“Who’s out yonder?”
“A—er—ahem!—the little boy from next door, suh.”
“That rough fellow? What’s he want?”
“He, I reckon, he’s just come to call on our Miss Josephine, suh.”
Mr. Smith leaned back in his chair, overcome by astonishment, and Mr. Wakeman quietly slipped away.
“Send her back in here,” ordered the master of the house.
The little girl came, attended by a red-headed lad, somewhat taller than herself, with whom she had already established a delightful intimacy; for she held fast to his hand and beamed upon him with the tenderest of smiles as she cried:
“Oh, Uncle Joe! Here’s Michael!”
“Huh! Well, Michael, what’s wanted?”
“Josephine, Mr. Smith,” returned the lad.