Page:The mislaid uncle (IA mislaiduncle00raym).pdf/17

 from her desk, called the child to her. Then she took her on her lap and said, very earnestly:

"Josephine, you are eight years old."

"Yes, mamma. This very last birthday that ever was."

"That is old enough to be brave and helpful."

"Oh, quite, mamma. I didn't cry when Doctor Mack vaccinated me, and I sewed a button on my apron all myself."

"For a time I am obliged to go away from you, my—my precious!"

Josephine put up her hand and stroked her mother's cheek, begging:

"Don't cry, mamma, and please, please don't go away."

The lady's answer was a question:

"Do you love papa, darling?"

"Why, mamma! How funny to ask! Course I do, dearly, dearly."

"Poor papa is ill. Very ill, I fear. He is alone in a far, strange country. He needs me to take care of him. He has sent for me, and I am going to him. But I cannot take you.