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 as 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 awaiting the advent of a new master or mistress. It did not seem clear to them yet whether Miss Patricia or Lawyer Watson was to take charge of Elmhurst: but there were few tears 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' 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 his 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 an humble home. Louise and Beth, having at last full knowledge of their cousin's desire to increase their bequests, were openly very grateful for her good will; 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 canvass 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 she would be home in three days, and then she went to bed and slept peacefully.
After breakfast they were all again 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' room, his story of the death of Thomas Bradley, and the subsequent finding of the will.
"This will, which has just been recovered," continued the lawyer, impressively, "was made subsequent to the one under which Jane Merrick inherited, and therefore supercedes it. Miss Jane had, as you perceive, a perfect right to the use of the estate during her lifetime, but no right whatever to will a penny of it to anyone. 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-by to my five thousand," said Uncle John, with his chuckling laugh. "But I'm 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 how 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 sat 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," said she. "We're no worse off than before we came, are we? And we've had a nice vacation. Let's forget all 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!" she cried. "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 arousing 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 atElmhurst, 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 extra room to keep a cat. But we shall be glad to assist Uncle John as far as we are able."
"Father can hardly support his own family," said the other; "but I will talk to my mother about Uncle John when I get home, and see what she says."
"Oh, you don't need to, indeed!" cried Patsy, in great indignation. "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 and to spare, Uncle," turning to him and clasping his hand, "and a joyful welcome into the bargain. 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!"
Uncle John's eyes were moist. He looked on Patsy most affectionately and cast a wink at Lawyer Watson, who stood silently by.
"Thank you, my dear," said he; "but where's the money to come from?"
"Money? Bah!" she said. "Doesn't the Major earn a heap with his bookkeeping, and haven't I had a raise lately? Why, we'll be as 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 travelled 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 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 good will. 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. And 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 put 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, wouldn't we, for a time?"
"Of course. Do you want to visit New York especially?"
"Yes."
"It's rather a stupid city," said the lawyer, doubtfully.
"That may be," answered the boy. "But Patsy will be there, you know."
The Major was at the 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 an hour sooner.
The girl caught sight of him outside the gates, his face red and beaming as a poppy in bloom and his snowy moustache 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 bye and bye 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 has 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 smile.
They boarded a car for the long ride up town, and as soon as they were seated Patsy demanded the story of the 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 me best coat, and he give me a bottle of whiskey that would make a teetotaler roll his eyes in ecstacy. 'Twas 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 nickle, Dad. 'Twas 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 as not the money would be the ruination of us all. Eh, 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 grave but his eyes merry.
"Oh, Major!" cried Patsy, suddenly. "There's Danny Reeves's 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 redCalifornia wine for Uncle John and the Major, and two real cigars.We'll be merry 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 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 rag-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 second-hand 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 wails were a few colored prints from the Sunday newspapers 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 gray hair with a reflective and half puzzled gesture.
"It's cozy enough, my child; and I thank you for my welcome," said he. "But may I enquire 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 dear Colonel's own picture looking down at you to keep you safe and give you happy dreams. Where, indeed!"
"Ah; 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 apartments 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 down town, where we work, and then dine at Danny Reeves's place. A model home, sir, and a happy one, as I hope you'll find it."
"I'm sure to 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 the Uncle do all the 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 much work, you know, for the Uncle is 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. There'll easy be enough for all, with the Major's wages and my own."
"By the bye," 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 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 the 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 the job."
Uncle John laughed and drew his chair up to the table. Then he emptied his trousers' pockets upon the cloth, and Patsy gravely separated the keys and 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 ten and one five dollar bills, all crisp and new.
"Good gracious!" she cried, delightedly. "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 her 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 Bull 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 it 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 money in the bank of Patsy & Company, Limited," announced the Major. "You ought to be very contented, sir."
"I am," replied Uncle John.
When Patsy and the 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 Patsey might think him extravagant if she found him so soon breaking into the working fund of forty-two cents, which she charged him to be careful of.
He seemed to be in no hurry, for it was early yet, and 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 brought some hot buns from a near-by 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 his slender store for the refreshment. With five cents for car-fare he had now but twelve cents left of the forty-two Patsy had given him! Talk about the Major'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 & Co., Bankers and Brokers." A prosperous looking place, it seemed, with a host of clerks busily working in the 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, watching the customers who entered the bank or departed, and 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 enquired, sharply.
"An hour ago," was the reply.
"Then why didn't you let me know? I want to see him."
"He's 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 countryfied air. But something in the angry glance of the shrewd eye made him fear he had made a mistake. He opened a small door and disappeared.
In a moment the door burst open to allow egress to a big, red-bearded man in his shirtsleeves, 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 honored to see you here. Come to my room at once. A great surprise and pleasure, sir! Thomas, I'm engaged!"
This last was directed at the head of the amazed porter, who, as the door slammed in his face, nodded solemnly and remarked:
"Fooled ag'in, and I might 'a' known it. Drat these 'ere billionaires!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 rode 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 honored."
Yet Uncle John seemed in no way elated by this reception. He retained his simple manner, although his face was more grave than Patsy had often seen it; and he talked with easy familiarity of preferred stocks and amalgamated interests and invested, securities and many other queer things that the banker seemed to understand fully and to listen to with respectful deference.
Then they returned to the bank for another long session together, and there was 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 into the bank as quiet like 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 in readiness for Mr. Merrick's service.
But Uncle John waived it aside disdainfully.
"I'll walk," he said. "There are some other errands to attend to."
So they shook his hand and reminded him of a future appointment and let him go his 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 bye he bethought himself of the time, and took a cab uptown. He had more than the twelve cents in his pocket, now, besides the check book 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 toward Danny Reeves'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 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 withPatsy's father. "Have you had a good day?"
"Fine," said the Major. "They'd 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 wheedled the firm into giving me a vacation, and now they're 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 onto 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 a napkin 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 labors, and afterward related to them the sights he had seen in the shop windows. Of course he could not eat much after the feast he had had at luncheon, and this disturbed Patsy a little. She insisted he was tired, and carried her men away to the tenement rooms as soon as possible, where she installed them at the table to play cribbage until bed-time.
The next day Uncle John seemed to be busy enough, although of course Patsy could not know what he was doing. He visited a real-estate office, for one thing, and then telephoned Isham, Marvin & Co. and issued a string of orders in a voice not nearly so meek and mild as it was when he was in Patsy's presence. Whatever he had undertaken required time, for all during the week he left the tenement directly the Major and his 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, then, and 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 a wave of his hand.
"But my dinners at Danny Reeves' place must cost a lot," protestedUncle John.
"Surely not; Patsy has managed all that for a trifle, and the pleasure of your company more than repays us for the bit of expense."
On Saturday night 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've bought them already, three for a nickle. 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. Heigho! butSunday's a great day for folks that work."
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 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 egg-shells 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 poorhouse 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. Then the boy was gone, and she came back slowly to the breakfast table, with the 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 & Co."
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 andstared blankly at her father. The Major stared back. So did UncleJohn, 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 & Co., 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 letter-head 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 and 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 drug store, 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 this all 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 enquired:
"Is this 3708 Willing Square?"
"Yes, Miss," answered the porter; "are you Miss Doyle?"
"I am," she answered, surprised.
"One flight up, Miss, and turn 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 upon the mantel. The dining-room was a picture, indeed, with stained-glass windows casting their soft lights through the draperies and the side-board 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 store-room 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 ahemmed continually; Patsy ah'd and oh'd 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 cushion spell'Patricia,' don't they?"
"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 theMajor'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, MissPatricia?"
"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 tearswouldcome 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 UncleJohn.
"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, soI'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!"