for the next week mr. smith was untiring in his efforts to find the missing joseph smith, his namesake. telegrams sped back and forth between baltimore and san diego, with the result that the only information gained was: on the very day, or the next following that, on which mrs. john smith sailed from san diego for santiago de chile, doctor alexander macdonald, otherwise known as “doctor mack,” had departed for the philippines. no person at their recent home knew anything further concerning these two persons, and owing to their long journeys all communication with them was for the present impossible.

the seventy-five joseph smiths residing in or around baltimore had all been unearthed, so to speak, without finding one who in any[139] particular beyond the name resembled the desired one. not one was anybody’s twin, not one happened to have had any relative in either san diego or santiago, and not one welcomed the thought of receiving a strange child into his household.

one joseph smith had, indeed, been found to have lately resided at 1000 bismarck street and this confusion of street and avenue explained to uncle joe’s mind the whole curious, yet simple blunder. this bismarck-street joseph smith was, doubtless, the right one; but, also, he was the only one of the seventy-five who could not now be located! he had disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed him, and josephine’s present guardian rested his efforts; merely causing an advertisement to be inserted in each of the daily papers to the effect that the person answering it might hear of something to his advantage by calling at the newspaper office and leaving his address for the advertiser, “s.”

nobody called. matters dropped into a comfortable routine. uncle joe was disturbed[140] at finding the name of the trained nurse was also smith, and to prevent unpleasant complications, requested that he might call her as the little girl did, “mrs. red kimono,” or, more briefly, “miss kimono,” she having set him right as to her maidenly condition.

she readily and smilingly agreed to this, and, reporting the matter to mrs. merriman, laughed so heartily over it, that that lady remonstrated, saying:

“dear miss desire, it’s outrageous. under the circumstances i would never permit it. the idea! he excludes you from table with himself and the little girl, does he not? for so michael tells me.”

“yes. not, i fancy, from arrogance, but merely from force of habit. he dislikes women, utterly and sincerely. or he thinks he does. but josephine has won his whole heart for childhood, and he likes her to be with him as constantly as possible. from what the servants tell me, she has wrought a complete transformation in the household. and she is so lovely, so winning, that eventually[141] she’ll bring everything right. i don’t mind the table business; the main thing is that i am in his house, tolerated there, and determined, if the time is not too short, to prove to him that blood is thicker than water, and that, just though he thinks himself, he has been wholly unjust in his treatment of others. oh, i don’t object to the situation. i get lots of quiet fun out of it, and haven’t felt so happy in a long time. i’ve even lost all bitterness against him, poor, solitary, prejudice-bound old man,” returned the nurse.

“well, may i be there to see when the revelation is at last made! though i prophesy that his behavior in the matter will be as straightforward as it was about the line-fence. think! we squabbled over it like a couple of silly children, for years and years. i can’t understand now how i could ever have been so absurd. must you go? well, then, since your employer wishes you to take little josephine down town to get that rudanthy a head, suppose you both go with me in my carriage? i will call for you at three o’clock.”

[142]miss kimono thanked her friend and departed; and that same afternoon the unhappy doll’s ruined countenance was replaced by one so beautiful that it almost consoled josephine for the loss of the more familiar face.

that very day, too, away out in a suburban village, where rents were cheap and needs few, three little lads sat on a bare floor, surrounding a baby, who rejoiced in the high-sounding name of penelope, but rejoiced in very little else. even now she was crying for her dinner, and each of the “triplets,” as they were called by the neighbors, was doing his utmost to console her. in reality they were not triplets, though the eldest were twins, and their names were those so objectionable in uncle joe’s ears, tom, dick, and harry.

“here, penel! you may play with my pin-wheel!” cried the latter.

“no, harry, she must not. she’ll swallow it. the pin’ll scratch her insides. she swallows everything, penelope does. and you mustn’t say just ‘penel.’ mother doesn’t like that. she says it’s a beautiful name and mustn’t be spoiled.”

[143]“oh, tom, you’re always a c’recting a fellow. well, if she can’t have my pin-wheel, what shall i give her to make her shut up?”

“maybe i can find something in mother’s cupboard, maybe,” answered harry.

the tone was doubtful, but the suggestion cheering, and with one accord the triplets left the baby to its fate and betook themselves to the rear room where they ransacked a small pantry, only to find their search rewarded by nothing more palatable than a stale loaf of bread and a few raw potatoes.

“she can’t eat taters, and she can’t eat this bread, ’ithout it’s softened. and there isn’t any milk,” said dick, despondingly. “i don’t see why we don’t have things like we used to have. i don’t know what made my folks move ’way out here to nowhere, anyway. i was just going to get a new ’rithmetic to my school, and now, i—i hate this.”

“no, you don’t hate it, dicky. not always. you’re hungry, that’s all,” said the more thoughtful tom.

“well, so are you!” retorted dick, resenting[144] the statement as if it were an implication of guilt.

“if you can’t get milk, water must do,” answered tom, taking the loaf from his brother’s hand and carefully breaking off a portion of it, to moisten it under the spigot.

the others watched him with keen interest, and harry inquired:

“do you s’pose i could have just a little bit, tom?”

“no, i don’t s’pose anything like it. you aren’t a baby, are you? only babies eat when ’tisn’t dinner time, now.”

“once i used to eat when ’twasn’t dinner. once i did,” answered the little boy, with something like a quiver of the lip.

“does our father or our mother eat ’tween meals, harry smith?” demanded tom, indignantly.

“no. come on. if we can’t have bread let’s play hop-toad.”

“all right. after i’ve set penelope up against the wall so’s we shan’t knock her over,” answered the brother.

[145]the little maid was soon propped securely across an angle of the whitewashed wall, with a chair before her to keep her from creeping forward into danger, and the small triplets were soon leaping over one another’s backs, around and around the room. fortunately, there was little furniture to obstruct their movements and therefore little danger of hurting themselves; and though the exercise tended to increase their always-present hunger, that was nothing new.

“a fellow can have a good time even if he doesn’t have a good dinner,” was their father’s assertion; and to them father was an oracle.

while the fun was at its height there came a knock on the little street door. the house was but the tiniest of cottages, and its floor raised but slightly above the street. its door hung loosely from its upper hinge and dragged so heavily in closing that it was commonly left ajar. no landlord cared to fix it up for such poor tenants as now occupied the property, and they had not done it for him. so that when his knock was unanswered, because unheard,[146] the visitor calmly entered, followed the noise, and presented himself before the gaze of the astonished, suddenly quieted lads.

“hello, youngsters, hard at it?” demanded the stranger, playfully.

“hop-toad, leap-frog; having frolics,” answered harry, boldly, while his brothers, the twins, clung together and looked anxiously at the man.

“nice game. used to play it myself, when i was a little shaver. don’t know but i might be persuaded to try it again, if i was invited,” said the unknown visitor.

none of the trio responded to this suggestion, nor was the game resumed. the three children stood utterly silent, regarding the gentleman with the intensely critical gaze of childhood which pretence finds so disconcerting. the stranger felt as if six gimlets were boring their way through his outward amiability to the vexation beneath; a vexation that he had allowed himself to come so far out of his way to find a man who could not possibly reside in such a hovel. none the less, since[147] here he was he would ask a question or two for the satisfaction of it, and put the first one, thus:

“say, youngsters, what’s your name?”

“tom, dick, and harry. that’s me,” answered the latter, placing his arms akimbo, the better to stare at the questioner, it seemed.

“the mischief! saucy, aren’t you!” rejoined the newcomer.

“and the baby. that’s penelope,” added tom, with his usual precise gravity.

“tom, dick, and harry, and the baby; a hopeful lot of you. all right. so much for first names, though i don’t believe they’re genuine. give us the last name and be quick about it,” ordered this odd man.

“our name is smith. that’s our father’s name and our mother’s. why? do they owe you something? ’cause if they do, i wish, i wish you’d please go away, quick as a wink, and not let them know you’ve been here. my father can’t help it. he—something got wrong with the business, and i’ve heard them talk lots of times. they”—explained tom.

[148]just there it occurred to the little fellow that he was discussing family affairs too freely with a stranger, and instinct made him pause.

“well, ‘they’ what? is his name joseph? joseph smith? has he a brother who is a twin?” asked the stranger.

tom considered, there seemed no harm in answering these questions.

“yes, his name is joseph. he has a brother who is a twin, same as me and dick.”

then there ensued the following dialogue, begun by the visitor with the next question:

“where does this uncle of yours live?”

“i don’t know.”

“don’t know? haven’t you ever seen him?”

“no. never.”

“where’s your father?”

“out looking for work. maybe he’ll get it to-day, maybe.”

the wistfulness of the childish voice told its own story, and even mr. wakeman’s heart was touched by it. he was compelled to say:

“likely he will, chappie. likely enough[149] he will. and your mother? i suppose you have a mother?”

“course. the nicest mother there is.”

“does she happen to be at home?”

tom’s gaze flew past the questioner toward a little woman who had entered unperceived, and who was closely followed by a handsome man with a mien as bright and undaunted as if he were not evidently half-starved and poor in the extreme. with the gentlest of movements he placed himself between the lady and the stranger, as if to ward off from her any fresh misfortune.

“your errand, mr.”—

“wakeman. my name is wakeman. since you didn’t answer our advertisement i looked you up, myself. i represent joseph smith, of the stock exchange.”

“ah!” the ejaculation spoke volumes.