happy, Uncle Joe? Can't I help you, you dear, dear man?"
The "dear" man's arms went round the little figure, and he drew it close to his lonely heart with a jealous wish that he might always keep it there. All at once he felt that he hated that other unknown, rightful uncle to whom this charming "parcel" belonged, and almost he wished that no such person might ever be found. Then he unclasped her clinging arms and—actually kissed her!
"You are helping me very greatly, Josephine. You are a dear child. Peter will see that your room is all right for the night. Tell him anything you need and he'll get it for you. Good-night, little girl."
"Good-night, Uncle Joe. Dear Uncle Joe. I think—I think you are just too sweet for words! I hope you'll rest well. Good-night."
She vanished through the curtains, looking back and kissing her finger-tips to him, and smiling trustingly upon him to the last. But the old man sat long looking after her before he turned again to his books, reflecting:
