In all his service he had never heard anybody dare to speak so plainly to his master, whose temper was none of the mildest. He dreaded what would follow, and was more astonished than ever when it proved to be a quiet:
"Humph! Children and fools speak truth, 'tis said. You're a sharp-eyed, unflattering little lady, Miss Josephine; but I'll try to control my ugly visage for your benefit."
The tone in which this was said, rather than the words themselves, was a reproof to the child, who immediately left her place, ran to her uncle's side, and laid her hand pleadingly upon his arm.
"Please forgive me, poor Uncle Joe. I guess that was saucy. I—I didn't think. That's a way I have. I say things first, and think them afterward. I guess it isn't a nice way. I'll try to get over that. My! won't that be fun? You trying not to make up faces, and I trying not to say wrong things. I'll tell you. Have you got a little box anywhere?"
"Yes, I presume so. Go eat your breakfast, child. Why?"
