CHAPTER IV.
A MULTITUDE OF JOSEPHS.
“So I perceive!” responded the master of the house, when he could rally from this onslaught of affection. “I’m sure I’m very pleased to welcome you. I—when—how did you arrive?”
“I’m a ’xpress ‘parcel,’” she answered, laughing, for she had learned before this that she had made her long journey in rather an unusual fashion. “Mamma had to go away on the peacock-blue ocean; and Doctor Mack couldn’t bother with me, ’cause he’s going to the folks that eat almonds together and give presents; and there wasn’t anybody else ’xcept big Bridget, and she’d spent all her money, and mamma said you wouldn’t want a ‘wild Irish girl’ to plague you. Would you?”
“I’m not fond of being plagued by anybody,” said the gentleman, rather dryly. He was puzzled as much by her odd talk as her unexpected appearance, and wondered if children so young were ever lunatics. The better to consider the matter he sat down in the nearest chair, and instantly Josephine was upon his knee. The sensation this gave him was most peculiar. He didn’t remember that he had ever taken any child on his lap, yet permitted this one to remain there, because he didn’t know what better to do. He had heard that one should treat a lunatic as if all vagaries were real. Opposition only made an insane person worse. What worse could this little crazy creature, with the lovely face and dreadful manners, do to a finical old bachelor in evening clothes than crush the creases out of his trouser knees?
The lap was not as comfortable as Doctor Mack’s, and far, far from as cosey as mamma’s. Uncle Joe’s long legs had a downward slant to them that made Josephine’s perch upon them rather uncertain. After sliding toward the floor once or twice, and hitching up again, she slipped to her feet and leaned affectionately against his shoulder, saying:
“That’s better. I guess you’re not used to holding little girls, are you, Uncle Joe?”
“No, Josephine. What is your other name?” said he.
“Smith. Just like yours. You’re my papa’s dear twin, you know.”
“Oh, am I?” he asked.
“Course. Didn’t you know that? How funny. That’s because you haven’t mamma to remind you, I s’pose. Mamma remembers everything. Mamma never is naughty. Mamma knows everything. Mamma is dear, dear, dear. And, oh, I want her, I want her!”