“There are plenty of oranges in this city, child. I presume Peter has some now in his pantry. You may ask him, if you like,” said Mr. Smith.
Peter didn’t wait for the asking, but disappeared for a few moments, then to return with a dish of them and place them on the table. The eyes of both children sparkled, for it was the finest of fruit, yet they waited until the butler had brought them plates and napkins before beginning their feast. This little action pleased the fastidious old gentleman, and made him realize that small people are less often ill-bred than he had hitherto imagined them to be. He had based his opinion upon the behavior of some other little folks whom it had been his misfortune to meet upon cars or steamboats, who seemed to be always munching, and utterly careless where their crumbs or nutshells fell. This pair was different.
Indeed, had the host known it, Michael had been reared as daintily as Josephine had been. “Company manners” were every-day manners with him, and it was one of Mr. Smith’s beliefs that “breeding shows more plainly at table than anywhere else.” He watched the boy with keenness, and it was due to his present conduct, of which the lad himself was unconscious, that final consent was given to Josephine’s outing.
Selecting an orange the boy asked:
“Shall I fix it for you?”
“If you please,” answered the little girl.
Michael cut the fruit in halves, placed it on a plate, laid a spoon beside it, and offered it to Josephine, who received it with a quiet “Thank you,” and began at once to take the juice in her spoon. When each had finished an orange they were pressed to have a second, and the boy frankly accepted, though the girl found more interest in this young companion than in eating.
“It makes a fellow terribly hungry to be out in the snow all morning, Mr. Smith. Seems as if I was always hungry, anyway. Grandma says I am, but I reckon she doesn’t mind. Oh! I forgot. Why, she sent you a note. I never do remember things, somehow.”
“Neither do I,” said Josephine, with ready sympathy.
“You ought to, then. Girls ought to be a great deal better than boys,” answered Michael.