he was Joseph Smith; but it was, also, a riddle too deep for him to guess.
"I see, I see. Well, since you are here we must make the best of it. I think there's a mistake, but I dare say the morning will set it all right. Meanwhile, it's snowing too fast to make any inquiries to-night. It is about dinner time, for me. Have you had your dinner?" asked the host.
"I had one on the train. That seems a great while ago," said the guest.
"I beg pardon, but I think there is a little smut upon your pretty nose. After a railway journey travellers usually like to wash up, and so on. I don't know much about little girls, yet"—he rather timidly suggested.
"I should be so glad. Just see my hands, Uncle Joe!" and she extended a pair of plump palms which sadly needed soap and water.
"I'm not your"—he began, meaning to set her right concerning their relationship; then thought better of it. What would a child do who had come to visit an unknown uncle and found herself in the home of a stranger?
