AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
CHAPTER XX
ON POINT LOMA
Next morning a beautiful bunch of roses was brought
to Myrtle's
room--roses so magnificent that it seemed impossible
they could be
grown out of doors. But there are few hothouses in
California, and the
boy who brought the flowers confided to her the
information that they
were selected from more than five hundred blooms.
She ran to show them
to Patsy and Beth, who were amazed not only by the
roses but by the
fact that the queer Mr. Jones had sent them to
Myrtle. There was no
card or note accompanying the gift, but after the
younger girl had
related her conversation with Mr. Jones the previous
evening, they
could not doubt but he had sent the flowers.
"Perhaps," reflected Patsy, "we've been misjudging
him. I never beheld
such a stolid, unimpressive countenance in my life;
but the man must
have a soul of some sort, or he would not think of
sending flowers to
his new friend."
"It's a pretty idea," said Beth. "He wanted to
assure Myrtle that he
appreciated her kindness."
"I'm sure he likes me," declared Myrtle, simply. "He
wasn't a bit
cross when I ran in and took away his pistol, or
when I preached to
him. I really gave him a good talking to, and he
didn't object a bit."
"What he needs," commented Beth, "is to get away
from himself, and
mingle with people more. I wonder if we could coax
him to join us in
our ride to Point Loma."
"Would we care to ask him?" said Patsy. "He's as
sour and crabbed in
looks as he is in disposition, and has treated Uncle
John's advances
shamefully. I'd like to help Myrtle bring the old
fellow back to life;
but perhaps we can find an easier way than to shut
him up with us in
an automobile."
"He wouldn't go, I'm sure," declared Myrtle. "He has
mellowed a
little--a very little--as these roses prove. But he
treated me last
night just as he does Mr. Merrick, even after our
conversation. When
I said 'Good night' I had to wait a long time for
his answer. But I'd
like you to meet him and help cheer him up; so
please let me introduce
him, if there's a chance, and do be nice to him."
"I declare," cried Patsy, laughing, "Myrtle has
assumed an air of
proprietorship over the Sad One already."
"She has a right to, for she saved his life," said
Beth.
"Three times," Myrtle added proudly. "He told me so
himself."
Uncle John heard the story of Myrtle's adventure
with considerable
surprise, and he too expressed a wish to aid her in
winning Mr. Jones
from his melancholy mood.
"Every man is queer in one way or another," said he,
"and I'd say the
women were, too, if you females were not listening.
I also imagine a
very rich man has the right to be eccentric, if it
pleases him."
"Is Mr. Jones rich, then?" inquired Beth.
"According to the landlord he's rich as Croesus.
Made his money in
mining--manipulating stocks, I suppose. But
evidently his wealth
hasn't been a comfort to him, or he wouldn't want to
shuffle off his
mortal coil and leave it behind"
They did not see the object of this conversation
before leaving for
the trip to Point Loma--a promontory that juts out
far into the
Pacific. It is reached by a superb macadamized
boulevard, which passes
down the north edge of the promontory, rounds the
corner where stands
the lighthouse, and comes back along the southern
edge, all the time a
hundred feet or more in elevation above the ocean.
The view from the Point is unsurpassed. Wampus
stopped his car beside
a handsomely appointed automobile that was just then
deserted.
"Some one is here before us," remarked Patsy. "But
that is not
strange. The wonder is that crowds are not here
perpetually."
"It is said," related the Major, who had really
begun to enjoy
California, "that the view from this Point includes
more varied
scenery than any other that is known in the world.
Here we see the
grand San Bernardino range of mountains; the Spanish
Bight on the
Mexican shore; the pretty city of San Diego climbing
its hills, with
the placid bay in front, where float the warships of
the Pacific
Squadron; the broad stretch of orange and lemon
groves, hedged with
towering palm trees; Santa Catalina and the Coronado
Islands; the blue
Pacific rolling in front and rugged Loma with its
rocky cliffs behind.
What more could we ask to see from any one
viewpoint?"
"Don't forget the monster hotel, with its hundred
towers and gables,
dominating the strip of land between the bay and the
ocean," added
Beth. "How near it seems, and yet it is many miles
away."
Some one had told them that moonstones were to be
found on the beach
at the base of the cliff; so they all climbed down
the steep path,
followed by Mumbles, who had not perceptibly grown
in size during the
trip but had acquired an adventurous disposition
which, coupled with
his native inquisitiveness, frequently led him into
trouble.
Now, when they had reached the narrow beach, Mumbles
ran ahead, passed
around the corner of a cliff that almost touched the
water, and was
presently heard barking furiously.
"Sounds as if he scented game," said Patsy.
"A turtle, perhaps, or a big fish washed ashore,"
suggested the Major.
But now the small dog's voice changed suddenly and
became a succession
of yelps expressing mingled pain and terror.
"Oh, he's hurt!" cried Myrtle; and they all hurried
forward, Uncle
John leading them on a run, and passed around the
big rock to rescue
their pet.
Some one was before them, however. The foolish dog
had found a huge
crab in the sand and, barking loudly, had pushed his
muzzle against
the creature, with the result that the crab seized
his black nose in
a gripping claw and pinched as hard as it was able.
Mumbles tried to
back away, madly howling the while; but the crab,
although the smaller
antagonist, gripped a rock with its other claw and
held on, anchoring
the terrified dog to the spot.
But help was at hand. A tall, thin man hurried to
the rescue, and just
as Uncle John came in sight, leading his procession,
a knife severed
the crab's claw and Mumbles was free. Seeing his
mistress, the puppy,
still whining with pain, hurried to her for comfort,
while Uncle John
turned to the man and said:
"Thank you, Mr. Jones, for assisting our poor beast.
Mumbles is an
Eastern dog, you know, and inexperienced in dealing
with crabs."
Mr. Jones was examining the claw, the despoiled
owner of which had
quickly slid into the water.
"It is a species of crawfish," he observed,
meditatively. Then, seeing
the girls approach, he straightened up and rather
awkwardly lifted his
hat.
The gesture surprised them all. Heretofore, when
they had met, the man
had merely stared and turned away, now his attempt
at courtesy was
startling because unexpected.
Myrtle came close to his side.
"How nice to find you here, Mr. Jones," she said
brightly. "And oh, I
must thank you for my lovely roses."
He watched her face with evident interest and it
seemed that his own
countenance had become less haggard and sad than
formerly.
"Let me introduce my friends," said the girl, with
sudden recollection
of her duty. "This is Mr. Merrick, my good friend
and benefactor; and
this is Major Doyle and his daughter Miss Patricia
Doyle, both of whom
have the kindest hearts in the world; Miss Beth De
Graf, Mr. Merrick's
niece, has watched over and cared for me like a
sister, and--oh, I
forgot; Miss Patsy is Mr. Merrick's niece, too. So
now you know them
all."
The man nodded briefly his acknowledgment.
"You--you are Mr. Jones, I believe, of--of Boston?"
"Once of Boston," he repeated mechanically. Then he
looked at her and
added: "Go on."
"Why--what--I don't understand," she faltered. "Have
I overlooked
anyone?"
"Only yourself," he said.
"Oh; but I--I met you last night."
"You did not tell me your name," he reminded her.
"I'm Myrtle," she replied, smiling in her relief.
"Myrtle Dean."
"Myrtle Dean!" His voice was harsh; almost a shout.
"Myrtle Dean. And I--I'm from Chicago; but I don't
live there any
more."
He stood motionless, looking at the girl with a
fixed expression that
embarrassed her and caused her to glance appealingly
at Patsy. Her
friend understood and came to her rescue with some
inconsequent remark
about poor Mumbles, who was still moaning and
rubbing; his pinched
nose against Patsy's chin to ease the pain.
Mr. Jones paid little heed to Miss Doyle's
observation, but as Myrtle
tried to hide behind Beth Mr. Merrick took the
situation in hand by
drawing the man's attention to the scenery, and
afterward inquiring if
he was searching for moonstones.
The conversation now became general, except that Mr.
Jones remained
practically silent He seemed to try to interest
himself in the chatter
around him, but always his eyes would stray to
Myrtle's face and hold
her until she found an opportunity to turn away.
"We've luncheon in the car," announced Uncle John,
after a time.
"Won't you join us, Mr. Jones?"
"Yes," was the unconventional reply. The man was
undoubtedly
abstracted and did not know he was rude. He quietly
followed them up
the rocks and when they reached the automobile
remained by Myrtle's
side while Wampus brought out the lunch basket and
Beth and Patsy
spread the cloth upon the grass and unpacked the
hamper.
Mr. Jones ate merely a mouthful, but he evidently
endeavored to follow
the conversation and take an interest in what was
said. He finally
became conscious that his continuous gaze distressed
Myrtle, and
thereafter strove to keep his eyes from her face.
They would creep
back to it, from time to time; but Beth, who was
watching him
curiously, concluded he was making a serious effort
to deport himself
agreeably and credited him with a decided
improvement in manners as
their acquaintance with him progressed.
After luncheon, when their return by way of Old Town
and the Spanish
Mission was proposed, Mr. Jones said, pointing to
the car that stood
beside their own:
"This is my automobile. I drive it myself. I would
like Myrtle Dean to
ride back with me."
The girl hesitated, but quickly deciding she must
not retreat, now she
had practically begun the misanthrope's reformation,
she replied:
"I will be very glad to. But won't you take one of
my friends, also?
That will divide the party more evenly."
He looked down at his feet, thoughtfully considering
the proposition.
"I'll go with you," said Beth, promptly. "Get into
the front seat with
Mr. Jones, Myrtle, and I'll ride behind."
The man made no protest. He merely lifted Myrtle in
his arms and
gently placed her in the front seat. Beth, much
amused, took the seat
behind, unassisted save that the Major opened the
door for her. Mr.
Jones evidently understood his car. Starting the
engines without
effort he took his place at the wheel and with a nod
to Mr. Merrick
said:
"Lead on, sir; I will follow."
Wampus started away. He was displeased with the
other car. It did
not suit him at all. And aside from the fact that
the sour-faced
individual who owned it had taken away two of
Wampus' own passengers,
the small shaggy Mumbles, who had been the
established companion of
Uncle John's chauffeur throughout all the long
journey, suddenly
deserted him. He whined to go with the other car,
and when Patsy
lifted him aboard he curled down beside the stranger
as if thoroughly
satisfied. Patsy knew why, and was amused that
Mumbles showed his
gratitude to Mr. Jones for rescuing him from the
crab; but Wampus
scowled and was distinctly unhappy all the way to
Old Town.
"Him mebbe fine gentleman," muttered the Canadian to
the Major; "but
if so he make a disguise of it. Once I knew a dog
thief who resemble
him; but perhaps Mumble he safe as long as Miss
Myrtle an' Miss Beth
they with him."
"Don't worry," said the Major, consolingly. "I'll
keep my eye on the
rascal. But he's a fine driver, isn't he?"
"Oh, _that_!" retorted Wampus, scornfully. "Such
little cheap car like
that he drive himself."
At Old Town Mr. Jones left them, saying he had been
to the Mission and
did not care for it. But as he drove his car away
there was a gentler
and more kindly expression upon his features than
any of them had ever
seen there before, and Myrtle suspected her charm
was working and the
regeneration really begun.
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
 
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