seen John Harrington."

Josephine looked at her aunt and laughed a little; it seemed to her a very
self-evident fact, since John had just gone.

"Exactly," said she. "Won't you call me Joe, aunt Zoruiah? They all do at
home--even Ronald."

"Joe? Boy's name. Well, if you insist upon it. As I was saying, you have
seen John Harrington, now."

"Exactly," repeated Joe.

"But I mean, how does he strike you?"

"Clever I should think," answered the young lady. "Clever, you know--that
sort of thing. Not bad looking, either."

"I told you so," said Miss Schenectady.

"Yes--but I expected ever so much more from what you said," returned Joe,
kneeling on the rug before the fire and poking the coals with the tongs.
Miss Schenectady looked somewhat offended at the slight cast upon her late
guest.

"You are very _difficile_, Josephi--I mean Joe, I forgot."

"Ye--es, very diffyseal--that sort of thing," repeated Josephine,
mimicking her aunt's pronunciation of the foreign word, "I know I am, I
can't possibly help it, you know." A dashing thrust with the tongs finally