 CHAPTER XXII James tells a strange story. Little John followed the coachman up the stairs to the little room above the tool-house where the old man had managed to crawl after old Sam had given him a vicious kick in the chest. "'Is he dead?' he asked. "'No, sir. But mortally hurt, I'm thinking. It must have happened while we were at the funeral. He opened the door outside which Susan and Oscar watched with brightened faces and led John Merrick into the room. James lay upon his bed with closed eyes. His shirt above the breast was reeking with blood. "'The doctor should be sent for,' said Uncle John. "'He'll be here soon for one of the stable boys' road to fetch him, but I thought you ought to know it once, sir.' "'Quite right, Donald.' As they stood there the wounded man moved and opened his eyes, looking from one to the other of them wonderingly. Finally he smiled. "'Ah, it's Donald,' he said. "'Yes, old friend,' answered the coachman. "'And this is Mr. John.' "'Mr. John, Mr. John, I don't quite remember you, sir, with a slight shake of the grey head. And Donald, lad, you've grown wonderful old somehow.' "'It's the year's, James,' was the reply. The year's makes us all old sooner or later.' The Gardner seemed puzzled and examined his companions more carefully. He did not seem to be suffering any pain. Finally he sighed. "'The dreams confused me,' he said, as if to explain something. "'I can't always separate them, the dreams from the real.' "'Have I been sick, Donald?' "'Yes, lad, you're sick now.' The Gardner closed his eyes and lay silent. "'Do you think he's sane,' whispered Uncle John. "'I do, sir,' he's sane for the first time in years. James looked at them again, and slowly raised his hand to wipe the damp from his forehead. "'About Master Tom,' he said falteringly. "'Master Tom's dead, ain't he?' "'Yes, James.' "'That was real, then, and no dream. "'I mind it all now, the shriek of the whistle, the crash, and the screams of the dying. "'Have I told you about it, Donald?' "'No, lad.' "'It all happened before we knew it. "'I was on one side, the car, and Master Tom on the other. "'My side was on top when I came to myself, and Master Tom was buried in the rubbish. "'God knows how I got him out, but I did. "'Donald, the poor Master's side, was crushed in, and both legs splintered. "'I knew it once he was dying when I carried him to the grass and laid him down. "'And he knew it, too. "'Yes, the Master knew he was done. And him so young and happy, and just about to be married, too, too.' The name escapes me, lad. His voice sang to a low mumble, and he closed his eyes wearily. The watchers at his side stood still and waited. It might be that death had overtaken the poor fellow. But no, he moved again, and opened his eyes, continuing his speech in a stronger tone. It was hard work to get the paper for Master Tom, he said, but he swore he must have it before he died. I ran all the way to the station-house and back, a mile or more, and brought the paper and a pen and ink besides. It was but a telegraph-blank, all I could find. Not but a telegraph-blank, lad." Then his voice trailed away into a mumbling whisper. But now Uncle John and Donald looked into one another's eyes with sudden interest. "'He mustn't die yet,' said the little man, and the coachman leaned over the wounded form and said distinctly, "'Yes, lad, I'm listening.' "'To be sure,' said James, brightening a bit. So I held the paper for him, and the breakman supported Master Tom's poor body, and he wrote out the will as clear as may be. "'The will?' "'Sure enough, Master Tom's last will. Isn't my name on it, too, where I signed it, and the conductors beside it, for the poor breakman didn't dare let him go. Of course, who should sign the will with Master Tom but me, his old servant and friend? Am I right, Donald?' "'Yes, lad.' "'Now,' says Master Tom, take it to Lawyer Watson, James, and bid him care for it, and give my love to Jane. That's the name, Donald, the one I thought I'd forgot. "'And now lay me back and let me die,' his very words, Donald. And we laid him back, and he died. Then he died. Poor Master Tom, poor, poor young Master, and him to be married in a... The paper, James, cried Uncle John, recalling the dying man to the present. What became of it?' "'Sir, I do not know you,' answered James suspiciously. "'The paper's for Lawyer Watson. It's he alone shall have it.' "'Here I am, James,' cried the Lawyer, thrusting the others aside and advancing to the bed. "'Give me the paper. Where is it? I am Lawyer Watson.' The gardener laughed, a horrible, croaking laugh that ended with a gasp of pain. "'You, Lawyer Watson,' he cried a moment later in taunting tones. "'Why, you old fool, Si Watson's as young as Master Tom, as young as I am. "'You, you, Lawyer Watson, ha, ha, ha! Where is the paper?' demanded the Lawyer fiercely. James stared at him an instant, and then suddenly collapsed and fell back inert upon the bed. "'Have you heard all?' asked John Merrick, laying his hand on the Lawyer's shoulder. "'Yes, I followed you here as soon as I could. Tom Bradley made another will as he lay dying. I must have it, Mr. Merrick.' "'Then you must find it yourself,' said Donald gravely, for James is dead.' The doctor, arriving a few minutes later, verified the statement. It was evident that the old gardener, for years insane, had been so influenced by Miss Merrick's death that he had wandered into the stables where he received his death-blow. When he regained consciousness, the mania had vanished, and in a shadowy way he could remember and repeat that last scene of the tragedy that had deprived him of his reason. The story was logical enough, and both Mr. Watson and John Merrick believed it. Tom Bradley was a level-headed fellow until he fell in love with your sister, said the Lawyer, to his companion. But after that he would not listen to reason, and perhaps he had a premonition of his own sudden death, for he made a will bequeathing all he possessed to his sweetheart. I drew up the will myself, and argued against the folly of it, but he had his own way. Afterward, in the face of death, I believe he became more sensible and altered his will. Yet James' story may be all the effect of a disordered mind, said Uncle John. I do not think so, but unless he has destroyed the paper in his madness, we shall be able to find it among his possessions. With this idea in mind Mr. Watson ordered the servants to remove the gardener's body to a room in the carriage-house, and as soon as this was done he set to work to search for the paper, assisted by John Merrick. It was a telegraph blank, he said. Yes. Then we cannot mistake it, if we find any papers at all, declared the lawyer. The most likely places in James' room for anything to be hidden were a small closet, in which were shelves, loaded with odds and ends, and an old closed chest, that was concealed underneath the bed. This last was first examined, but found to contain merely an assortment of old clothing. Having tossed these in a heap upon the floor, the lawyer began an examination of the closet, the shelves promising well because of several bundles of papers they contained. While busy over these, he heard Uncle John say quietly, I've got it. The lawyer bounded from the closet. The little man had been searching the pockets of the clothing taken from the chest, and from a faded velvet coat he drew out the telegraph blank. Is it the will, asked the lawyer eagerly? Read it yourselves, said Uncle John. Mr. Watson put on his glasses. Yes, this is Tom Bradley's handwriting, sure enough. The will is brief, but it will hold good in law. Listen. I bequeath to Jane Merrick, my effianced bride, the possession and use of my estate during the term of her life. On her death all such possessions, with their accruement, shall be transferred to my sister Catherine Bradley, if she then survives, to have and to hold by her heirs and assonies for ever. But should she die without issue previous to the death of Jane Merrick, then I appoint my friend and attorney Silas Watson to distribute the property among such organized and worthy charities as he may select. That is all. Quite enough, said Uncle John, nodding approval. And it is properly signed and witnessed. The estate is Kenneth's, sir, after all, for he is the sole heir of his mother, Catherine Bradley Forbes. Hurrah! Ended the lawyer waving the yellow paper above his head. Hurrah! Go, Uncle John, gleefully, and the two men shook hands. CHAPTER XXIII Patsy, adopts, and Uncle Uncle John and Mr. Watson did not appear at dinner, being closeted in the former's room. This meal, however, was no longer a state function. Being served by the old servants is a mere matter of routine. Indeed the arrangements of the household had been considerably changed by the death of its mistress, and without any real head to direct them the servants were patiently waiting the advent of a new master or mistress. It did not seem clear to them yet whether Ms. Patricia or lawyer Watson was to take in charge of Helmhurst, but there were few tiers shed for Jane Merrick, and the new regime could not fail to be an improvement over the last. At dinner the young folks chatted together in a friendly and eager manner concerning the events of the day. They knew of old James's unfortunate end, but being unaware of its import gave it but passing attention. The main subject of conversation was Aunt Jane's surprising act in annulling her last will, and forcing Patricia to accept the inheritance when she did not want it. Kenneth, being at ease, when alone with the three cousins protested that it would not be right for Patsy to give him all the estate. But as she was so generous he would accept enough of his uncle Tom's money to educate him as an artist and provide for himself a humble home. Louise and Beth, having at last full knowledge of their cousin's desire to increase their bequest, were openly very grateful for her goodwill, although secretly they could not fail to resent Patsy's choice of the boy as the proper heir of his uncle's fortune. The balance of power seemed to be in Patricia's hands, however, so it would be folly at this juncture to offend her. Altogether they were all better provided for than they had feared would be the case, so the little party spent a pleasant evening and separated early. Beth and Louise to go to their rooms and canvas quietly the events of the day, and the boy to take a long stroll through the country lanes to cool his bewildered brain. Patsy wrote a long letter to the Major telling him that she would be home in three days, and then she went to bed and slept peacefully. After breakfast they were all summoned to the drawing-room to their great surprise. Lawyer Watson and Uncle John were there, looking as grave as the important occasion demanded, and the former at once proceeded to relate the scene in James's room, his story of the death of Thomas Bradley, and the subsequent finding of the will. This will, which has just been recovered, continued Lawyer impressively, was made subsequent to the one under which Jane Merrick inherited and therefore supersedes it. Miss Jane had, as you perceive, a perfect right to use of the estate during her lifetime, but no right whatever to will a penny of it to any one. Mr. Bradley having provided for that most fully. For this reason the will I read to you yesterday is of no effect and Kenneth Forbes inherits from his uncle through his mother all of the estate. Blank looks followed Mr. Watson's statement. Good-bye to my five thousand, said Uncle John with his chuckling laugh, but I much obliged to Jane nevertheless. Don't we get anything at all? asked Beth with quivering lip. No, my dear, answered the lawyer gently. Your aunt owned nothing to give you. Patsy laughed. She felt wonderfully relieved. Wasn't I the grand lady, though, with all the fortune I never had, she cried merrily, but Twas really fine to be rich for a day and toss the money around as if I didn't have to dress ten heads of hair in ten hours to earn my bread and butter. Louise smiled. It was all a great farce, she said. I shall take the afternoon train to the city. What an old fraud our dear Aunt Jane was, and have foolish of me to return her hundred-dollar check. I used mine, said Beth bitterly. It's all I'll ever get, it seems, and then the thought of the professor and his debts overcame her and she burst into tears. The boy said doubled within his chair so overcome by the extraordinary fortune that had overtaken him that he could not speak, nor think even clearly as yet. Patsy tried to comfort Beth. Never mind, dear, she said she. We're no worse off than before. We came, are we? And we had a nice vacation. Let's forget all the disappointments and be grateful to Aunt Jane's memory. As far as she knew she tried to be good to us. I'm going home today, said Beth, angrily drying her eyes. We'll all go home, said Patsy cheerfully. For my part remarked Uncle John in a grave voice. I have no home. Patsy ran up and put her arm around his neck. Poor Uncle John, why, you're worse off than any of us. What's going to become of you, I wonder. I'm wondering that myself, said the little man meekly. Ah, you can stay here, said the boy, suddenly aroused from his apathy. No, replied Uncle John. The Merricks are out of Elmhurst now and it returns to its rightful owners. You owe me nothing, my lad. But I like you, said Kenneth, and you're old and homeless. Stay at Elmhurst and you shall always be welcome. Uncle John seemed greatly affected and wrung the boy's hand earnestly, but he shook his head. I've wandered all my life, he said. I can wander yet. See here, exclaimed Patsy. We're all three your nieces, and we'll take care of you between us, won't we, girls? Louise smiled rather scornfully, and Beth scowled. My mother and I live so simply in our little flat, said one, that we really haven't any extra room to keep a cat, but we shall be glad to assist Uncle John as far as we are able. Uncle John is my dear mother's brother, and he's to come and live with the Major and me as long as he cares to. There's room to spare, Uncle, turning to him and clasping his hand, and a joyful welcome in the Borken. No, no, say nothing at all, sir, come, you shall. If I have to drag you, and if you act naughty, I'll send for the Major to punish you. I'll be glad to see you, and I'll be glad to see you, and I'll be glad to see you, and I'll be glad to see you, and I'll be glad to see you, and I'll be glad to see you, Uncle John's eyes were moist, he looked at Patsy most affectionately, and cast a wink at Lawyer Watson, who stood silently by. Thank you, my dear, set he, but where's the money to come from? Money? I ah! she said. Doesn't the Major earn a heap with his bookkeeping, and haven't I had it raised lately, while I will be a snug and contented as pigs in clover? Can you get ready to come with me today, Uncle John? Yes. He said slowly. I'll be ready, Patsy. So the exodus from Elmhurst took place that very day, and Beth traveled in one direction while Louise, Patsy, and Uncle John took the train for New York. Louise had a seat in the parlor-car, but Patsy laughed at such an extravagance. It's so much easier than walking, she said to Uncle John, that the common car is good enough. And the old man readily agreed with her. Kenneth and Mr. Watson came to the station to see them off, and they parted with many mutual expressions of friendship and goodwill. Louise especially pressed an urgent invitation upon the new master of Elmhurst to visit her mother in New York, and he said he hoped to see all the girls again. They were really like cousins to him by this time. After they were all gone he rode home on Nora's back quite disconsolate in spite of his wonderful fortune. The lawyer, who had consented to stay at the mansion for a time, that the boy might not be lonely, had already mapped out a plan for the young heir's advancement. As he rode beside Kenneth he said, you ought to travel and visit the art centers of Europe, and I shall try to find a competent tutor to go with you. Can't you go yourself, asked the boy? The lawyer hesitated. I'm getting old and my clients are few and unimportant, aside from the Elmhurst interests, he said. Perhaps I can manage to go abroad with you. I'd like that, declared the boy, and we'd stop in New York, couldn't we, for a time? Of course, do you want to visit New York especially? Yes, it's a rather stupid city, said the lawyer doubtfully. That may be, answered the boy. The patsy will be there, you know. End of Chapter 23 CHAPTER 24. HOME AGAIN. The major was at a station to meet them. Uncle John had shyly suggested a telegram, and patsy had decided they could stand the expense for the pleasure of seeing the old dad sooner. The girl caught sight of him outside the gates, his face red and beaming as a poppy in bloom and his snowy mustache bristling with eagerness. At once she dropped her bundles and flew to the major's arms, leaving the little man in her wake to rescue her belongings and follow after. He could hardly see patsy at all. The major wrapped her in such an ample embrace. But by and by she escaped to get her breath, and then her eyes fell upon the meek form holding her bundles. Oh, dad, she cried, here's Uncle John, who's come to live with us, and if you don't love him as much as I do, I'll make your life miserable. On which account, said the major grasping the little man's hand most cordially, I'll love Uncle John like my own brother, and surely, he added, his voice falling tenderly, my dear Violet's brother must be my own. Welcome, sir, now and always to our little home. It's modest, sir, but wherever patsy is, the sun is sure to shine. I can believe that, said Uncle John, with a nod and a smile. They boarded a car for the long ride uptown, and as soon as they were seated patsy demanded the story of major's adventures with his colonel, and the old fellow rattled away with the eagerness of a boy telling every detail in the most whimsical manner and finding something humorous in every incident. Oh, but it was grand patsy, he exclaimed, and the colonel wept on my neck when we parted and stained the collar of my best coat, and he gave me a bottle of whiskey that would make a teetoteler roll his eyes in ecstasy. It was the time of my life. And you're a dozen years younger, major, she cried, laughing, and fit to dig into work like a pig in clover. His face grew grave. But how about the money, patsy dear, he asked. Did you get nothing out of Jane Merrick's estate? Not a nickel, dad. It was the best joke you ever knew. I fought with Aunt Jane like a pirate, and it quite won her heart. When she died she left me all she had in the world. Look at that now, said the major, wonderingly. Which turned out to be nothing at all, continued patsy, for another will was found made by Mr. Thomas Bradley which gave the money to his own nephew after Aunt Jane died. Did you ever? Wonderful, said the major with a sigh. So I was rich for half a day, and then poor as ever. It didn't hurt you, did it? asked the major. You weren't vexed with disappointment, were you, patsy? Not at all, daddy. Then don't mind it, child. Like is not the money would be the ruination of us all. asked sir, appealing to Uncle John. To be sure, said the little man. Jane left five thousand to me also, which I didn't get. But I'm not sorry at all. Quite right, sir, approved the major sympathetically. Although it's easier not to expect anything at all than to set your heart on a thing and then not get it. In your case it won't matter. Our house is yours and there's plenty and to spare. Thank you, said Uncle John, his face gray, but his eyes merry. Oh, major cried patsy suddenly. There's Danny Reeves' restaurant. Let's get off and have our dinner now. I'm as hungry as a bear. So they stopped the car and descended, lugging all the parcels into the little restaurant, where they were piled into a chair while the proprietor and the waiters all gathered around patsy to welcome her home. My how her eyes sparkled. She fairly danced for joy and ordered the dinner with reckless disregard of the bill. Ah, but it's good to be back, said the little bohemian gleefully. The big house at Elmhurst was grand and stately, major, but there wasn't an ounce of love in the cupboard. Wasn't I there? Patsy asked Uncle John reproachfully. True, but now you're here and our love, Uncle, has nothing to do with Elmhurst. I'll bet a penny you liked it as little as I did. You'd win, admitted the little man. And now, said the girl, to the smiling waiter, a bottle of red California wine for Uncle John and the major and two real cigars will be married tonight if it bankrupts the Doyle family entirely. But after a merry meal and a good one there was no bill at all when it was called for. Danny Reeves himself came instead and made a nice little speech, saying that Patsy had always brought good luck to the place and this dinner was his treat to welcome her home. So the major thanked him with gracious dignity and Patsy kissed Danny on his right cheek, and then they went away happy and content to find the little rooms up on the second flight of the old tenement. It's no palace, said Patsy, entering to throw down the bundles as soon as the major unlocked the door. But there's a cricket in the hearth and it's your home, Uncle John, as well as ours. Uncle John looked around curiously. The place was so plain after the comparative luxury of Elmhurst and especially of the rose chamber Patsy had occupied that the old man could not fail to marvel at the girl's ecstatic joy to find herself in the old tenement again. There was one good-sized living room with an ancient red carpet partially covering the floor, a sheet-iron stove, a sofa, a table, and three or four old-fashioned chairs that had probably come from a secondhand dealer. Opening from this were two closet-like rooms containing each a bed and a chair with a wash basin on a bracket shelf. On the wales were a few colored prints from the Sunday newspaper and one large and fine photograph of a grizzled old soldier that Uncle John at once decided must represent the Colonel. Having noted these details, Patsy's uncle smoothed back his stubby-grey hair with the reflective and half-puzzle gesture. It's cozy enough, my child, and I thank you for my welcome, said he. But may I inquire where on earth you expect to stow me in this rather limited establishment? Where? Have you no eyes, then? she asked in astonishment. It's the finest sofa in the world, Uncle John, and you'll sleep there like a top with the deer Colonel's old picture looking down at you to keep you safe and give you happy dreams. Where, indeed? I see, said Uncle John, and you can wash in my chamber, added the Major, with a grand air, and hang your clothes on the spare hooks behind my door. I haven't many, said Uncle John, looking thoughtfully at his red bundle. The Major coughed and turned the lamp a little higher. You'll find the air fine and the neighborhood respectable, he said. To turn the subject. Our modest departments are cool in summer and warm in winter and remarkably reasonable in price. Patsy gets our breakfast on the stove yonder and we buy our lunches downtown, where we work and then dine at Danny Reeves's place. A model homestir and a happy one, as I hope you find it. I'm sure I'll be happy here, said Uncle John, taking out his pipe. May I smoke? Of course, but don't spoil the lace curtains, dear, answered Patsy mischievously, and then turning to her father she exclaimed, Oh, Daddy, what will Uncle do all day while we're at work? That's as he may choose, said the Major courteously. Couldn't we get him a job? asked Patsy wistfully. Not where there'll be too much work, you know, for Uncle as old, but just to keep him out of mischief and busy he can't hang around all day. And be happy, I suppose. I'll look around, answered the Major briskly, as if such a job was the easiest thing in the world to procure. And meantime, meantime, said Uncle John, smiling at them, I'll look around myself. To be sure, agreed the Major. Between the two of us and Patsy, we ought to have no trouble at all. There was a moment of thoughtful silence after this, and then Patsy said, You know, it won't matter, Uncle John, if you don't work, they'll be easy enough for all with the Major's wages and my own. By the by, added the Major, if you have any money about you, which is just possible, sir, of course you'd better turn it over to Patsy to keep and let her make you an allowance. That's the way I do. It's very satisfactory. The Major's extravagant exclaimed Patsy, and if he has the money he wants to treat every man he meets. Uncle John shook his head reproachfully at the Major. A very bad habit, sir, he said. I acknowledge it, Mr. Merrick, responded Major. But Patsy is fast-curing me, and after all it's a wicked city to be carrying a fat pocketbook around in, as I've often observed. My pocketbook is not exactly fat, remarked Uncle John, but you've money, sir, for I marked you squandering it on the train, said Patsy, severely, so out with it and we'll count up and see how much of an allowance I can make you till you get a job. Uncle John laughed and drew his chair up to the table, then he emptied his trouser pockets upon the cloth, and Patsy gravely separated the keys and the jackknife from the coins and proceeded to count the money. Seven dollars and forty-two cents, she announced, any more. Uncle John hesitated a moment and then drew from an inner pocket of his coat a thin wallet. From this, when she had received it from his hand, the girl abstracted two tens and one five-dollar bill, all crisp and new. Good gracious, she cried delightfully, all this wealth and you pleading poverty. I never said I was a pauper, returned Uncle John complacently. You couldn't and be truthful, sir, declared the girl. Why, this will last for ages, and I'll put it away safe and be liberal with your allowance. Let me see. Pushing the coins about with their slender fingers. You just keep the forty-two cents, Uncle John. It'll do for car fare and a bit of lunch now and then. And when you get broke, you can come to me. He smokes, observed the major, significantly. Bah, a pipe, said Patsy, and bold Durham is only five cents a bag and a bag ought to last a week. And every Saturday night, sir, you shall have a cigar after dinner with the major. It's our regular practice. Thank you, Patsy, said Uncle John meekly, and gathered up his forty-two cents. You've now a home and a manager, sir, with the money in the bank of Patsy and Company Limited, announced major. You ought to be very contented, sir. I am, replied Uncle John. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 of Anth Jane's Nesis. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, read by B.J. Chapter 25 Uncle John Acts Queerly When Patsy and Major had both departed for work on Monday morning, Uncle John boarded a car and rode downtown also. He might have accompanied them part of the way, but feared Patsy might think him extravagant if she found him so soon breaking into working fund of forty-two cents, would you charge him to be careful of it? He seemed to be in no hurry, but was early yet, and a few of the lower Broadway establishments were open. To pass the time he turned into a small restaurant and had coffee and a plate of cakes, in spite of the fact that Patsy had so recently prepared coffee over the sheet iron stove, and bought some hot buns from a nearby bakery. He was not especially hungry, but in sipping the coffee and nibbling the cakes, he passed the best part of an hour. He smiled when he paid out twenty-five cents of a slender store for the refreshment. With five cents for the car fare he had now but twelve cents left of the forty-two Patsy had given him. Talk about the mayor's extravagance. It could not be compared to Uncle John's. Another hour was spent in looking in at the shop windows. Then suddenly noting the time Uncle John started down the street at a swinging pace and presently paused before a building, upon which was a sign reading, Isham, Marvin and Company, Bankers and Brokers. A prosperous looking place, it seemed, with a host of clerks busily working in various departments. Uncle John walked in, although the uniformed official at the door eyed him suspiciously. Mr. Marvin in, he inquired pleasantly. Not arrived yet, said the official, who wore a big star upon his breast. I'll wait, announced Uncle John, and sat down upon a leather-covered bench. The official strutted up and down and watched the customers who entered the banker departed in keeping a sharp watch on the little man upon the bench. Another hour passed. Presently Uncle John jumped up and approached the official. Hasn't Mr. Marvin arrived yet, he inquired sharply. An hour ago was the reply. Then why didn't you let me know I want to see him? His busy mornings has to look over the mail. He can't see you yet. Well, he will see me, and right away, tell him John Merrick is here. Your card, sir. I haven't any. My name will do. The official hesitated and glanced at the little man's seedy garb and country-fied air. But something in the angry glance of the shrewd eye made him fear he had made a mistake. He opened the small door and disappeared. In a moment the door burst open to allow egress to a big red-bearded man in his shirt-sleeves who glanced around briefly and then rushed at Uncle John and shook both his hands cordially. My dear Mr. Merrick, he exclaimed, I'm delighted and honoured to see you here. Come to my room at once. A great surprise and pleasure, sir. Thomas, I'm engaged. The slas was directed at the head of the amazed porter, who, as the door slammed in his face, nodded solemnly and remarked. Fooled again, I might have known it. Draft those ear-brillionaires. Why don't they dress like decent people? Uncle John had been advised by Patsy where to go for a good cheap luncheon, but he did not heed her admonition. Instead he wrote in a carriage beside the banker to a splendid club, where he was served with the finest dishes the chef could provide on short notice. Moreover Mr. Marvin introduced him to several substantial gentlemen, as Mr. John Merrick of Portland, and each one bowed profoundly and declared he was highly honoured. Yet Uncle John seemed in no way elated by this reception. He retained a simple manner, although his face was more grave than Patsy had often seen it, and he talked with easy familiarity of preferred stocks and amalgated interests and invested, and securities and many other queer things that the banker seemed to understand fully and to listen to with respectful deference. Then he returned to the bank for another long session together, and there were quite an eager bustle among the clerks as they stretched their necks to get a glimpse of Mr. Marvin's companion. It's John Merrick, passed from mouth to mouth, and the uniformed official strutted from one window to another, saying, I showed him in myself, and he came to the bank as quiet as anyone else would. But he didn't go away quietly, you may be sure. Mr. Marvin and Mr. Isham both escorted their famous client to the door, where the Marvin carriage had been ordered to be ready for Mr. Merrick's service. But Uncle John waved it aside disdainfully. I'll walk, he said. There's some other errands to attend to. So they shook his hand and reminded him of a future appointment and let him go this way. In a moment the great Broadway crowd had swallowed up John Merrick, and five minutes later he was thoughtfully gazing into a shop window again. By and by he bethought himself of the time and took a cab up down. He had more than twelve cents in his pocket now, beside the checkbook, which was carefully hidden away in an inside pocket, so the cost of the cab did not worry him. He dismissed the vehicle near an uptown corner and started to walk hastily towards Don Danny Reeve's restaurant a block away. Patsy was standing in the doorway anxiously watching for him. Oh, Uncle John, she cried as he strolled. I've been really worried about you. It's such a big city and you're a stranger. Do you know you're ten minutes late? I'm sorry, he said humbly, but it's a long way here from downtown. Didn't you take a car? No, my dear. Why, you foolish old uncle, come in at once. The Major has been terribly excited over you and swore you should not be allowed to wander through the streets without someone to look after you. But what could we do? I'm all right, declared Uncle John, cordially shaking hands with Patsy's father. Have you had a good day? Thine said the Major. They missed me at the office and were glad to have me back. And what do you think? I've got a raise. Really? said Uncle John, seeing it was expected of him. For a fact. It's Patsy's doing, I've no doubt. She weedled the firm into giving me a vacation and now there to pay me twelve a week instead of ten. Is that enough? asked Uncle John doubtfully. More than enough, sir. I'm getting old and can't earn as much as a younger man, but I'm pretty tough and mean to hold on to that twelve a week as long as possible. What pay do you get, Patsy? asked Uncle John. Almost as much as Daddy. We're dreadfully rich, Uncle John, so you needn't worry if you don't strike a job yourself all at once. Any luck today, sir? asked the Major, tucking an applicant under his chin and beginning on the soup. Uncle John shook his head. Of course not, said Patsy quickly. It's too early as yet. Don't hurry, Uncle John, except that it'll keep you busy there's no need for you to work at all. You're older than I am, suggested the Major, and that makes it harder to break in, but there's no hurry, as Patsy says. Uncle John did not seem to be worrying over his idleness. He kept on questioning his brother-in-law and his niece about their labours and afterwards related to them the sights he had seen in the shop windows. Of course he could not eat much after a feast he had had at luncheon, and this disturbed Patsy a little. He insisted he was tired and carried her man away to the tenement rooms as soon as possible, where she installed them at a table to play cribbage until bedtime. The next day Uncle John seemed busy enough, although of course Patsy could not know what he was doing. He visited a real estate office, one thing, and then telephoned Isham Marvin and Company, and issued a string of orders and a voice not nearly so meek and mild as it was when he was in Patsy's presence. Whenever he had undertaken required time for all during the week he left the tenement directly the major and the daughter had gone to the city, and bustled about until it was time to meet them for dinner at the restaurant. But he was happy and in good spirits and enjoyed his evening game of cribbage with the major exceedingly. You must be nearly bankrupt by this time, said Patsy on Tuesday evening. It's an expensive city to live in, sighed Uncle John. She gave him fifty cents of his money, and then on Friday fifty cents more. After a time she said you'll manage to get along with less. It's always harder to economize at first. How about the bills he inquired? Don't I pay my share of them? Your expenses are nothing at all, declared the major with the wave of his hand. But my dinners at Danny Reeves? Place must cost a lot, protested Uncle John. Surely not. Patsy has managed all that for a trifle and the pleasure of your company more than repays for the bit of expense. On Saturday there was a pint of red wine for the two men, and then the weekly cigars were brought, very inexpensive ones, to be sure. The first whiff he took made Uncle John cough, but the major smoked so gracefully and with such evident pleasure that his brother-in-law clung manfully to the cigar and succeeded in consuming it to the end. Tomorrow is the day of rest, announced Patsy, so we'll all go for a nice walk in the parks after breakfast. And we sleep till eight o'clock, don't we, Patsy? asked the major. Of course, and the eggs for breakfast. I bought them already, three for a nickel. You don't care for more than one, do you, Uncle John? No, my dear. It's our Sunday morning extra, an egg apiece. The major is so fond of them. And so am I, Patsy. And now we'll have our cribbage and get to bed early. High-ho! But Sunday's a great day for folks that work. CHAPTER XXVI. A BUNCH OF KEYS Uncle John did not sleep well. Perhaps he had a guilty conscience. Anyway, he tossed about a good deal on the sofa bed in the living room and wore himself out to such an extent that when Patsy got up at eight o'clock her uncle had fallen into his first sound-sleep. She never disturbed his sleep. He disturbed him until she had made the fire and cooked the coffee and boiled the three white eggs. By this time the major was dressed and shaved, and he aroused Uncle John and bade him hurry into the closet and make his toilet so that Patsy could put the house to rights. Uncle John obeyed eagerly and was ready as soon as the major had brought the smoking rolls from the bakery. Ah, but it was a merry breakfast and a delicious one into the bargain. Uncle John seemed hungry. And looked at the empty eggshells regretfully. Next time, Patsy, he said, you must buy six eggs. Look at his recklessness, cried Patsy, laughing. You're just as bad as the major, every bit. If you men hadn't me for a guardian you'd be in the poor house in a month. But we have you, my dear, said Uncle John, smiling into her dancing eyes, so we won't complain at one egg instead of two. Just then someone pounded on the door, and the girl ran to open it. There was a messenger boy outside, looking smart and neat in his blue and gold uniform, and he touched his cap politely to the girl. Miss Patricia Doyle? That's me. A parcel for you. Sign here, please. Patsy signed, bothering her head the while to know what the little package contained and who could have sent it. The boy was gone, and she came back slowly to the breakfast table with a thing in her hand. What is it, Patsy? asked the major curiously. I'm dying to know myself, said the girl. Uncle John finished his coffee looking unconcerned. A good way is to open it, remarked the major. It was a very neat package, wrapped in fine paper, and sealed with red wax. Patsy turned it over once or twice, and then broke the wax and untied the cord. A bunch of keys fell out first, seven of them strung on a purple ribbon, and then a flat, impressive-looking letter was discovered. The major stared open-mouthed. Uncle John leaned back in his chair and watched the girl's face. There's a mistake, said Patsy, quite bewildered. Then she read her name upon the wrapper, quite plainly written, and shook her head. It's for me all right, but what does it mean? Why not read the letter, suggested the major? So she opened the big envelope and unfolded the stiff paper and read as follows. Miss Patricia Doyle, Becker's Flats, Duggan Street, New York Dear Miss Doyle An esteemed client of our house, who desires to remain unknown, has placed at your disposal the furnished apartments D at 3708 Willing Square for the period of three years, or as long thereafter as you may care to retain them. Our client begs you to consider everything the apartments contain as your own, and to use it freely as it may please you. All rentals and rates are paid in advance, and you are expected to take possession at once. Moreover, our firm is commanded to serve you in any and every way you may require, and it will be our greatest pleasure to be of use to you. The keys to the apartments are enclosed herewith. Most respectfully, Isham Marvin and Company. Having read this to the end, in a weak voice and with many pauses, Miss Patricia Doyle sat down in her chair with strange abruptness, and stared blankly at her father. The major stared back. So did Uncle John when her eyes roved toward his face. Patricia turned the keys over and jingled them, then she referred to the letter again. Apartments D at 3708 Willing Square. Where's that? The major shook his head. So did Uncle John. Might look in a directory, suggested the latter, uncertainly. Of course, added the major. But what does it all mean, demanded Patsy, with sudden fierceness? Is it a joke? Isham Marvin and Company, the great bankers? What do I know of them, or they of me? That isn't the point, observed the major reflectively. Who's their unknown and mysterious client, that's the question. To be sure, said Uncle John, they're only the agents. You must have a fairy godmother, Patsy. She laughed at the idea and shook her head. They don't exist in these days, Uncle John, but the whole thing must be a joke and nothing more. We'll discover that, asserted the major, shrewdly scrutinizing the letter which he had taken from Patsy's hands. It surely looks genuine enough on the face of it. I've seen the bank letterhead before, and this is no forgery you can take my word. Get your things on, Patsy. Instead of walking in the park, we'll hunt up Willing Square, and we'll take the keys with us. A very good idea, said Uncle John. I'd like to go with you, if I may. Of course you may, answered the girl, you're one of the family now, Uncle John, and you must help us to unravel the mystery. The major took off his carpet slippers and pulled on his boots, while Patricia was getting ready for the walk. Uncle John wandered around the room aimlessly for a time, and then took off his black tie and put on the white one. Patsy noticed this when she came out of her closet, and laughed merrily. You mustn't be getting excited, Uncle John, until we see how this wonderful adventure turns out, she said. But I really must wash an iron that necktie for you, if you're going to wear it on Sundays. Not a bad idea, said the major. But come! Are we all ready? They walked down the rickety steps very gravely and sedately, Patsy jingling the keys as they went, and made their way to the corner drugstore, where the major searched in the directory for Willing Square. To his surprise, it proved to be only a few blocks away. But it's in the dead-swell neighborhood, he explained, where I have no occasion to visit. We can walk it in five minutes. Patsy hesitated. Really, it's no use going, Dad, she protested. It isn't in reason that I'd have a place presented me in a dead-swell neighborhood, now is it? We'll have to go just the same, said Uncle John. I couldn't sleep a wink tonight if we didn't find out what all this means. True enough, agreed the major. Come along, Patsy, it's this way. Willing Square was not very big, but it was beautiful with flowers, and well-tended, and 3708 proved to be a handsome building with a white marble front situated directly on a corner. The major examined it critically from the sidewalk, and decided it contained six suites of apartments, three on each side. D must be the second floor to the right, he said, and that's a fine location, sure enough. A porter appeared at the front door which stood open, and examined the group upon the sidewalk with evident curiosity. Patsy walked up to him, and ignoring the big gold figures over the entrance, she inquired, Is this 3708 Willing Square? Yes, Miss, answered the porter, are you Miss Doyle? I am, she answered, surprised. One flight up Miss, and turned to the right he continued promptly, and then he winked over the girl's head at Uncle John, who frowned so terribly that the man drew aside and disappeared abruptly. The major and Patsy were staring at one another, however, and did not see this by play. Let's go up, said the major, in a husky voice, and proceeded to mount the stairs. Patsy followed close behind, and then came Uncle John. One flight up they paused at a door marked D, upon the panel of which was a rack bearing a card printed with the word Doyle. Well, well, gasped the major, who'd have thought it at all at all? Patsy with trembling fingers put a key in the lock, and after one or two efforts opened the door. The sun was shining brilliantly into a tiny reception hall furnished most luxuriously. The major placed his hat on the rack, and Uncle John followed suit. No one spoke a word, as they marched in humble procession into the living-room, their feet pressing without sound into the thick rugs. Everything here was fresh and new, but selected with excellent taste and careful attention to detail. Not a thing was lacking, from the pretty upright piano to the enameled clock ticking up on the mantle. The dining-room was a picture indeed, with stained glass windows casting their soft lights through the draperies and the sideboard shining with silver and glass. There was a cellarette in one corner, the major noticed, and it was well stocked. Beyond was a pantry with well-filled shelves, and then the kitchen, this last filled with every article that could possibly be needed. In a storeroom were enough provisions to stock a grocery-store, and Patsy noted with amazement that there was ice in the refrigerator, with cream and milk and butter cooling beside it. They felt now as if they were intruding in some fairy domain. It was all exquisite, though rather tiny, but such luxury was as far removed from the dingy-rooms they had occupied as could well be imagined. The major coughed, and a hemmed continually. Patsy awed and owed, and seemed half frightened. Uncle John walked after them silently, but with a pleased smile that was almost childish upon his round and rugged face. Across the hall were three chambers, each with a separate bath, while one had a pretty dressing-room added. This will be Patsy's room, said the major, with a vast amount of dignity. Of course, said Uncle John. The pins on the cushions spell Patricia, don't they? So they do, cried Patsy, greatly delighted. And this room continued the major, passing into the next. We'll be mine. There are fine battle scenes on the wall, and I declare there's just the place for the Colonel's photograph over the dresser. To Gar's too, said Patsy, opening a little cabinet. But it will be a shame to smoke in this place. Then I won't live here, declared the major stoutly. But no one heeded him. Here is Uncle John's room, exclaimed the girl, entering the third chamber. Mine? inquired Uncle John in mild surprise. Sure, sir. You're one of the family, and I'm glad it's as good as the major's, every bit. Uncle John's eyes twinkled. I hope the bed is soft, he remarked, pressing it critically. It's as good as the old sofa, any day, said Patsy, indignantly. Just then a bell tinkled, and after looking at one another in silent consternation for a moment, the major tiptoed stealthily to the front door, followed by the others. What'll we do, asked Patsy, in distress? Better open it, suggested Uncle John calmly. The major did so, and there was a little maid bowing and smiling outside. She entered at once, closing the door behind her, and bowed again. This is my new mistress, I suppose, she said, looking at Patsy. I am your servant, Miss Patricia. Patsy gasped and stared at her. The maid was not much older than she was, but she looked pleasant and intelligent and in keeping with the rooms. She wore a gray dress with white collar and white apron and cap, and seemed so dainty and sweet that the major and Uncle John approved her at once. Patsy sat down from sheer lack of strength to stand up. Who hired you then, she asked? A gentleman from the bank was the reply. I'm Mary, if you please, Miss, and my wages are all arranged for in advance, so there will be nothing for you to pay, said the little maid. Can you cook, asked Patsy curiously? Yes, Miss, with a smile. The dinner will be ready at one o'clock. Oh, you've been here before then? Two days, Miss, getting ready for you. And where will you sleep? I have a little room beyond the kitchen. Didn't you see it, Miss Patricia? No, Mary. Anything more at present, Miss Patricia? Mary, the maid bowed again and disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving an awestruck group behind her. The major whistled softly. Uncle John seemed quite unconcerned. Patsy took out her handkerchief. The tears would come in spite of her efforts. I—I—I'm going to have a good cry, she sobbed, and rushed into the living-room to throw herself flat upon the divan. It's all right, said the major, answering Uncle John's startled look. The cry will do her good. I have half a mind to join her myself. But he didn't. He followed Uncle John into the latter's room and smoked one of the newly discovered cigars, while the elder man lay back in an easy chair and silently puffed his pipe. By and by Patsy joined them, no longer crying but radiant with glee. Tell me, Daddy," said she, perching on the arm of the major's chair. Who gave me all this, do you think? Not me answered the major positively. I couldn't do it on twelve a week anyhow at all. And you robbed me of all my money when I came to town, said Uncle John. Stop joking, said the girl. There's no doubt this place is intended for us, is there? None at all, declared the major. It's ours for three years and not a penny to pay. Well, then, do you think it's Kenneth? The major shook his head. I don't know the lad, he said, and he might be equal to it, although I doubt it. But he can't touch his money till he comes of age, and it isn't likely his lawyer guardian would allow such extravagances. Then who can it be? I can't imagine. It doesn't seem to matter, remarked Uncle John, lighting a fresh pipe. You're not supposed to ask questions, I take it, but to enjoy your new home as much as you can. Eggs, actly, agreed the major. I've been thinking, continued Uncle John, that I'm not exactly fit for all this style, Patsy. I'll have to get a new suit of clothes to match my new quarters. Will you give me back ten dollars of that money to buy them with? I suppose I'll have to, she answered thoughtfully. We'll have to go back to Becker's Flats to pack up our traps, said the major, so we might as well go now. I hate to leave here for a single moment, replied the girl. Why? I'm afraid it will all disappear again. Nonsense, said Uncle John. For my part, I haven't any traps, so I'll stay here and guard the treasure till you return. Dinner is served, Miss Patricia, said the small maid appearing in the doorway. Then let's dine, cried Patsy, clapping her hands gleefully, and afterward the major and I will make our last visit to Becker's Flats. End of Chapter 26. Recording by Patty Cunningham Chapter 27 of Aunt Jane's Neeses This is the Liby Vox recording. All Liby Vox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibyVox.org. Recording by Winna Hathaway Aunt Jane's Neeses by Al Frank Baum Chapter 27 Louise Makes a Discovery Uncle John did not stay to guard the treasure after all, for he knew very well it would not disappear. As soon as Patsy and the major had departed for Becker's Flats, he took his own hat from the rack and walked away to hunt up another niece, Miss Louise Merrick, whose address he had casually obtained from Patsy a day or two before. It was nearby, and he soon found a place, a pretty flat in a fashionable building, although not so exclusive a residence district as Willing Square. Up three flights he rode in the elevator, and then rang softly at the door, which here the card of Mrs. Merrick. A maid opened it, and looked at him inquiringly. Are the ladies in? he asked. I'll see, your card, sir. I haven't any. She hath closed the door. Any name then? Yes, John Merrick. She closed the door entirely, and was gone several minutes. Then she came back and ushered him to the parlor into a small, rear room. Mrs. Merrick arose from her chair by the window and advanced to meet him. You are John Merrick, she inquired. You're husband's brother, ma'am, he replied. How do you do, Uncle John? Called Louise from the sofa. Excuse my getting up, won't you? And where is the world have you come from? Mrs. Merrick sat down again. Won't you take a chair? she said stiffly. I believe I will, returned Uncle John. I just came to make a call, you know. Louise has told me of you, said the lady. It was very unfortunate that your sister's death deprived you of a home. An absurd thing altogether. That fiasco of Jane Merrick's. True, he agreed. But I might have expected it, knowing the woman's character as I did. Uncle John wondered what Jane's character had to do with the finding of Tom Bradley's last will, but he said nothing. Where are you living? asked Louise. Not anywhere exactly, he answered. Although Patsy has offered me a home and I've been sleeping on the sofa in her living-room the past week. I advise you to stay with the doils, said Mrs. Merrick quickly. We haven't even a sofa to offer you here. Our flat is so small, otherwise you would be glad to be of some help to you. Have you found work? I haven't tried to yet, ma'am. It will be hard to get at your age, of course, but that is a matter in which we cannot assist you. Oh, I'm not looking for help, ma'am. She glanced at his worn clothing and soiled white necktie and smiled. But we want to do something for you, said Louise. Now, sitting up and regarding him gravely, I'm going to tell you a state secret. We are living in this luxurious way on the principle of my father's life insurance. At our present rate of expenditure we figure that the money will last us two years and nine months longer. By that time I shall be comfortably married or we will go bankrupt as the fate decides. Do you understand the situation? Perfectly. It's very simple, so the old man. And rather uncertain, isn't it? But in spite of this we are better able to help you than any of your other relatives. The Doyle's are hard-working folks and very poor. Beth says that Professor DeKraft is overhead in ears and debt and earns less every year, so you can't be counted upon. In all the American tribe the only tangible thing is my father's life insurance, which I believe you once helped him to pay a premium on. I'd forgotten that, said Uncle John. Well, we haven't. We don't want to appear ungenerous in your eyes. Someday we may need help ourselves. But just now we can't offer you a home and as Mother says you'd better stay with the Doyle's. We have talked of making you a small allowance but that may not be necessary. When you need assistance you must come to us and we'll do whatever we can as long as our money lasts. Won't that be the better way? Uncle John was silent for a moment. Then he asked, Why have you thought it necessary to assist me? Loewe seemed surprised. You were old and seemed to be without means, she answered, and that five thousand on-chain left to you turned out to be a myth. But tell me, have you money, Uncle John? Enough for my present needs, he said smiling. Mrs. Merrick seemed greatly relieved. Then there is no need of our trying to be generous, she said, and I'm glad of that on all accounts. I just called for a little visit, said Uncle John. It seemed unfriendly not to hunt you up when I was in town. I'm glad you did, replied Mrs. Merrick, glancing at the clock. But Loewe expects a young gentleman to call upon her in a few minutes and perhaps you can drop in again, another Sunday for instance. Perhaps so, said Uncle John, rising with a red face. I'll see. Goodbye, Uncle, exclaimed Loewe's, rising to take his hand. Don't feel that we've hurried you away, but come in again whenever you feel like it. Thank you, my dear, he said, and went away. Loewe's approached the open window that led to a broad balcony. The people in the next flat, young Mr. Isham, the son of the great banker and his wife were sitting on the balcony overlooking the street. But Loewe's decided to glance over the rail to discover if the young gentleman she so eagerly awaited chanced to be in sight. And as she did so, Mr. Isham cried in great excitement. There he is, Mara! That's him! And pointed towards the sidewalk. Whom? inquired Mr. Isham calmly. Why? John Merrick. John Merrick of Portland, Oregon. And who is John Merrick? asked the lady. One of the richest men in the world and the best client our house has. He's a dear queer-looking fellow and dresses like a tramp. But he's worthed from 80 to 90 millions, at least, and controls most of the canning and teen-played industries of America. I wonder what brought him into this neighborhood. Loewe's drew back from the window, pale and trembling. Then she caught up a shawl and rushed from the room. Uncle John must be overtaken and brought back at all hazards. The elevator was coming down, fortunately, and she descended quickly and reached the street, where she peered eagerly up and down for the round-plump figure of the little millionaire. But by some strange chance he had already turned a corner and disappeared. While she hesitated, the young man came briskly up swinging his cane. Why, Miss Louise? he said in some surprise. Were you by good chance waiting for me? No, indeed, she answered with a laugh. I've been saying goodbye to my rich uncle, John Merrick of Portland, who was just called. John Merrick, the teen-played magnet. I see your uncle. My father's own brother, she answered gaily. Come upstairs, please. Mother will be glad to see you. End of Chapter 27 Recording by Winnah Hathaway in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Bridget Gage Aunt Jane's nieces by L. Frank Baum Chapter 28 Patsy Loses Her Job Uncle John reached Willing Square before Patsy and her father returned, but soon afterward they arrived in an antiquated carriage surrounded by innumerable bundles. The driver's a friend of mine, explained the major, and he moved us for fifty cents, we didn't bring a bit of the furniture or beds, for there's no place here to put them. But as the rent at Becker's flat is paid to the first of next month, we'll have plenty of time to auction them all off. The rest of the day was spent most delightfully in establishing themselves in the new home. It didn't take the girl long to put her few belongings into the closets and drawers, but there were a thousand little things to examine in the rooms, and she made some important discovery at every turn. Daddy, she said impressively, it must have cost a big fortune to furnish these little rooms. They're full of very expensive things, and none of the grand houses Madam Bourne has sent me to is any finer than ours. I'm sure the place is too good for us who are working people. Do you think we ought to stay here?" The Doyles, answered the major, very seriously, are one of the greatest and most aristocratic families in all Ireland, which is the most aristocratic country in the world. If I only had our pedigree, I could prove it to you easily. There's nothing too good for an Irish gentleman, even if he condescends to bookkeeping to supply the immediate necessities of life. And as your me-owned daughter, Patricia, though American on your poor sainted mother's side, you're entitled to all you can get honestly. Am I right, Uncle John, or do I flatter myself?" Uncle John stroked the girl's head softly. You are quite right, he said. There is nothing too good for a brave, honest girl whose heart is in the right place. And that's Patsy, declared the major, as if the question were finally settled. On Monday morning, Mary had a dainty breakfast all ready for them at 7 o'clock, and Patsy and her father departed with light hearts for their work. Uncle John rode partway downtown with them. I'm going to buy a new suit today, and a new necktie, he said. Don't let them rob you, was Patsy's all right? Is your money all safe? And if you buy a ten-dollar suit of clothes, the dealer ought to throw in the necktie to bind the bargain, and see that they're all wool, Uncle John. What, the neckties? No, the clothes. Goodbye, and don't be late to dinner. Mary might scold. I'll remember, goodbye, my dear. Patsy was almost singing for joy when she walked into Madame Bourne's hairdressing establishment. Don't take off your things, said the madam, sharply. Your services looked at her in amazement. Doubtless she hadn't heard her right. I have another girl in your place, continued Madame Bourne, so I'll bid you good morning. Patsy's heart was beating fast. Do you mean I'm discharged? She asked, with a catch in her voice. That's it precisely. Have I done anything wrong, Madame? It isn't that, said Madame pettishly. I simply do not require your services. You are paid up to Saturday night, and I owe you nothing. Don't run along. Patsy stood looking at her and wondering what to do. To lose this place was certainly a great calamity. You'll give me a testimonial, won't you, Madame? She asked falteringly. I don't give testimonials, was the reply. Do run away, child. I'm very busy this morning. Patsy went away. All her happiness turned to bitter grief. What would the major say, and what were they to do without her wages? Then she remembered willing square to do what she did. Money was not as necessary now as it had been before. Nevertheless she applied to one or two hairdressers for employment, and met with abrupt refusals. They had all the help they needed. So she decided to go back home and think it over before taking further action. It was nearly ten o'clock when she fitted her passkey into the carved door of apartment D, and when she entered the pretty living-room, she found an elderly lady seated there in a stoyle and queered the lady. Yes, ma'am, said Patsy. I am Mrs. Wilson, and I have been engaged to give you private instruction from ten to twelve every morning. Patsy plumped down upon a chair and looked her amazement. May I ask who engaged you? She ventured to inquire. A gentleman from the bank of Isha, Marvin and Co., made the arrangement. May I take off my things? If you please, said the girl quietly. Evidently this explained why Madam Bourne had discharged her so heartlessly. The gentleman from Isha, Marvin and Co., had doubtless interviewed the madam and told her what to do. And then, knowing she would be at liberty, he had sent her this private instructor. The girl felt that the conduct of her life had been taken out of her hands entirely, and that she was now being guided and cared for by her unknown friend and benefactor. And although she was inclined to resent the loss of her independence, at first, her judgment told her not to be wise but to her great advantage to submit. She found Mrs. Wilson a charming and cultivated lady, who proved so gracious and kindly that the girl felt quite at ease in her presence. She soon discovered how woefully ignorant Patsy was, and arranged a course of instruction that would be of most benefit to her. I have been asked to prepare you to enter a girl's college, she said, and if you were a ton of in which Mary served in the cozy dining room. And then Mrs. Wilson departed and left her alone to think over this new example of her unknown friend's thoughtful care. At three o'clock the doorbell rang, and Mary ushered in another strange person, a pretty, fair-haired young lady this time, who said she was to give Miss Doyle lessons on the piano. Patsy was delighted, it was the one accomplishment she most longed to acquire, and she entered into the first lesson with an eagerness that Miss Doyle approvingly. Meantime the Major was having his own surprises. At the office the manager met him on his arrival, and called him into his private room. Major Doyle, said he, it is with great regret that we part with you, for you have served our house most faithfully. The Major was nonplussed. But continued the manager, our bankers, Muzuz, Isham, Marvin and Co., have asked us to spare you for them, as they have a place requiring a man of your much better than with us. Take this card, sir, and step over to the bankers, and inquire for Mr. Marvin. I congratulate you, Major Doyle, on your advancement, which I admit is fully deserved. The Major seemed dazed. Like a man walking in a dream, he made his way to the great banking house, and sent in the card to Mr. Marvin. That gentleman greeted him most cordially. We want you to act as special auditor of accounts, said he. It is your ability. But your duties will not be arduous. You will occupy private office number eleven, and your hours are only from ten to twelve each morning. After that, you will be at liberty. The salary I regret to say is not commensurate with your value, being merely twenty-four hundred a year. But as you will have part of the day to yourself, you will doubtless be able to supplement that sum in other ways. Is this satisfactory, sir? Quite so, answered the Major. One hundred a year, and only two hours work. Quite satisfactory, indeed. His little office was very cosy, too, and the work of auditing the accounts of the most important customers of the house required accuracy, but no amount of labor. It was an ideal occupation for a man of his years and limited training. He stayed in the office until two o'clock that day, in order to get fully acquainted with the details of his work. Then he closed his desk, went to amazingly, and then decided to return to Willing Square and to wait Patsy's return from Madame Bourne's. As he let himself in, he heard an awkward drumming and strumming on the piano, and peering slyly through the opening in the porture, he was startled to find Patsy herself making the dreadful noise, while the pretty girl sat beside her directing the movements of her fingers. The Major watched for several minutes, in silent but amazed exaltation. Then he tipped toad softly to his focus agar, and wait until his daughter was at liberty to hear his great news and explain her own adventures. When Uncle John came home to dinner, he found father and daughter seated happily together in a loving embrace, their faces wreathed with ecstatic smiles that were wonderful to behold. Uncle John was radiant and a brand new pepper and salt suit of clothes that fitted his little round form perfectly. Patsy marveled that he could get such a handsome outfit for the money, for Uncle John had on new linen hat, and even a red-boarder tanker shift for the coat pocket, besides the necktie, and the necktie was of fine silk and in the latest fashion. The transformation was complete, and Uncle John had suddenly become an eminently respectable old gentleman, with very little to criticize in his appearance. Do I match the flat now, he asked? To a dot, declared Patsy, so come to dinner, for it's ready and waiting, and the Major and I have some wonderful fairy tales to tell you. Uncle John demanded no little attention. She would not let Mary dust the ornaments or arrange the rooms at all, but lovingly performed those duties herself, and soon became an ideal housekeeper, as Uncle John approvingly remarked. And as she flitted from room to room, she sang such merry songs that it was a delight to hear her, and the Major was sure to get home from the city in time to listen to the strumming of the piano at three o'clock from the recess of his own snug chamber. Uncle John went to the city every morning, and at first this occasion no remark. Patsy was too occupied to pay much attention to her uncle's coming and going, and the Major was indifferent, being busy admiring Patsy's happiness and congratulating himself on his own good fortune. The position at the bank had raised the good man's importance several notches. The clerks traded him with fine consideration, and the heads of the firm were cordial and most pleasant. His fine, soldierly figure and kindly white mustached face conferred a certain dignity upon his employers, which they seemed to respect and appreciate. It was on Wednesday that the Major encountered the name of John Merrick on the books. The account was an enormous one, running into millions in stocks and securities. The Major smiled. That's Uncle John's name, he reflected. It would please him to know he had a namesake so rich as this one. The next day he noted that John Merrick's holdings were mostly in western canning industries and tin plate factories, and again he recalled that Uncle John had once been a tinsmith. The connection was rather curious. But it was not until Saturday morning that the truth dawned upon him and struck him like a blow from a sledgehammer. He had occasion to visit Mr. Marvin's private office, but being told that the gentleman was engaged with an important customer he lingered outside the door, waiting. Presently the door was partly opened. Don't forget to sell two thousand of the cotton nettle stock tomorrow, he heard a familiar voice say. I'll not forget Mr. Merrick, answered the banker. And by that property on Bleaker Street at the price offered it's a fair proposition and I need the land. Very well, Mr. Merrick, would it not be better for me to send these papers by a messenger to your house? No, I'll take them myself, no one will rob me. And then the door swung open, and chuckling in his usual whimsical fashion Uncle John came out, wearing his salt and pepper suit and stuffing a bundle of papers into his inside pocket. The Major stared at him haughtily, but made no attempt to openly recognize the man. Uncle John gave a start, laughed, and then walked away briskly, throwing a hasty goodbye to the obsequious banker who followed him out bowing low. The Major returned to his office with a grave face and sat for the best part of three hours in a brown study. Then he left his hat and went home. Patsy asked anxiously if anything had happened when she saw his face, but the Major shook his head. Uncle John arrived just in time for dinner in a very genial mood, and he and Patsy kept up a lively conversation at the table, while the Major booked stern every time he caught the little man's eye. But Uncle John never minded. He was not even as meek and humble as usual, but laughed and chatted with the freedom of a boy just out of school, which made Patsy both had improved him in more ways than one. When dinner was over the Major led them into the sitting-room, turned up the lights, and then confronted the little man with a determined and majestic air. Sir, said he, give an account of yourself. Eh? John Merrick, millionaire and imposter who came into my family under false pretenses and won our love and friendship when we didn't know it, give an account of yourself. Patsy laughed. What are you up to, Daddy? She demanded. What has Uncle John been doing? Deceiving us, my dear. Nonsense, said Uncle John, lighting his old briar pipe. You've been deceiving yourselves. Didn't you convey the impression that you were poor? Demanded the Major, sternly. No. Didn't you let Patsy take away your thirty-two dollars and forty-two cents, thinking it was all you had? Yes. Aren't you worth millions and millions of dollars, so many that you can't count them yourself? Perhaps. Then Sir concluded the Major, mopping the perspiration from his forehead and sitting down limply in his chair. What do you mean by it? Patsy stood pale and trembling. Her round eyes fixed upon her Uncle's composed face. Uncle John, she faltered. Yes, my dear. Is it all true? Are you so very rich? Yes, my dear. And it's you that gave me this house and—and everything else and got the Major his fine job and me discharged and—and— Of course, Patsy. Why not? Oh, Uncle John. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing happily as he clasped her little form to his bosom and the Major coughed and blew his nose and muttered unintelligible words into his handkerchief. Then Patsy sprang up and rushed upon her father, crying, Oh, Daddy, aren't you glad it's Uncle John? I have still to hear his explanation, as did the Major. Uncle John beamed upon them. Perhaps he had never been so happy before in all his life. I'm willing to explain, he said, lighting his pipe again and settling himself in his chair. But my story is a simple one, dear friends, and not nearly so wonderful as you may imagine. My father had a big family that kept him poor, and I was a tin-smith with little work to be had in the village where we lived. Until I got to Portland, Oregon. There was work in plenty there, making the tin cans in which salmon and other fishes packed, and as I was industrious I soon had a shop of my own and supplied cans to the packers. The shop grew to be a great factory, employing hundreds of men. Then I bought up the factories of my competitors, so as to control the market, and I used so much tin play I became interested in the manufacture of this product and invested a good deal of money in the production of American tin. My factories were now scattered all along the coast, even to California, where I made the cans for the great quantities of canned fruits they shipped from that section every year. Of course the business made me rich, and I bought real estate with my extra money, and doubled my fortune again and again. I never married, for all my heart was in the business, and I thought of nothing else. But a while ago a big consolidation of the canning industries was affected, and the active management I resigned to other hands because I had grown old and had too much money already. It was then that I remembered the family and went back quietly to the village where I was born. They were all dead or scattered, I found, but because Jane had inherited a fortune in some way, I discovered where she lived and went to see her. I suppose it was because my clothes were old and shabby that Jane concluded I was a poor man and needed assistance, and I didn't take the trouble to un-deceive her. I also found my three nieces at Elmhurst, and it struck me it would be a good time to study their characters. For, like Jane, I had a fortune to leave behind me, and I was curious to find out which girl was the most deserving. No one suspected my disguise. I don't usually wear such poor clothes, you know, but I have grown to be careless of dress in the west, and finding that I was supposed to be a poor man, I clung to that old suit like grim death to a grasshopper. It was very wicked of you, said Patsy soberly, from her father's lap. As it turned out, continued the little man, Jane's desire to leave her money to her nieces amounted to nothing, for the money wasn't hers. But I must say, it was kind of her to put me down for five thousand dollars now, wasn't it? The major grinned. And that's the whole story, my friends. After Jane's death you offered me a home, the best you had to give, and I accepted it. I had to come to New York anyway, you know, for Isha Marvin and my bankers for years, and there was considerable business to transact with them. I think that's all, isn't it? Then this house is yours, said Patsy, wonderingly. No, my dear, the whole block belongs to you, and here's the deed for it, drawing a package of papers from his pocket. It's a very good property, Patsy, and the rents you get from the other five flats will be a fortune in themselves. For a time the three sat in silence. Then the girl whispered, softly, why are you so good to me, Uncle John? Just because I like you, Patsy, and you were my niece. And the other nieces? Well, I don't mean they shall wait for my death to be made happy, answered Uncle John. Here's a paper that gives to Louise's mother the use of a hundred thousand dollars as long as she lives. After that, Louise will have the money to do as she pleases with. How fine, cried Patsy, clapping her hands joyfully. And here's another paper that gives Professor DeGraft the use of another hundred thousand. Beth is to have it when he dies. She's a sensible girl, and will take good care of it. Indeed she will, said Patsy. And now, said Uncle John, I want to know if I can keep my little room in your apartment's Patsy, or if you'd prefer me to find another boarding place. Your home is here as long as you live, Uncle John. I never meant to part with you when I thought you were poor, and I'll not desert you now that I know you're rich. Patsy, cried the Major, and Uncle John smiled and kissed the girl, and then lighted his pipe again, for it had gone out. End of Chapter 29 End of Aunt Jane's Nieces by L. Frank Baum