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 CHAPTER V.

A WILD MARCH MORNING.

Josephine was half-asleep. A woman would have thought about her fatigue and sent her early to bed. "Uncle Joe" thought of nothing now save the array of common and uncommon names in the city directory. He counted and recounted the "Smiths," "Smyths," and "Smythes," and jotted down his figures in a notebook. He copied, also, any address of any Smith whose residence was in a locality which he considered suitable for relatives of his small guest. He became so absorbed in this study that an hour had passed before he remembered her, and the extraordinary quiet of her lively tongue.

Josephine had dozed and waked, dozed and waked, and dreamed many dreams during that hour of silence. Her tired little brain was all