The following morning, Josey couldn't remember coming home at all. He opened his large hazel eyes very wide, as Aunt Fanny told him what had happened.
"I'm glad we found her; isn't you?" he asked, again and again.
Baby Emma received a great many extra kisses that day, and the next, and whenever mamma thought about the mistake. But one week after another passed on, Mr. Codman preaching once in a while, until Spring came again.
When Emma was a year and a half old, she was full of mischief; and Josey, who was now five, sometimes got out of patience. He was just learning to read, and liked nothing better than to sit on Aunt Fanny's knee and hear her tell stories. Sometimes Emma, finding no one watching, would get to mamma's basket and overturn all the spools, or tangle the thread, and then Aunt Fanny had to start up and attend to her, and stop the stories very short.
Or baby would climb on a chair to her brother's shelf and pull his nice books to the floor. Once, indeed, he came in from a walk, and found mamma busy with a caller, and Emma, who had been left there while Nurse went an errand, doing a great deal of mischief. She had a new book in her hand, and just as he found her she was tearing out three or four leaves, laughing and shouting with delight. Josey ran to take his book away; but it was too late. His Christmas present was spoiled. Poor boy! he cried as if his heart would break, and was very angry with his sister, more so than his mamma had ever seen him. He struck her little fat hand, exclaiming,—
"You are naughty! naughty! and I don't love you any more."
The visitor rose to go, and Mrs. Codman did not detain her. She was so grieved at her little boy's actions, she could scarcely command her voice to say "good-bye." She rung the bell for Ann, and then, taking Josey by the hand, led him away to his own chamber.
He glanced up into his mamma's face and saw it was very white, and he began to be sorry for his bad temper.
"Oh, Josey!" she commenced at last, seating him on her knee, "do you know how you've grieved mamma?" and then the tears began to roll down her cheeks.
"Emma tore my best book," he said, softly.