nce, but I do wish you
could make up your mind to call her after me, Dora."

Dora Lee was soft-hearted. She named her girl-baby Daniel, and called
her Danny, which was not, after all, so bad, and her old uncle loved the
child as if she had been his own. Little Daniel--he always called her
Daniel, or, rather, "Dan'l"--was the only reason for his descending into
the village on summer days when the weather was hot. Daniel, when he
visited the village in summer-time, wore always a green leaf inside his
hat and carried an umbrella and a palm-leaf fan. This caused the village
boys to shout, "Hullo, grandma!" after him. Daniel, being a little hard
of hearing, was oblivious, but he would have been in any case. His
whole mind was concentrated in getting along that dusty glare of street,
stopping at the store for a paper bag of candy, and finally ending in
Dora's little dark parlor, holding his beloved namesake on his knee,
watching her blissfully suck a barley stick while he waved his palmleaf
fan. Dora would be fitting gowns in the next room. He would hear the
hum of feminine chatter over strictly feminine topics. He felt very much
aloof, even while holding the little girl on his knee. Daniel had never
married--had never even h ad a sweetheart. The marriageable women he
had seen had not been of the type to attract a dreamer like Daniel Wise.
Many of those women thought him "a little off."

Dora Lee, his niece, privately wondered if her uncle had his full
allotment of understanding. He seemed much more at home with her little
daughter than with herself, and Dora considered herself a very good
business woman, with possibly an unusual endowment of common sense. She
was such a good business woman that when she died suddenly she left her
child with quite a sum in the bank, besides the house. Daniel did not
hesitate for a moment. He engaged Miss Sarah Dean for a housekeeper, and
took the little girl (hardly more than a baby) to his own home. Dora
had left a will, in which she appointed Daniel guardian in spite of her
doubt concerning his measure of understanding. There was much comment in
the village when Daniel took his little namesake to live in his lonely
house on the terrace. "A man and an old maid to bring up that poor
child!" they said. But Daniel called Dr. Trumbull to his support. "It
is much better for that delicate child to be out of this village, which
drains the south hill," Dr. Trumbull declared. "That child needs pure