AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
BY
EDITH VAN DYNE (one of L. Frank Baum's pen names)
1908
I UNCLE JOHN'S FARM
II
THE AGENT
III
_MILLVILLE HEARS EXCITING NEWS_
IV
ETHEL MAKES PREPARATION
V
THE ARRIVAL OF THE NABOBS
VI
PEGGY PRESENTS HIS BILL
VII
LOUISE SCENTS A MYSTERY
VIII
THE LITTLE SCHOOL-MA'AM
IX
THE "LIVES OF THE SAINTS"
X
THE MYSTERY DEEPENS
XI
THREE AMATEUR DETECTIVES
XII
THE BAITING OF PEGGY McNUTT
XIII
BOB WEST, HARDWARE DEALER
XIV
THE MAJOR IS PUZZLED
XV
THE MAN IN HIDING
XVI
A MATTER OF SPECULATION
XVII
JOE TELLS OF "THE GREAT TROUBLE"
XVIII
THE LOCKED CUPBOARD
XIX
THE COURT'N' OF SKIM CLARK
XX
A LOST CAUSE
XXI
THE TRAP IS SET
XXII
CAUGHT!
XXIII
MR. WEST EXPLAINS
XXIV
PEGGY HAS REVENGE
XXV
GOOD NEWS AT LAST
UNCLE JOHN'S FARM.
"How did I happen to own a farm?" asked Uncle John, interrupting his
soup long enough to fix an inquiring glance upon Major Doyle, who
sat opposite.
"By virtue of circumstance, my dear sir," replied the Major,
composedly.
"It's a part of my duty, in attending to those affairs you won't look
afther yourself, to lend certain sums of your money to needy and
ambitious young men who want a start in life."
"Oh, Uncle! Do you do that?" exclaimed Miss Patricia Doyle, who sat
between her uncle and father and kept an active eye upon both.
"So the Major says," answered Uncle John, dryly.
"And it's true," asserted the other. "He's assisted three or four
score
young men to start in business in the last year, to my certain
knowledge, by lending them sums ranging from one to three thousand
dollars. And it's the most wasteful and extravagant charity I ever
heard of."
"But I'm so glad!" cried Patsy, clapping her hands with a delighted
gesture. "It's a splendid way to do good--to help young men to get a
start in life. Without capital, you know, many a young fellow would
never get his foot on the first round of the ladder."
"And many will never get it there in any event," declared the Major,
with a shake of his grizzled head. "More than half the rascals that
John
helps go to the dogs entirely, and hang us up for all they've
borrowed."
"I told you to help _deserving_ young men," remarked Uncle John, with
a
scowl at his brother-in-law.
"And how can I tell whether they're desarving or not?" retorted Major
Doyle, fiercely. "Do ye want me to become a sleuth, or engage
detectives
to track the objects of your erroneous philanthropy? I just have to
form
a judgment an' take me chances; and whin a poor devil goes wrong I
charge your account with the loss."
"But some of them must succeed," ventured Patsy, in a conciliatory
tone.
"Some do," said John Merrick; "and that repays me for all my trouble."
"All _your_ throuble, sir?" queried the Major; "you mane all _my_
throuble--well, and your money. And a heap of throuble that confounded
farm has cost me, with one thing and another."
"What of it?" retorted the little round faced millionaire, leaning
back
in his chair and staring fixedly at the other. "That's what I employ
you for."
"Now, now, gentlemen!" cried Patsy, earnestly. "I'll have no business
conversation at the table. You know my rules well enough."
"This isn't business," asserted the Major.
"Of course not," agreed Uncle John, mildly. "No one has any business
owning a farm. How did it happen. Major?"
The old soldier had already forgotten his grievance. He quarreled
persistently with his wealthy employer and brother-in-law--whom he
fairly adored--to prevent the possibility (as he often confided to
Patsy) of his falling down and worshiping him. John Merrick was a
multi-millionaire, to be sure; but there were palliating circumstances
that almost excused him. He had been so busily occupied in industry
that
he never noticed how his wealth was piling up until he discovered it
by
accident. Then he promptly retired, "to give the other fellows a
chance," and he now devoted his life to simple acts of charity and the
welfare and entertainment of his three nieces. He had rescued Major
Doyle and his daughter from a lowly condition and placed the former in
the great banking house of Isham, Marvin & Company, where John
Merrick's
vast interests were protected and his income wisely managed. He had
given Patsy this cosy little apartment house at 3708 Willing Square
and
made his home with her, from which circumstance she had come to be
recognized as his favorite niece.
John Merrick was sixty years old. He was short, stout and
chubby-faced,
with snow-white hair, mild blue eyes and an invariably cheery smile.
Simple in his tastes, modest and retiring, lacking the education and
refinements of polite society, but shrewd and experienced in the
affairs
of the world, the little man found his greatest enjoyment in the
family
circle that he had been instrumental in founding. Being no longer
absorbed in business, he had come to detest its every detail, and so
allowed his bankers to care for his fortune and his brother-in-law to
disburse his income, while he himself strove to enjoy life in a shy
and
boyish fashion that was as unusual in a man of his wealth as it was
admirable. He had never married.
Patricia was the apple of Uncle John's eye, and the one goddess
enshrined in her doting father's heart. Glancing at her, as she sat
here
at table in her plain muslin gown, a stranger would be tempted to
wonder
why. She was red-haired, freckled as a robin's egg, pug-nosed and
wide-mouthed. But her blue eyes were beautiful, and they sparkled with
a
combination of saucy mischief and kindly consideration for others that
lent her face an indescribable charm.
Everyone loved Patsy Doyle, and people would gaze longer at her
smiling-lips and dancing eyes than upon many a more handsome but less
attractive face. She was nearly seventeen years old, not very tall,
and
her form, to speak charitably, was more neat than slender.
"A while ago," said the Major, resuming the conversation as he carved
the roast, "a young fellow came to me who had invented a new sort of
pump to inflate rubber tires. He wanted capital to patent the pump and
put it on the market. The thing looked pretty good, John; so I lent
him
a thousand of your money."
"Quite right," returned Uncle John, nodding.
"But pretty soon he came back with a sad tale. He was in a bad fix.
Another fellow was contesting his patent and fighting hard to head him
off. It would take a lot of money to fight back--three thousand, at
least. But he was decent about it, after all. His father had left him
a
little farm at Millville. He couldn't say what it was worth, but there
were sixty acres and some good buildings, and he would deed it to you
as
security if you would let him have three thousand more."
"So you took the farm and gave him the money?"
"I did, sir. Perhaps I am to blame; but I liked the young fellow's
looks. He was clean-cut and frank, and believed in his pump. I did
more.
At the climax of the struggle I gave another thousand, making five
thousand in all."
"Well?"
"It's gone, John; and you've got the farm. The other fellows were too
clever for my young friend, Joseph Wegg, and knocked out his patent."
"I'm so sorry!" said Patsy, sympathetically.
The Major coughed.
"It's not an unusual tale, my dear; especially when John advances the
money," he replied.
"What became of the young man?" asked the girl.
"He's a competent chauffeur, and so he went to work driving an
automobile."
"Where is Millville?" inquired Uncle John, thoughtfully.
"Somewhere at the north of the State, I believe."
"Have you investigated the farm at all?"
"I looked up a real estate dealer living at Millville, and wrote him
about the Wegg farm. He said if any one wanted the place very badly it
might sell for three thousand dollars."
"Humph!"
"But his best information was to the effect that no one wanted it at
all."
Patsy laughed.
"Poor Uncle John!" she said.
The little man, however, was serious. For a time he ate with great
deliberation and revolved an interesting thought in his mind.
"Years ago." said he, "I lived in a country town; and I love the smell
of the meadows and the hum of the bees in the orchards. Any orchards
at
my farm, Major?"
"Don't know, sir."
"Pretty soon," continued Uncle John, "it's going to be dreadfully hot
in
New York, and we'll have to get away."
"Seashore's the place," remarked the Major. "Atlantic City, or
Swampscott, or--"
"Rubbish!" growled the other man, impatiently. "The girls and I have
just come from Europe. We've had enough sea to last us all _this_
season, at least. What we pine for is country life--pure milk, apple
trees and new mown hay."
"We, Uncle?" said Patsy.
"Yes, my dear. A couple of months on the farm will do all of my nieces
good. Beth is still with Louise, you know, and they must find the city
deadly dull, just now. The farm's the thing. And the Major can run up
to
see us for a couple of weeks in the hot weather, and we'll all have a
glorious, lazy time."
"And we can take Mary along to do the cooking," suggested Patsy,
entering into the idea enthusiastically.
"And eat in our shirt-sleeves!" said Uncle John, with a glowing face.
"And have a cow and some pigs!" cried the girl.
"Pah!" said the Major, scornfully. "You talk as if it were a real
farm,
instead of a place no one would have as a gift."
Uncle John looked sober again.
"Anyone live on the place, Major?" he inquired.
"I believe not. It's gone to ruin and decay the last few years."
"But it could be put into shape?"
"Perhaps so; at an expense that will add to your loss."
"Never mind that."
"If you want farm life, why don't you rent a respectable farm?"
demanded
the Major.
"No; this is my farm. I own it, and it's my bounded duty to live on
it,"
said Uncle John, stubbornly. "Write to that real estate fellow at
Millville tomorrow and tell him to have the place fixed up and put
into
ship-shape order as quickly as possible. Tell him to buy some cows and
pigs and chickens, and hire a man to look after them. Also a horse and
buggy, some saddle horses----"
"Go slow, John. Don't leave such a job to a country real estate
dealer.
If I remember right the fellow wrote like a blacksmith. If you want
horses and rigs, let Hutchinson send you down the right sort, with an
experienced groom and stable hands. But I'm not sure there will be a
place to put them."
"Oh, Uncle!" exclaimed Patsy; "don't let us have all those luxuries.
Let
us live a simple life on the farm, and not degrade its charms by
adding
city fixin's. The cow and the chickens are all right, but let's cut
out
the horses until we get there. Don't you know, dear, that a big
establishment means lots of servants, and servants mean worry and
strife? I want to let down the bars for the cow when she moos, and
milk
her myself."
"It takes a skilled mechanic to milk a cow," objected the Major.
"But Patsy's right!" cried her uncle, with conviction. "We don't want
any frills at all. Just tell your man, Major, to put the place into
good
living condition."
"Patrichia," softly remarked the Major, with an admiring glance at his
small daughter, "has more sinse in her frizzled head than both of us
put
together."
"If she hadn't more than you," retorted Uncle John, with a grin, "I'd
put a candle inside her noodle and call her a Jack-Lantern."
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AT MILLVILLE
Continued....
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