For, with Tante gone, who was to take care of her? And heavy on the
child's heart lay the fear that it might be Aunt Josephine.

Aunt Josephine was her very own aunt, her father's sister, and lived in
a very pretentious home at the other end of the city, overlooking the
Hudson River. At a very early age Keineth had guessed that Aunt
Josephine did not approve of the way her Daddy lived; of the tenants on
the third floor; of the sign at the door; of Tante and the
happy-go-lucky lessons; and most of all, her intimacy with the Italian
children. Twice a year Keineth and her Daddy spent a Sunday with Aunt
Josephine, and Keineth could always tell by the way Daddy clasped her
hand and ran down the steps that he was very glad when the day was over
and they could go home. However, Aunt Josephine was pretty and wore
lovely clothes like the women in the big hotels uptown and was really
fond of Daddy, so that Keineth loved her--but she did not want to live
with her!

"Why do you go away from us?" Keineth asked Madame Henri for the
hundredth time.

The little woman dropped a book to kiss the child--also for the
hundredth time.

"I have an old mother, and a sister, and six nephews and nieces over
there--they need me now, more than you do, cherie!"

Keineth knew that she was very unhappy and refrained from asking her
more questions. Daddy had read to her of the suffering in Europe as a
result of the great war, but it seemed hard to picture prim Tante in
the midst of it--perhaps working in the fields and factories, as Daddy