In that little word “Ah!” were expressed hope, relief, eagerness, and . The name was that of a well-known financier; one who had the power of good or ill to hundreds of other men. It could not forebode ill to the master of this home, since he was no to it; therefore it must denote some . A situation, the chance to earn a living for these precious ones whom his failure and his honesty had . For the first time, at the relief of this fancy, tears leaped to the bright, clear eyes of this new Joseph Smith, and unconsciously, it seemed, he clasped his wife’s thin waist with his strong arm.
“Cheer for us, Kitty, girl. Doubtless this other Joseph Smith needs an accountant and[151] has heard of my skill that way. I was an expert, sir, before I went into business for myself and failed, attempting a commercial line I did not understand,” explained the man, yet losing his own courage as the explanation went on. He had boasted thus of his reputation the better to comfort his wife, but he read no encouragement in the of Mr. Wakeman, which grew more forbidding each instant.
“Do not mistake, Mr. Smith. My errand is not of the sort which you appear to expect. My employer—I am myself an expert accountant, and the only one necessary to our business—my employer does not know of my present visit. Some days ago he a private bit of detective work to me, and I have now, I think, brought it to a finish. Why, however, may I ask, did you not reply to our advertisement?”
“I have seen none. This,” waving his hand around the bare apartment, “is hardly the place where the luxury of newspapers may be looked for. What was the advertisement, if you please?”
[152]Mr. Wakeman explained. Explained, added, itemized, and himself all over the argument, so to speak, while the faces of his audience grew more and more tense and disturbed. At length he finished:
“That is the way it stands, sir, you see. Your brother John this child to my employer, through a mistake in the address. Simply that. Now an old gentleman and—feeble, I may say”— Oh! if Uncle Joe could have heard him! “A feeble old man is not the one to be burdened with other folks’ relations. When I go back to town, now, I’ll be able to report that the missing uncle of this waif has been found at last, and that—Shall I say when you will call to her?”
Father and mother looked into each other’s eyes, one questioning the other, and reading in each but the same answer. Then said Joseph Smith, rightful uncle of our Josephine:
“Spare yourself the trouble, Mr. Wakeman. My brother’s child is our child, as dear and near. , that I can offer her no better shelter! but it is a safe one and will be more[153] comfortable. I shall soon get a situation; I must soon get one. It is impossible that skill shall go forever unrecognized. In any case the little Josephine must come home to us. Eh, Kitty, girl?”
She answered him , seeing through his unusual boastfulness, who was commonly so modest of his own , and smiling back upon him with the same undaunted courage he brought to their changed life. It was taking bread from her own children’s mouths to do what now she did, yet her step never as she walked across to the little cupboard and took from some hidden nook, known only to herself, their last quarter dollar. This she gave to her husband, saying cheerily:
“If you go at once, Joe, you may be home again in time for dinner. I’d like to be prompt with it for I’ve secured a dress to make for a woman in the neighborhood and can begin it to-night. Besides, I’m all to see this little Josephine. Think of it, dear, the child who was named for you.[154] How little we dreamed she was right here in our own Baltimore all this time. Go, dear, at once.”
With something like a the man caught the brave little creature in his arms, and was not ashamed to kiss her then and there before this staring stranger who had brought them this news. Ill or good, which would it prove? Then he put on his hat and went directly away.
Mr. Wakeman followed more slowly. He did not feel as much elated over his success as an amateur detective as he fancied he should feel. He was thinking of many things. Suppose this fellow, who was so down on his luck, this other unknown, insignificant Joseph Smith, should happen to take the fancy of the great Joseph Smith, of whom the world of business stood in such , and that magnate should happen to employ him on certain little matters of his own? Suppose those were directed toward his, Mr. Wakeman’s, own accounts, what would follow? Who could tell? Hmm! Yes, indeed. To prevent any such “happenings” that might prove unpleasant, it[155] would be as well to make a little around by the office, even though it was after office hours and business all done for that day. In any case the new-found Uncle Joe, the real article, was now en route for 1000 Bismarck Avenue, and it wouldn’t take two to tell the same story. Mr. Wakeman hoped the story would be told, and that child which had caused him so much trouble well out of the way before he again met his master. Then would be quite time enough to look for a reward, such as was due from a multi-millionaire to his trusted and effective man of affairs.
Pondering thus, Mr. Wakeman rode back to town in a livery , while the uncle of the little Californian rode in a democratic street car. The faster the car sped the more impatient the young man became. He wondered if his twin’s little daughter could be half as pretty and interesting as his own small people. He was glad he had never once written John or Helen anything about his business troubles. They supposed him to be doing well and living[156] in comfort, if not in luxury. Well, if this young Josephine were of the same good stock as her father a little poverty and privation in her youth wouldn’t hurt her; and where, search the wide world over, could any child find a sweeter, better foster-mother than his own Kitty?
When he arrived at Bismarck Avenue, things were already happening there which were out of the ordinary, to say the least. Among the day’s mail had come several letters to one Miss Desire Parkinson Smith, care of Mr. Joseph Smith. These letters had been handed to the master along with his own, and had caused him surprise amounting almost to .
“Desire Parkinson! Desire Parkinson! And Smith! The combination is , if nothing more, Peter,” he exclaimed.
“Yes, suh, Massa Joe. Yes, suh,” returned the also startled negro.
“Do you see these letters?” asked the master.
“Yes, sir,” said the butler.
[157]“Notice the superscription. Ever been any others with the same?”
“Yes, suh, heaps. Most all of them comes to Miss Kimono. Though some is just plain Miss Smith.”
“Hmm! Hmm! This is—this is—disturbing,” admitted Mr. Smith.
Uncle Joe dropped into deep thought and sat so long in profound quiet that Josephine, playing on the carpet near by, folded her hands and watched him anxiously. She had grown to love his stern old face, that was never stern to her, with all the of her affectionate heart; and presently she could not refrain from tiptoeing to him and laying her soft fingers tentatively upon his arm. He looked up at her, smiled, and murmured, more to himself than to her:
“Strange, strange. I’ve noticed something, a familiar trick of manner, something unforgotten from boyhood, Aunt Sophronia— Little Josephine, where is your—your nurse?”
“In the with Mrs. Merriman,[158] Uncle Joe. Shall I call her?” she answered.
“If you will, dear. I’d like to speak with her a moment,” said he.
The ladies were deep in the intricacies of a new lace pattern, and though Miss Kimono rose obediently to the summons Josephine delivered, Mrs. Merriman for once forgot the requirements of and followed without invitation. But Mr. Smith was now too excited to notice this, and so it happened that one of the old gentlewoman’s wishes was gratified without anybody’s . “May I be there to see,” she had said, and here she was.
“Miss Smith, what is your name?” demanded the master of the house.
“Desire Parkinson, Mr. Smith,” glancing toward the letters lying on his table, replied the nurse. They flung their brief remarks at each other, as though they were tossing balls, thus:
He: “That is an name, Miss—Smith.”
She: “As uncommon, I suppose, as our surname is common.”
[159]He: “Were you named for anybody in especial?”
She: “For a very dear lady in especial. For my mother’s twin sister.”
He: “She was a Parkinson?”
She: “She was a Parkinson.”
He: “She married a Smith?”
She: “She married a Smith, of Virginia. So did my mother another Smith, of another State. The world is full of them, Mr. Smith. We shall never be lonely because of a of our patronymic.” The lady was smiling in great amusement, and, it is possible, the amusement was tinctured by a spice of .
He: “What was your mother’s Christian name, if I may ask?”
She: “Surely you may ask, and I will answer to the best of my ability. Her name was Sophronia.”
He: “Then you and I are—are”—
She: “Bear up, Mr. Smith, we are first cousins.”
He: “You—you knew this before?”
She: “I’ve known it ever since our branch[160] of the family began fighting you to recover their portion of the old family estates in—Virginia!”
The excitement of the moment, so long anticipated by her and undreamed of by him, was her cheeks with a little color which made her, for the time being, nearly as handsome as he was and that brought out with distinctness a strong family . This resemblance was swiftly detected by little Josephine, who caugh............