Now, Mr. Smith was a faithful and devout church member, but was in the habit of omitting this little ceremony at his solitary meals. He was disconcerted for the moment, but presently bowed his head and repeated the formula to which he had been accustomed in his youth. It proved to be the same that the little girl was used to hearing from her own parents’ lips, and she believed it to be the ordinary habit of every household. She did not dream that she had instituted a new order of things, and unfolded her napkin with a smile, saying:
“Now, I’m dreadful hungry, Uncle Joe. Are you?”
“I believe I am, little one.”
Peter served with much dignity and flourish; but Josephine had dined at hotel tables often enough to accept his attentions as a matter of course. Her quiet behavior, her daintiness, and her chatter, amused and delighted her host. He found himself in a much better humor than when he returned through the storm from an unsatisfactory board meeting, and was grateful for the mischance which had brought him such pleasant company.
As for old Peter, his dark face glowed with enthusiasm. He was deeply religious, and now believed that this unknown child had been sent by heaven itself to gladden their big, empty house. He didn’t understand how his master could be “uncle” to anybody, yet, since that master accepted the fact so genially, he was only too glad to do likewise.
It was a fine and stately dinner, and as course after course was served, Josephine’s wonder grew, till she had to inquire:
“Is it like this always, to your home, Uncle Joe?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Such a birthday table, and no folks, ’xcept you and me.”
“It is the same, usually, unless Peter fails to find a good market. Have you finished? No more cream or cake?” he explained and questioned.