“Oh, what a dog,” Joe exclaimed, stooping to catch frisking, curly Doodles into his arms. Homesick for Mrs. Evans, frightened and glad, he followed the old man into the kitchen with the curly dog in his arms.
“Affy, here’s the boy I’ve been looking for, and you’ve been praying for, I’ve no doubt.”
Aunt Affy turned and looked at the boy: short, stout, dirty, ragged, with a shock of uncombed black hair, a lock falling over his forehead, long black eyelashes concealed the eyes he kept shyly fixed upon the curly bundle in his arms.
Joe had never heard “dear” before, but supposed she must be speaking to him; he raised his eyes and smiled; they were shy, honest eyes; Aunt Affy smiled too.
“I am Joe,” he said, pulling Doodles’ ears.
“Do you remember your father and mother?”
“No; I don’t remember nobody but Chris and Sam.”
“I don’t know; I never thought. I guess it’s Joseph—or Jo—no, now I remember another name: _Josiah_. Is that a boy’s name?”
“A boy’s name, and a king’s name. I am glad your name is Josiah. I will tell you about him some time.”
The little girl stood near the lady, but she did not stare at him, and Joe gave her glances now and then from under his long lashes; he would like to know her name, and what she was here for. A man’s fur cap covered the black head; when he left the house, angry and discouraged, he had put upon his head the first thing he seized.
“Doodles hasn’t given you time to take your hat off, Joe, or did you forget?” suggested Aunt Affy’s unreproachful voice.
“Didn’t forget it,” said Joe, pulling it off and dropping it on the floor. “They used to eat with their hats on, but I always took mine off.”
“I should think you would,” exclaimed indignant Judith.
Joe put his cheek down upon Doodles’ head, smoothing the sleeping head with his brown cheek.
“Doodles,” answered Judith, hastening to speak to the rude, strange boy who had traveled from an unknown country.
“O, Doodles, Doodles, Doodles,” whispered Joe, in a fond voice, rubbing his cheek on the soft head.
“Well, Joe, do you love cows as well as dogs?” inquired Mr. Brush.
“Yes,” said Joe, thinking of the cow that was missing him to-night. He hoped she was asleep now. “But I’m glad I found Doodles.”
“Now, Joe, drop Doodles,” said Aunt Affy, “and follow me up these kitchen stairs. I have a room ready for an obedient, truthful, industrious boy.”