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Authors: Aunt Jane's Nieces

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"It's a letter," said the major. "It came yesterday, or mayhap the day
before. I don't just remember."

"A letter! And who from?" she cried, surprised.

"An ould vixen."

"And who may that be?"

"Your mother's sister Jane. I can tell by the emblem on the flap of
the envelope," said he, drawing a crumpled paper from his breast
pocket.

"Oh,
that
person," said Patsy, with scorn. "Whatever induced her to
write to
me?
" "You might read it and find out," suggested the major.

Patricia tore open the envelope and scanned the letter. Her eyes
blazed.

"What is it, Mavoureen?"

"An insult!" she answered, crushing the paper in her hand and then
stuffing it into the pocket of her dress. "Light your pipe, daddy,
dear. Here—I'll strike the match."

Chapter IV - Louise Makes a Discovery
*

"How did you enjoy the reception, Louise?"

"Very well, mamma. But I made the discovery that my escort. Harry
Wyndham, is only a poor cousin of the rich Wyndham family, and will
never have a penny he doesn't earn himself."

"I knew that," said Mrs. Merrick. "But Harry has the entree into some
very exclusive social circles. I hope you treated him nicely, Louise.
He can be of use to us."

"Oh, yes, I think I interested him; but he's a very stupid boy. By the
way, mamma, I had an adventure last evening, which I have had no time
to tell you of before."

"Yes?"

"It has given me quite a shock. You noticed the maid you ordered to
come from Madam Borne to dress my hair for the reception?"

"I merely saw her. Was she unsatisfactory?"

"She was very clever. I never looked prettier, I am sure. The maid is
a little, demure thing, very young for such a position, and positively
homely and common in appearance. But I hardly noticed her until she
dropped a letter from her clothing. It fell just beside me, and I saw
that it was addressed to no less a personage than my rich aunt, Miss
Jane Merrick, at Elmhurst. Curious to know why a hair-dresser should
be in correspondence with Aunt Jane, I managed to conceal the letter
under my skirts until the maid was gone. Then I put it away until
after the reception. It was sealed and stamped, all ready for the
post, but I moistened the flap and easily opened it. Guess what I
read?"

"I've no idea," replied Mrs. Merrick.

"Here it is," continued Louise, producing a letter and carefully
unfolding it. "Listen to this, if you please: 'Aunt Jane.' She doesn't
even say 'dear' or 'respected,' you observe."

'Your letter to me, asking me to visit you, is almost an insult
after your years of silence and neglect and your refusals to assist
my poor mother when she was in need. Thank God we can do without
your friendship and assistance now, for my honored father, Major
Gregory Doyle, is very prosperous and earns all we need. I return your
check with my compliments. If you are really ill, I am sorry for you,
and would go to nurse you were you not able to hire twenty nurses,
each of whom would have fully as much love and far more respect for
you than could ever

'Your indignant niece,

'Patricia Doyle.'

"What do you think of that, mamma?'"

"It's very strange, Louise. This hair-dresser is your own cousin."

"So it seems. And she must be poor, or she wouldn't go out as a sort
of lady's maid. I remember scolding her severely for pulling my hair
at one time, and she was as meek as Moses, and never answered a word."

"She has a temper though, as this letter proves," said Mrs. Merrick;
"and I admire her for the stand she has taken."

"So do I," rejoined Louise with a laugh, "for it removes a rival from
my path. You will notice that Aunt Jane has sent her a check for the
same amount she sent me. Here it is, folded in the letter. Probably my
other cousin, the De Graf girl, is likewise invited to Elmhurst? Aunt
Jane wanted us all, to see what we were like, and perhaps to choose
between us."

"Quite likely," said Mrs. Merrick, uneasily watching her daughter's
face.

"That being the case," continued Louise, "I intend to enter the
competition. With this child Patricia out of the way, it will be a
simple duel with my unknown De Graf cousin for my aunt's favor, and
the excitement will be agreeable even if I am worsted."

"There's no danger of that," said her mother, calmly. "And the stakes
are high, Louise. I've learned that your Aunt Jane is rated as worth a
half million dollars."

"They shall be mine," said the daughter, with assurance. "Unless,
indeed, the De Graf girl is most wonderfully clever. What is her
name?"

"Elizabeth, if I remember rightly. But I am not sure she is yet alive,
my dear. I haven't heard of the De Grafs for a dozen years.'"

"Anyway I shall accept my Aunt Jane's invitation, and make the
acceptance as sweet as Patricia Doyle's refusal is sour. Aunt Jane
will be simply furious when she gets the little hair-dresser's note."

"Will you send it on?"

"Why not? It's only a question of resealing the envelope and mailing
it. And it will be sure to settle Miss Doyle's chances of sharing the
inheritance, for good and all."

"And the check?"

"Oh, I shall leave the check inside the envelope. It wouldn't be at
all safe to cash it, you know."

"But if you took it out Jane would think the girl had kept tit money,
after all, and would be even more incensed against her."

"No," said Louise, after a moment's thought, "I'll not do a single act
of dishonesty that could ever by any chance be traced to my door. To
be cunning, to be diplomatic, to play the game of life with the best
cards we can draw, is every woman's privilege. But if I can't win
honestly, mater dear, I'll quit the game, for even money can't
compensate a girl for the loss of her self-respect."

Mrs. Merrick cast a fleeting glance at her daughter and smiled.
Perhaps the heroics of Louise did not greatly impress her.

Chapter V - Aunt Jane
*

"Lift me up, Phibbs—no, not that way! Confound your awkwardness—do
you want to break my back? There! That's better. Now the pillow at my
head. Oh—h. What are you blinking at, you old owl?"

"Are you better this morning, Miss Jane?" asked the attendant, with
grave deference.

"No; I'm worse."

"You look brighter, Miss Jane."

"Don't be stupid, Martha Phibbs. I know how I am, better than any
doctor, and I tell you I'm on my last legs."

"Anything unusual, Miss?"

"Of course. I can't be on my last legs regularly, can I?"

"I hope not, Miss."

"What do you mean by that? Are you trying to insult me, now that I'm
weak and helpless? Answer me, you gibbering idiot!"

"I'm sure you'll feel better soon, Miss. Can't I wheel you into the
garden? It's a beautiful day, and quite sunny and warm already."

"Be quick about it, then; and don't tire me out with your eternal
doddering. When a thing has to be done, do it. That's my motto."

"Yes, Miss Jane."

Slowly and with care the old attendant wheeled her mistress's invalid
chair through the doorway of the room, along a stately passage,
and out upon a broad piazza at the back of the mansion. Here were
extensive and carefully tended gardens, and the balmy morning air was
redolent with the odor of flowers.

Jane Merrick sniffed the fragrance with evident enjoyment, and her
sharp grey eyes sparkled as she allowed them to roam over the gorgeous
expanse of colors spread out before her.

"I'll go down, I guess, Phibbs. This may be my last day on earth,
and I'll spend an hour with my flowers before I bid them good-bye
forever."

Phibbs pulled a bell-cord, and a soft faraway jingle was heard. Then
an old man came slowly around the corner of the house. His bare
head was quite bald. He wore a short canvas apron and carried
pruning-shears in one hand. Without a word of greeting to his mistress
or scarce a glance at her half recumbent form, he mounted the steps of
the piazza and assisted Phibbs to lift the chair to the ground.

"How are the roses coming on, James?"

"Poorly, Miss," he answered, and turning his back returned to his work
around the corner. If he was surly, Miss Jane seemed not to mind it.
Her glance even softened a moment as she followed his retreating form.

But now she was revelling amongst the flowers, which she seemed to
love passionately. Phibbs wheeled her slowly along the narrow paths
between the beds, and she stopped frequently to fondle a blossom or
pull away a dead leaf or twig from a bush. The roses were magnificent,
in spite of the old gardener's croaking, and the sun was warm and
grateful and the hum of the bees musical and sweet.

"It's hard to die and leave all this, Phibbs," said the old woman, a
catch in her voice. "But it's got to be done."

"Not for a while yet, I hope, Miss Jane."

"It won't be long, Phibbs. But I must try to live until my nieces
come, and I can decide which of them is most worthy to care for the
old place when I am gone."

"Yes, Miss."

"I've heard from two of them, already. They jumped at the bait I held
out quickly enough; but that's only natural. And the letters are very
sensible ones, too. Elizabeth DeGraf says she will be glad to come,
and thanks me for inviting her. Louise Merrick is glad to come, also,
but hopes I am deceived about my health and that she will make me more
than one visit after we become friends. A very proper feeling; but I'm
not deceived, Phibbs. My end's in plain sight."

"Yes, Miss Jane."

"And somebody's got to have my money and dear Elmhurst when I'm
through with them. Who will it be, Phibbs?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Miss."

"Nor do I. The money's mine, and I can do what I please with it; and
I'm under no obligation to anyone."

"Except Kenneth," said a soft voice behind her.

Jane Merrick gave a start at the interruption and turned red and angry
as, without looking around, she answered:

"Stuff and nonsense! I know my duties and my business, Silas Watson."

"To be sure," said a little, withered man, passing around the chair
and facing the old woman with an humble, deprecating air. He was
clothed in black, and his smooth-shaven, deeply lined face was
pleasant of expression and not without power and shrewd intelligence.
The eyes, however, were concealed by heavy-rimmed spectacles, and his
manner was somewhat shy and reserved. However, he did not hesitate to
speak frankly to his old friend, nor minded in the least if he aroused
her ire.

"No one knows better than you, dear Miss Jane, her duties and
obligations; and no one performs them more religiously. But your
recent acts, I confess, puzzle me. Why should you choose from a lot
of inexperienced, incompetent girls a successor to Thomas Bradley's
fortune, when he especially requested you in his will to look after
any of his relatives, should they need assistance? Kenneth Forbes, his
own nephew, was born after Tom's death, to be sure; but he is alone in
the world now, an orphan, and has had no advantages to help him along
in life since his mother's death eight years ago. I think Tom Bradley
must have had a premonition of what was to come even though his sister
was not married at the time of his death, and I am sure he would want
you to help Kenneth now."

"He placed me under no obligations to leave the boy any money,"
snapped the old woman, white with suppressed wrath, "you know that
well enough, Silas Watson, for you drew up the will."

The old gentleman slowly drew a pattern upon the gravelled walk with
the end of his walking-stick.

"Yes, I drew up the will," he said, deliberately, "and I remember that
he gave to you, his betrothed bride, all that he possessed—gave it
gladly and lovingly, and without reserve. He was very fond of you,
Miss Jane. But perhaps his conscience pricked him a bit, after all,
for he added the words: 'I shall expect you to look after the welfare
of my only relative, my sister. Katherine Bradley—or any of her
heirs.' It appears to me, Miss Jane, that that is a distinct
obligation. The boy is now sixteen and as fine a fellow as one often
meets."

"Bah! An imbecile—an awkward, ill-mannered brat who is only fit for a
stable-boy! I know him, Silas, and I know he'll never amount to a hill
of beans. Leave
him
my money? Not if I hadn't a relative on earth!"

"You misjudge him, Jane. Kenneth is all right if you'll treat him
decently. But he won't stand your abuse and I don't think the less of
him for that."

"Why abuse? Haven't I given him a home and an education, all because
Thomas asked me to look after his relatives? And he's been rebellious
and pig-headed and sullen in return for my kindness, so naturally
there's little love lost between us."

"You resented your one obligation, Jane; and although you fulfilled it
to the letter you did not in the spirit of Tom Bradley's request. I
don't blame the boy for not liking you."

"Sir!"

"All right, Jane; fly at me if you will," said the little man, with a
smile; "but I intend to tell you frankly what I think of your actions,
just as long as we remain friends."

Her stern brows unbent a trifle.

"That's why we are friends, Silas; and it's useless to quarrel with
you now that I'm on my last legs. A few days more will end me, I'm
positive; so bear with me a little longer, my friend."

He took her withered hand in his and kissed it gently.

"You're not so very bad, Jane," said he, "and I'm almost sure you
will be with us for a long time to come. But you're more nervous and
irritable than usual, I'll admit, and I fear this invasion of your
nieces won't be good for you. Are they really coming?"

"Two of them are, I'm sure, for they've accepted my invitation," she
replied.

"Here's a letter that just arrived," he said, taking it from his
pocket. "Perhaps it contains news from the third niece."

BOOK: L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 01
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