 CHAPTER XXVIII. DREAMS AND DRESSMAKING Tato was now one of the family. They left Taormina the next day, and Frascati drove all the girls in his Victoria to the station. "'You must come again, Sr. Aine," he said, looking regretful at their departure. "'Next year the fountain of the ice-cream soda will be in operation, like those you have in Chicago, which is America. Our culture increases with our civilization. It is even hinted that Ilduca is to abandon our island forever. He has been interesting to us, but not popular, and you will not miss him when you come again to find he is not here. If this time he has caused you an inconvenience, I am sorry. It is regrettable, but—' "'But it is so,' said Patsy, laughing. Tato was again transformed. Patricia, who was the smallest of the three nieces, though not especially slim, had quickly altered one of her own pretty white gowns to fit the child, and as she was deft with her needle, and the others had enthusiastically assisted her. Tato now looked more like a fairy than ever. It was really wonderful what a suitable dress could do for the tiny Sicilian maid. She had lost her free and boyish manner, and become shy in retiring with strangers, although when in the society of the three nieces, she was as sweet and frank as ever. She wore her new gown gracefully, too, as if well accustomed to feminine attire all her life. The only thing now needed, as Patsy said, was time and which to grow her hair, which had always been cut short, in boyish fashion. They were a merry party when they boarded the train for Syracuse, and Uncle John arranged with the guard to secure two adjoining compartments all to themselves, that they might have plenty of room. "'Where did you put the money, Uncle John?' Beth whispered, when at last they were whirling along and skirting the base of Mount Etna toward the Catania side. "'I've hidden it in my trunk,' he replied, in the same confidential tone. There is no bank in this neighborhood to receive it, so I decided to carry it with us. "'But will it be safe in the trunk?' she inquired. "'Of course, my dear. Who would think of looking there for fifty thousand dollars? And no one knows we happen to have so much money with us.' "'What did the Count, I mean Mr. Weldon, do with his ransom?' "'Carries it in his satchel, so he can keep it with him, and have an eye on it. It's a great mistake, Beth, to do such a thing as that. It'll make him uneasy every minute, and he won't dare to let a faquino handle his grip. But in my case, on the other hand, I know it somewhere in the baggage-car, so I don't have to worry. The journey was a delightful one. The road skirted the coast through the oldest and most picturesque part of Sicily, and it amazed them to observe that however far they traveled Etna was always apparently next door, and within reaching distance. At Asicastello they were pointed out the seven aisles of the Cyclops, which the blind Polyphemus once hurled after the crafty Ulysses. Then they came to Catania, which is the second largest city in Sicily, but has little of historic interest. Here they were really at the nearest point to the mighty volcano, but did not realize it because it always seemed to be near them. Eighteen miles farther they passed the Antinoy, which in ancient days dared to rival Syracusa itself, and an hour later the train skirted the bay and Capo Santa Panagia and slowly came to a halt in that city which for centuries dominated all the known world and was more powerful and magnificent in its prime than Athens itself, Syracuse. The day had become cloudy and gray, and the wind whistled around them with a chill sweep as they left their coach at the station and waited for Kenneth to find carriages. Afterward they had a mile to drive to their hotel, for instead of stopping in the modern town Uncle John had telegraphed for rums at the Vila Paliti, which is located in the ancient Accordina at the edge of the Latomia di Capicini. By the time they arrived there they were blue with cold, and were glad to seek the warm rums prepared for them and pass the remainder of the afternoon, unpacking, and getting settled. "'I am afraid,' said Patsy dolefully, that we shall miss the bright sunshine and warmth of Taormina, Tato. "'Oh, it is not always warm there, nor is it always cold here,' replied the child. "'Indeed, Sr. Ina, I have heard that the climate of Syracusa is very delightful.' "'It doesn't look it,' returned Patsy, but it may improve. The interior of the hotel was comfortable, though, however bleak the weather might be outside. A good dinner put them all in better humor, and they passed the evening watching the strangers assembled in the parlors and wondering where they had come from and who they were. "'That money,' whispered Uncle John to Beth, as he kissed her good night, is still as safe as can be. I've lost the key to my trunk, and now I can't even get it at myself.' "'Lost it?' she exclaimed. "'Yes, but that won't matter. It's the big trunk that holds the things I don't often use, and if I can't unlock it, no one else can. That's certain. So I shall rest easy until I need something out of it, and then I'll get a locksmith to pick the lock.' "'But I wish you hadn't lost the key,' said the girl, thoughtfully. "'Strikes me it's good luck. Pleasant dreams, my dear. I can fancy Arthur Weldon lying awake all night with his dreadful thirty thousand tucked under his pillow. It's a great mistake to carry so much money with you, Beth, for you're sure to worry about it.' The next morning, when they came down to breakfast, they were all amazed at the gorgeous weather and the genial temperature that had followed the dreary afternoon of their arrival. Sarah Cuse was transformed, and from every window of the hotel the brilliant glow of countless flowers invited one to wander in the gardens, which are surpassed by few, if any, in the known world. The Velopoliti stood so near the edge of a monstrous quarry that it seemed as if it might topple into the abyss at any moment. Our friends were on historic ground, indeed, for these quarries, or Latomia, as they are called, supplied all the stone of which the five cities of ancient Syracuse were built. Cities which in our age have nearly, if not quite, passed out of existence. The walls of the quarry are a hundred feet in depth, and at the bottom are now acres upon acres of the most delightful gardens, whose luxuriance is attributable to the fact that they are shielded from the winds, while the sun reaches them nearly all the day. There are gardens on the level above, and beautiful ones, too. But these in the deep Latomia are the most fascinating. The girls could scarcely wait to finish breakfast before rushing out to descend the flights of iron steps that lead to the bottom of the vast excavation. And presently they were standing on the ground below and looking up at the vine-covered cliffs that shut out all the upper world. It was peaceful here, and soothing to tired nerves. Through blooming shrubbery and along quiet paths they might wander for hours, and at every step find something new to marvel at and to delight the senses. Here were ancient tombs cut from the solid rock, one of them that of an American midshipman, who died in Syracuse, and selected this impressive and lovely vault for his burial place. And there stood the famous statue of Archimedes, who used in life to wander in this very Latomia. Once, said Mr. Watson musingly, there were seven thousand Athenian prisoners confined in this very place, and allowed to perish through starvation and disease. The citizens of Syracuse, even the fine ladies and the little children, used to stand on the heights above and mock at the victims of their king's cruelty. Couldn't they climb out? asked Patsy, shuddering at the thought that some of the poor prisoners might have died on the very spot her feet now trod. No, dear, and it is said that the guards constantly patrolled the edge to slay any who might venture to make the attempt. Wasn't it dreadful, she exclaimed, but I'm glad they have made a flower garden of it now. Somehow it reminds me of a cemetery. But there were other interesting sites to be seen at Syracuse, and they laid out a systematic program of the places they would visit each morning while they remained there. The afternoons were supposed to be reserved for rest, but the girls were so eager to supply Tato with a fitting wardrobe that they at once began to devote the afternoons to shopping and dressmaking. The child had placed in Uncle John's keeping a liberally supplied purse, which the Duke wished to be applied to the purchase of whatever his daughter might need or desire. He wants me to dress as you do, said Tato simply, and because you will know what is fitting my station and will be required in my future life, he has burdened you with my society. It was selfish in my father, was it not? But I wanted so much to be with you, because you are good to me. And we're mighty glad to have you with us, answered Patsy. It's no end of fun getting a girl a whole new outfit from top to toe, and aside from that we already love you as if you were our little sister. Beth and Louise equally endorsed this statement, and indeed the child was so sweet and pretty, and so grateful for the least kindness bestowed upon her, that it was a pleasure to assist and counsel her. Tato looked even smaller in girls' clothing than in boys, and she improved so rapidly in her manners by constantly watching the nieces, that it was hard to imagine that she had until now been all on use to polite society. Already they began to dread the day when her father would come to claim her, and the girls and Uncle John had conceived a clever plan to induce the Duke to let his daughter travel with them on the continent, and then go for a brief visit to them in America. By that time, declared Louise, Tato's education will be accomplished, and she will be as refined and ladylike as any girl of her age we know. Blood will tell, they say, and the monk who taught her must have been an intelligent and careful man. She knows more of history and languages than all the rest of us put together, added Beth. And having adopted her, we mustn't do the thing by halves, concluded Patsy, so our darling little Brigandus must tease her papa to let her stay with us as long as possible. Tato smiled and blushed with pleasure. It was very delightful to know she had such enthusiastic friends. But she was afraid the Duke would not like to spare her for so long a time as a visit to America would require. You leave him to me, Sir Uncle John. I'll argue the case clearly and logically, and after that he will have to cave in gracefully. Meantime the dainty gowns and pretty costumes were one by one finished and sent to the hotel, and the girl's ransacked the rather inadequate shops of Syracuse for the smartest things in lingerie that could be procured. As they were determined to try everything on and see how their protégé looked in her finery, Tato was now obliged to dress for dinner and on every other possible occasion, and she not only astonished her friends by her loveliness, but drew the eye of every stranger as surely as the magna attracts the needle. Even in Sicily, where the Greek type of beauty today exists more perfectly than in Helen, there were few to compare with Tato, and it was only natural that the Americans should be very proud of her. Kenneth was sketching a bit of the quarry and the old monastery beyond it, with the blue sea glimmering in the gardens. Sometimes he would join the others in the morning trips to the catacombs, the cathedrals, or the museum. But the afternoons he devoted to his picture, and the others came to the gardens with him, and sat themselves down to sow or read beside his easel. Arthur Weldon was behaving very well indeed, and although a good deal of the credit belonged to Louise, who managed him with rare diplomatic ability, Uncle John grew to like the young man better each day, and had no fault whatever to find with him. He was still rather silent and reserved, but that seemed a part of his nature, inherited doubtless from his father, and when he chose to talk, his conversation was interesting and agreeable. Kenneth claimed that Arthur had a bad habit of making goo-goo eyes at Louise, but the young man's manner was always courteous and judicious when addressing her, and he managed to conceal his love with admirable discretion, at least when others were present. Uncle John's private opinion, confided in secret to his friend Mr. Watson, was that Louise really might do worse, that is, if they were both of the same mind when they grew up, and so the days passed pleasantly away, and the time for their departure from Syracuse drew near. On the last morning all of them, with the exception of Tato, who pleaded a headache, drove to the Latomia del Piridicio to see the celebrated ear of Dionysius, that vast cavern through which the tyrant is said to have overheard every whisper uttered by the prisoners who were confined in that quarry. There is a little room at the top of the cliff, also built from the rock, where it is claimed that Dionysius sat and played eavesdropper, and it is true that one in that place can hear the slightest sound uttered in the chamber below. Afterward the amphitheater and the ancient street of the tombs were paid a final visit, with a stop at San Giovanni, where St. Paul once preached. And at noon the tourist returned to the hotel hungry but enthusiastic, in time for the table du hôté luncheon. CHAPTER XXIX This is Fanny, Cried Petsy, appearing before Uncle John with a wide and startled face. I can't find Teto anywhere, and her drunk is gone from her room, as well as her gowns and everything she owns, continued best clear voice over her cousin's shoulder. Uncle John stared at them bewildered. Then an expression of anxiety cut over his kindly face. Are you sure? he asked. There can't be a mistake, Uncle. She's just gone. None of us has offended or annoyed the child, I suppose? Oh no, Uncle. She kissed us all very sweetly when we left her this morning. I can't understand it. Nor can we. Could her father have come for her, do you think? suggested Mr. Merrick after a moment's thought. I can't imagine her so ungrateful as to leave us without the word, said Petsy. I know Teto well, Uncle, and the dear child would not hurt our feelings for the world. She laughs us dearly. But she's a queer thing, added Louise. And I don't trust her all together. Sometimes I've surprised a look in her eyes that wasn't as innocent and demure as she would have us imagine her. Oh, Louise! And there's another reason. What is it? She reformed too suddenly. Uncle John slept his forehead a mighty blow as a suspicious and dreadful sword flashed across his mind. But next instant he drew a long-pressed and smiled again. It was lucky I lost a key to the trunk, he observed. Still a little ashamed of his temporary lack of confidence in Teto. It's been locked ever since we left our meaner, so the child couldn't be tempted by that. She wouldn't touch your money for the world, the Pets Teto is no thief. She comes off a race of thieves, though, best reminded her. I wonder if us, as money, is still safe, remarked Louise, following the line of swords suggested. As if with one accord the move down the hall to the door of the young man's room. Are you in, Arthur? asked Uncle John, knocking briskly. Yes, sir. He opened his door at once, and so we surprised a little group of anxious faces at sight. Is your money safe? asked Uncle John. Weldon gifted him a startled glance, and then ran to his dress and pulled open a drawer. After a moment's fumbling, he turned with a smile. All safe, sir. Uncle John and his nieces were visibly relieved. You see, continued Arthur, I've invented a clever hiding place, because the satchel could not be left alone, and they didn't wish to lug it with me every step I took. So I placed the packages of bills inside the leg of a pair of trousers, and put them in the drawer with some other closing on top and bottom. A dozen people might get damaged in the drawer without suspecting the fact that the money is hidden there. I've come to believe the place is as good as a bank, but you startled me for a minute with your question. What's wrong? Tattoo's gone. Gone? Departed back in baggage. But you're fifty-thousand, sir. Is it safe? It has to be, answered Uncle John. It is in a steel-bound double-locked trunk, to which I've lost the key. No bank can beat that, my boy. Then why did the child run away? They could not answer that. It's a mystery. Said Betsy, almost ready to weep. But I bet it's the cruel, wicked father of hers. Perhaps he came while we were out, and wouldn't wait a minute. What does the whole parter say? Ask Kenneth, who had joined the group in time to overhear the last speech and guess what had happened. Stupid, cried Uncle John. We never thought of the whole parter. Come back to our sitting room, and we'll have him up in a chibi. The parter answered his spell with electricity. The Americans were liberal guests. The young lady? Ah, she had driven away soon after they had themselves gone. A sin-faced, dark-eyed man had called for her and taken her away, placing her baggage on the top box of the carriage. Yes, she had paid her bail and tipped the servants liberally. Just as I suspected, cried Betsy, that horrid Duke has forced her to leave us. Perhaps he was jealous and feared we would want to keep her for always. Was she weeping a miserable parter? No, Signorina. She laughed and was very merry. And, but I had forgotten, there's a letter which she left for the young lady in your dole. Where? In the office. I'll bring it at once. He ran away and quickly returned, placing a rather bulky parcel in the girl's hands. You read it, Uncle John, she said. There can't be anything private in Tatu's letter, and perhaps she has explained everything. He put on his glasses and then took the missive and deliberately opened it. Tatu wrote the fine delicate hand, and although the English words were badly spelled, she expressed herself quite well in the foreign town. With the spelling and lack of punctuation corrected, her letter was as follows. Dear innocent foolish Betsy, how astonished you will be to find I've finished from your life forever, and what engrossed and indignant words you will hurl after Portetto. But they will not reach me, because you will not know in which direction to send them, and I will not care whether you are engrossed or not. You have been good to me, Betsy, and I really love you, fully as much as I have here of the true and pretty cousin of yours, whose cold eyes have made me tremble more than once. But the albass I forgive her, because she is the only clever one of the lot of you. Louis thinks she is clever, but her actions remind me of a juggler who explained his tricks before he did them, so that the audience would know how skillfully he was. But oh, Betsy, what simple dens you all are, and because you have been too stupid to guess the truth, I must bother to write it all down, for it would spoil much of my satisfaction and enjoyment if you did not know how completely I fooled you. You tricked us that day in the mountain glen, and for the first terminal canter break and lost his prisoner, and his ransom money through being outwitted. But did you think that was the end? If so, you failed to appreciate us. Look, you, my dear, you could have done without the money, for our family has been robbing and accumulating for ages, and this little need to expend much from year to year. It is all in the bank of Italy too, and drawing the interest for my father is a wise man of business. That 400,000 lira was to have been our last ransom, and after we had fairly earned it, you tricked us and did not pay. So, my father and I determined to get even with you, as much through revenge as cupidity. We were obliged to desert the valley at once, because we were getting so rich that the government of fishers became uneasy and wanted us to go or be arrested. So, we consulted together and decided to ponder our little plot, which was so simple that it has worked perfectly. We came to you with our sad story, and you thought we had reformed, and kindly adopted me as one of your party. It was so easy that you almost laughed in your foolish faces. But I didn't, for I can act. I played the child very nicely, I think, and you quite forgot I was a brilliant starter, with the wild-free blood of many brave outlaws cursing in my veins. Ah, I'm more proud of that than of my acting. Innocent as I seemed, I watched you all carefully, and knew from almost the first hour where the money had been put. I stole the key from Uncle John's trunk on the train, while we were going from Tarumina to Syracuse. But I did not take the money from it, because I had no better place to keep it, and the only danger was that he would force the lock some day. But Feralti's money? I call him Feralti, because it is a prettier name than Verden, but of me for a long time. At the first he would not let that little satchel out of his sight, and when he finally did, he removed the money to some other place. I searched his room many times, but could not find his hiding place until last night. While he was at dinner, I discovered the purse in one of the drawers of his dresser. But for this difficulty, I should have left your charming society before, as my father has been secretly waiting for me for three days. Having located Feralti's money, I waited until this morning, and when he had all left me, I signalled to my father from my window and prepared to disappear. It took but a few minutes to get the money from Uncle John's trunk and ask us to house a legs. Much obliged for it, I'm sure. Then I packed up all my pretty dresses in my new trunk, for part of our blood was to use your good taste in fitting me out properly. And now I'm writing this loving epistle before I leave. We shall go to Paris, or Vienna, or Cairo or London. Guess which? We shall have other names, very beautiful ones, and be rich and dignified and respected. When I grow old, I think I shall marry a prince and become a princess. But that will not interest you much, for you will not know that the great princess is your own little tattoo. Tell Uncle John I have left the key of his trunk on the mantle, behind the picture of the Madonna. I stuffed papers into us as trousers legs to deceive him. If he came back before, I had a chance to escape. But I hoped you would discover nothing until you read this letter, for I wanted to surprise you. Have I? Then I am content. You tricked me once, but I have tricked you at the last, and the final triumph is mine. In spite of all, Petsitea, I love you, for you are sweet and good, and although I would not be like you for the world, I can appreciate your excellent qualities. Remember this, when your anger is gone, I won't be able to visit you in America, but I shall always think of you in a more kindly way than I fear you will think of this Elysian tomboy tattoo. End of chapter 29, Recording by Ellie, December 2009 In his eyes blazed, Silas Watson stared blankly at his old friend, wondering if it was because he was growing old that he had been so easily hoodwinked by this saucy child. Beth was biting her lip to keep back the tears of humiliation that longed to trickle down her cheeks. Louis frowned because she remembered the hard things Tato had said of her. Patsy was softly crying at the loss of her friend. Then Kenneth laughed, and the sound sent a nervous shiver through the group. Tato's a brick, announced the boy audaciously. Can't you see, you stupid? That the thing is a good joke on us all, or are you too thin-skinned to laugh at your own expense? Oh, we can laugh, responded Uncle John gravely. But if Tato's a brick, it's because she's hard and insensible. The loss of the money doesn't hurt me, but to think the wicked little lass made me love her when she didn't deserve it is the hardest blow I have ever received. That made Patsy sob outright while Louis ejaculated with scorn, the little wretch. It serves us right for having confidence in a child reared to crime and murder from the cradle, said Arthur rather savagely. I don't know how much money I am worth, but I'd gladly spend another 30,000 to bring this wretched creature to justice. Money won't do it, decoyed the lawyer shaking his head regretfully. The rascals are too clever to be caught in Europe. It would be different at home. Well, the best thing to do is to grin and bear it, and forget the unpleasant incident as soon as possible, said Uncle John. I feel as if I'd had my pocket picked by my best friend, but it isn't nearly as disgraceful as being obliged to assist the thief by paying ransom money. The loss amounts to nothing to either of us, and such treachery, thank goodness, is rare in the world. We can't afford to let the thing make us unhappy, my friend, so cheer up all of you and don't dwell upon any more than you can help. They love Syracuse, a rather solemn group, in spite of this wise advice and journey back to Naples and then to Rome. There was much to see here, and they thought so energetically that when they boarded the train for Florence, they were all fagged at and could remember nothing clearly except the Colosseum and the Bass of Caricola. Florence was just now a bower of roses and very beautiful, but kind of flugged them to the galleries day after day until Uncle John declared he hated to look an old master in the face. After all, they're only dogs, he declared, or any 10-year-old boy in America can paint better pictures. Don't let anyone hear you say that, dear Caution Patsy. They'd think you don't know good art. But I do, he protested. If any of those pictures by old masters was used in a streetcar ad at home, it would be money wasted, for no one would look at them. The people wouldn't stand for it a minute. They're wonderful for the age in which they were painted, said Kenneth soberly. He must remember that we've had centuries in which to improve our art since then. Oh, I have proper respect for old age, I hope, replied Uncle John, but to fall down and worship a thing because it's gray-haired and out of date isn't just my style. All of those o's and a's over the old masters are rank humbug and I'm ashamed of the people that don't know better. And now Arthur Weldon was obliged to bid goodbye to Louise and her friends and take a train directly to Paris to catch the steamer for home. His attorney advised him that business demanded his immediate presence and he was obliged to return, however reluctantly. Kenneth and Mr. Watson also left the Part 8 Florence as the boy artist wished to remain there for a time to study the pictures that Uncle John so bitterly denounced. The others went on to Venice, which naturally proved to the nieces one of the most delightful places they had yet seen. Mr. Merrick loved it because he could ride in a gondola and rest his stubby legs, which had become wary with tramping through galleries and cathedrals. These last monuments, by the way, had grown to become the sort of nightmare to the little gentlemen. The girls were enthusiastic over cathedrals and allowed none to escape a visit for a time Uncle John had born up bravely, but the day of rebellion was soon coming. No cathedrals in Venice, I hope, he had settled their arrival. Oh yes, dear, the loveliest in the world, St. Mark's is here, you know. But no St. Paul's or St. Peter's? No, Uncle, there's this saluta and the never mind, we'll do that first one and then quit. What they build so many churches for, I can't imagine. Nobody goes to them but tourists, that I can see. He developed a streak of extravagance in Venice and purchased Venetian lace in Venetian glassware to such an extent that the nieces had to assure him that they were all supplied with enough to last them and their friends for all time to come. Major Doyle had asked for a Mirchand pipe and a Florentine leather pocket book, so Uncle John made a collection of 37 pipes of all shapes and sizes and bought so many pocket books that Patsy declared her father could use a different one every day in the month. But they're handy things to have, said her uncle, and we may not get to Europe again in a hurry. This was his excuse for purchasing many things, and it was only by reminding him of the duty you would have to pay in New York that the girls couldn't do some to desist. The customs tax worried the old gentlemen at times. For his trip he had always believed in a protective tariff, but now he referred to the United States customs as species of brigandage worse than that of Old Duce himself. They stopped at Milan to visit the great cathedral, and then raced through Spudsel and made a dash from Lucerne to Paris. Thank heaven, said Uncle John. There are no cathedrals in Gay Paris at any rate. Oh yes there are, they assured him. We must see Notre Dame, we must see Notre Dame anyway. And there are a dozen other famous cathedrals. Here's where Uncle John balked. See here, my dears, he announced. Not a cathedral will I visit from this time on. You can take a guide and go by yourselves if you feel you can't let any get away from you. Go and find another of Mike Angelo's last work. Every church has got one. For my part I've always been religiously inclined, but I've been to church enough lately to last me the rest of my natural life, and I'm fully determined not to darken the doors of another cathedral again. They're like circuses, anyhow. When you've seen one, you've seen them all. No argument would induce him to abandon this position, so the girls accepted his proposal and visited their beloved cathedrals in charge of a guide, whose well of information was practically inexhaustible if not remarkable for its clarity. The opera suited Uncle John better, and he freely reveled in the shops purchasing the most useless and preposterous things in spite of that growing bugbear of the customs duty. But finally this joyous holiday came to an end, as all good things will, and they sailed from Cherbourg for New York. Uncle John had six extra trunks, Patsey carried a French poodle that was as much trouble as an infant in arms, and Louise engineered several hat boxes that could not be packed at the last minute. But the girls embarked gay and rosy-cheeked and animated, and in spite of all the excitement and pleasure that had attended their trip, not one of the party was really sorry when the return voyage began. CHAPTER XXXI SAFE HOME To me, said Uncle John, as he stood on the deck and pointed proudly to the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, that is the prettiest sight I've seen since I left home. Prettier than the old masters, Uncle, asked Patsey mischievously. Yes, or the cathedrals, he retorted. When they reached the dock there was the major waiting to receive Patsey in a nude-checked suit with a big flower in his buttonhole, and a broad smile on his jolly face. And there was Mrs. Marrick too, with Arthur Weldon beside her, which proved to Louise that he had succeeded in making his peace with her mother. Also there were the stern featured, custom-house officials in their uniforms, and the sight of them sent the cold chills flying down Uncle John's spine. There was no one present to receive Patsey, but her uncle tucked her arm underneath his own with a proud gesture, and kept her clothes beside him. For the girl had quiet on his loving old heart on this trip, and she seemed to him more mature and far sweeter than when they had left home. But the greetings and the brigantage were soon over, and in a good time they were all assembled in the doiflet, where the joyous major had prepared an elaborate dinner to celebrate the return of the Wanderers. We have a million pipes and pocketbooks for you, Daddy, whispered Patsey, hugging him for the twentieth time. And I've got a thousand things to tell you about our adventures in strange lands. Say them till we're alone, said the Major. They are too good to waste on a crowd. Mr. Merrick was placed at the head of the table to make a speech. It was brief and to the point. I promised these young ladies to give them time of their lives, he said. Did I do it, girls? And in a lively chorus they answered, You did, Uncle John. End of CHAPTER XXXI. End of ON JANE JANE'S NECESS Broad by L. Frank Baum