"Strange! Only a few hours of a child's presence in this silent place, yet it seems transfigured. 'An angel's visit,' maybe. To show me that, after all, I am something softer and more human than the crusty old bachelor I thought myself. What would her mother say, that absent, perfect 'mamma,' if she knew into what strange hands her darling had fallen? Of course, my first duty to-morrow is to hunt up this mislaid uncle of little Josephine's and restore her to him. But—Well, it's my duty, and of course I shall do it."
The great bed in the guest room was big enough, Josephine thought, to have held mamma herself, and even big Bridget without crowding. It was far softer than her own little white cot in the San Diegan cottage, and plunged in its great depths the small traveller instantly fell asleep. She did not hear Peter come in and lower the light, and knew nothing more, indeed, till morning. Then she roused with a confused feeling, not quite realizing where she was or what had happened to her. For a few moments she lay still, expecting
