L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 01 (20 page)

"So they do!" cried Patsy, greatly delighted.

"And this room," continued the Major, passing into the next, "will 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!"

"Cigars, too," said Patsy, opening a little cabinet; "but 'twill be a
shame to smoke in this palace."

"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?" enquired 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've a little room beyond the kitchen. Didn't you see it, Miss
Patricia?"

"No, Mary."

"Anything more at present, Miss Patricia?"

"No, Mary."

The maid bowed again, and disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving an
awe-struck 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've half a mind to join her myself."

But he didn't. He followed Uncle John into the tatter'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 bye 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."

"Ex—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 'em 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."

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 near by, and he soon found the 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 enquiringly.

"Are the ladies in?" he asked.

"I'll see. Your card, sir?"

"I haven't any."

She half 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 through 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 enquired.

"Your 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 in 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 a sofa in her living-room, the past
week."

"I advise you to stay with the Doyles," said Mrs. Merrick, quickly.
"We haven't even a sofa to offer you here, our flat is so small;
otherwise we 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 principal 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 fates
decide. Do you understand the situation?"

"Perfectly. It's very simple," said 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 Doyles are
hard-working folks, and very poor. Beth says that Professor De Graf is
over head and ears in debt and earns less every year, so he can't be
counted upon. In all the Merrick 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.
Some day 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 Doyles. 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?"

Louise seemed surprised.

"You are old and seemed to be without means," she answered, "and that
five thousand Aunt Jane 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
am 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
Louise 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."

"Good bye, Uncle," exclaimed Louise, 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.

Louise 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 Louise decided to glance over the rail to discover if the
young gentleman she so eagerly awaited chanced to be in sight.

As she did so Mr. Isham cried in great excitement:

"There he is, Myra—that's him!" and pointed toward the sidewalk.

"Whom?" enquired Mrs. 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. Isn't he a queer looking fellow? And dresses like a tramp. But
he's worth from eighty to ninety millions, at least, and controls most
of the canning and tin-plate industries of America. I wonder what
brought him into this neighborhood?"

Louise 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 good-bye
to my rich uncle, John Merrick, of Portland, who has just called."

"John Merrick, the tin-plate magnate? Is he your uncle?"

"My father's own brother," she answered, gaily. "Come upstairs,
please. Mother will be glad to see you!"

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, which is less than half price. 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 'em 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 Borne 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 you're me own daughter,
Patricia, though a Merrick 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?"