The old man found his wits returning. This was the queerest "parcel" for which he had ever signed a receipt in an express-book, and he knew there was some mistake. Yet he couldn't withstand the pleading brown eyes under the scarlet hat, even if he hadn't been "raised" to a habit of hospitality.
"Suah, little lady. Come right in. 'Tis dreadful cold out to-day. I 'most froze goin' to market, an' I'se right down ashamed of myself leavin' comp'ny waitin' this way. Step right in the drawin'-room, little missy, and tell me who 'tis you'd like to see."
Picking up the luggage that had been deposited on the topmost of the gleaming marble steps, which, even in winter, unlike his neighbors, the master of the house disdained to hide beneath a wooden casing, the negro led the way into the luxurious parlor. To Josephine, fresh from the chill of the cloudy, windy day without, the whole place seemed aglow. A rosy light came through the red-curtained windows, shone from the open grate, repeated itself in the deep crimson carpet that was so delightfully soft and warm.
