"Yes, aunt Dorcas, and I was in hopes by that time I could go back to New York."
"What will you do to-morrow, after you have seen her?"
"Jest hang 'round, I s'pose. I've got to go, 'cause I promised, an' then, ag'in, it ain't right to leave the princess alone so long. I don't know but what she's frettin'."
"How old is she, Joseph?"
"Not more'n six or seven years; but she can't talk."
"Then she must be much younger than you think."
"Well, perhaps she ain't more'n a year old; I don't know much about kids, anyhow."
"It seems as if my duty was plain in this case," aunt Dorcas said, solemnly. "The little property I've got is enough to take care of me, with economy; but surely a child wouldn't be very much expense, an' if you'd do what you could towards helpin', I believe I'd say that she might be brought here. It's a great responsibility; but if a woman like me turns a deaf ear to such a story as you have told, it is almost a crime. There's that poor child without father, or mother, or home, and I have no right to fold my hands in idleness."
Joe was about to explain that he hoped soon to find the princess's parents, for aunt Dorcas's words sounded much as if she believed the child to be an orphan; but, before he could speak, the little woman said, emphatically:
"You shall bring her here, Joseph, and I rely upon you to help me take care of her."