"But I have lived in the country, and I don't forget, though it was so long ago," said Josie.
"Many a poor little one may remember it too, without a hope of even a glimpse of it again," said Leveson.
And Josie knew from the sound of his saddened voice what was the subject of his thoughts just then.
[CHAPTER XII.]
WHAT HOR WANTED.
THAT same afternoon, the last ray of the setting sun, which shone brightly on Josie Therlock during her happy homeward journey, crept lazily, half-veiled by smoke, through the window of Job Kippis' garret.
It fell upon Job himself first, lending a sparkle to his silver hair, and a light to his steady eyes. It cast his shadow behind on the bare wall, and crept over the aquiline face of the Duke's portrait over the fireplace. And just as it was taking itself away from Job Kippis' hands, busied with some tough army-cloth, the door opened, and Ailie bounded in.
"Gran'father, I've brought Hor an' Lettie to see you," she cried.