"You mustn't trouble about his having been ordered to the front, if that's what you're crying about," Josephine continued; "I don't mean to—more than I can help. Of course—" her voice trembling slightly— "I can't help being anxious; but I'm a soldier's daughter, and I don't want to be a coward as though I couldn't trust God to take care of father—wherever he is—whatever happens. Oh," springing to her feet, "is this Uncle John?"
Mr. Basset had entered the room in quite a state of excitement, for he had been told by the gardener of Josephine's arrival.
"Yes, it's Uncle John, who's heartily glad to see you, my dear," he said. "Why, what a tall girl you are! And very like your father! His eyes, I see! Ann, have you noticed?"
Miss Basset assented. Having kissed Josephine, Mr. Basset seated himself at the table by her side, and, for a time, gave her all his attention, asking her many questions about her father, which she answered cheerfully.
"Does he think the war will last long?" he inquired by and by.
"He is afraid it will," Josephine replied gravely; "but he says no one can really tell."
"True!" agreed Mr. Basset. "Ann, did you know some Belgian refugees were expected at Midbury to-day?" he asked, turning to his sister.
"I didn't know when they were expected," she answered, "but I knew they were coming. Some one called here this afternoon for a subscription to a fund for providing for them. I promised a guinea a month, and said no doubt you would give something, too."
"Very willingly. I was passing the railway station when the Belgians arrived, and waited to have a look at them. There were twenty—mostly women and children; they had lost everything except the clothes they were wearing, so I was told."
"Oh, how sad!" cried May pitifully.