mamma's or big Bridget's face to appear beneath the silken curtains which draped the bed's head; then she remembered everything, and that in a house without women she was bound to do all things for herself.
"But it's dreadful dark everywhere. I guess I don't like such thick curtains as Uncle Joe has. Mamma's are thin white ones and it's always sunshiny at home—'xcept when it isn't. That's only when the rains come, and that's most always the nicest of all. Then we have a dear little fire in the grate, and mamma reads to me, and big Bridget bakes and cooks the best things. We write letters to papa, and mamma sings and plays, and—it's just lovely! Never mind, Josephine. You'll be back there soon's papa gets well again, and Uncle Joe was sort of cryey round his eyes last night. Mamma said I was to be like his own little daughter to him and take care of him and never make him any trouble. So I will."
There was no prouder child in that city that morning than the little stranger within its
