HIS BRAVE LITTLE DAUGHTER
CAPTAIN BASSET was home on three days' leave only, so he had but one clear day to spend at the Glen, the Sunday which Josephine afterward looked back upon as one of the happiest of her life.
She was not so selfish as to wish to keep her father all to herself. It was sufficient joy for her to be in his presence, to listen to his voice, and to see that, whilst he talked to his aunt and uncle and made friends with May and Donald on his first evening at the Glen, his eyes constantly turned to her, telling her by their expression that this brief reunion was as great a joy to him as to her.
Captain Basset was a slight, middle-size man, with a thin bronzed face, dark hair, and eyes very like his little daughter's. His smile, too, was like hers, as was the frank, direct look he always gave every one he was talking to. Indeed the resemblance between the two was most strong, and noticeably so when they were together, a fact many remarked as they looked at father and daughter at the little mission church on Sunday morning.
Oh, how time flew on that memorable Sunday! Josephine resolutely put away all thought of the parting to come, and enjoyed every minute of her father's society, especially the precious hour she had with him alone in the afternoon when they strolled about the garden in the pleasant spring sunshine.
"And are you happy here?" Captain Basset questioned by and by.
"As happy as I could be anywhere without you, father," she answered; "I ought to be, for every one is so kind to me! May and I are like sisters, and Donald—well, he's very nice sometimes, too."
"Only sometimes?"
Josephine nodded.
"Sometimes no one can please him," she explained gravely; "they say he wasn't like that before his accident—it is his accident that has spoilt his temper Aunt Ann says. He wanted to be a soldier, you know; but that will be impossible now on account of his lame knee. It will never be quite right the doctors say. Father, I do wish you'd talk to him."