L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 06 (18 page)

Uncle John, now thoroughly interested and sympathetic, leaned over and
said solemnly:

"The hand of God was in that!"

Mr. Jones nodded.

"I am beginning to believe it," he replied. "The girl's face won me
even in that despairing mood. She has Kitty's eyes."

"They are beautiful eyes," said Uncle John, earnestly. "Sir, you have
found in your niece one of the sweetest and most lovely girls that
ever lived. I congratulate you!"

Mr. Jones nodded again. His mood had changed again since they began
to speak of Myrtle. His eyes now glowed with pleasure and pride. He
clasped Mr. Merrick's hand in his own as he said with feeling:

"She has saved me, sir. Even before I knew she was my niece I began to
wonder if it would not pay me to live for her sake. And now—"

"And now you are sure of it," cried Uncle John, emphatically. "But who
is to break the news to Myrtle?"

"No one, just yet," was the reply. "Allow me, sir, if you please, to
keep her in ignorance of the truth a little longer. I only made the
discovery myself today, you see, and I need time to think it all out
and determine how best to take advantage of my good fortune."

"I shall respect your wish, sir," said Mr. Merrick.

The girls came trooping back then, and instead of running away Anson
Jones remained to talk with them.

Beth and Patsy were really surprised to find the "Sad One" chatting
pleasantly with Uncle John. The Major looked at the man curiously, not
understanding the change in him. But Myrtle was quite proud of the
progress he was making and his improved spirits rendered the girl very
happy indeed. Why she should take such an interest in this man she
could not have explained, except that he had been discouraged and
hopeless and she had succeeded in preventing him from destroying his
life and given him courage to face the world anew. But surely that was
enough, quite sufficient to give her a feeling of "proprietorship," as
Patsy had expressed it, in this queer personage. Aside from all this,
she was growing to like the man who owed so much to her. Neither Patsy
nor Beth could yet see much to interest them or to admire in his
gloomy character; but Myrtle's intuition led her to see beneath the
surface, and she knew there were lovable traits in Mr. Jones' nature
if he could only be induced to display them.

After that evening the man attached himself to the party on every
possible occasion. Sometimes in their trips around Coronado he rode
in their automobile, at other times he took Myrtle, and perhaps one
other, in his own car. Every day he seemed brighter and more cheerful,
until even Major Doyle admitted he was not a bad companion.

Three weeks later they moved up to Los Angeles, taking two days for
the trip and stopping at Riverside and Redlands on the way. They
established their headquarters at one of the handsome Los Angeles
hotels and from there made little journeys through the surrounding
country, the garden spot of Southern California. One day they went to
Pasadena, which boasts more splendid residences than any city of its
size in the world; at another time they visited Hollywood, famed as
"the Paradise of Flowers." Both mountains and sea were within easy
reach, and there was so much to do that the time passed all too
swiftly.

It was on their return from such a day's outing that Myrtle met with
her life's greatest surprise. Indeed, the surprise was shared by all
but Uncle John, who had religiously kept the secret of Mr. Jones'
identity.

As they reached the hotel this eventful evening Mr. Merrick said to
the girls:

"After you have dressed for dinner meet us on the parlor floor. We
dine privately to-night."

They were mildly astonished at the request, but as Uncle John was
always doing some unusual thing they gave the matter little thought.
However, on reaching the parlor floor an hour later they found Mr.
Merrick, the Major and Mr. Jones in a group awaiting them, and
all were garbed in their dress suits, with rare flowers in their
buttonholes.

"What is it, then?" asked Patsy. "A treat?"

"I think so," said Uncle John, smiling. "Your arm, please, Miss
Doyle."

The Major escorted Beth and Mr. Jones walked solemnly beside Myrtle,
who still used crutches, but more as a matter of convenience than
because they were necessary. At the end of a corridor a waiter threw
open the door of a small but beautiful banquet room, where a round
table, glistening with cut glass and silver, was set for six. In the
center of the table was a handsome centerpiece decorated with vines
of myrtle, while the entire room was filled with sprays of the dainty
vines, alive with their pretty blue flowers.

"Goodness me!" exclaimed Patsy, laughing gleefully. "This seems to be
our little Myrtle's especial spread. Who is the host, Uncle John?"

"Mr. Jones, of course," announced Beth, promptly.

Myrtle blushed and glanced shyly at Mr. Jones. His face was fairly
illumined with pleasure. He placed her in the seat of honor and said
gravely:

"This is indeed Myrtle's entertainment, for she has found something.
It is also partly my own thanksgiving banquet, my friends; for I, too,
have found something."

His tone was so serious that all remained silent as they took their
seats, and during the many courses served the conversation was less
lively than on former occasions when there had been no ceremony.
Myrtle tried hard to eat, but there was a question in her eyes—a
question that occupied her all through the meal. When, finally, the
dessert was served and the servants had withdrawn and left them to
themselves, the girl could restrain her curiosity no longer.

"Tell me, Mr. Jones," she said, turning to him as he sat beside her;
"what have you found?"

He was deliberate as ever in answering.

"You must not call me 'Mr. Jones,' hereafter," said he.

"Why not? Then, what
shall
I call you?" she returned, greatly
perplexed.

"I think it would be more appropriate for you to call me 'Uncle
Anson.'"

"Uncle Anson! Why, Uncle Anson is—is—"

She paused, utterly bewildered, but with a sudden suspicion that made
her head whirl.

"It strikes me, Myrtle," said Uncle John, cheerfully, "that you have
never been properly introduced to Mr. Jones. If I remember aright you
scraped acquaintance with him and had no regular introduction. So I
will now perform that agreeable office. Miss Myrtle Dean, allow me to
present your uncle, Mr. Collanson B. Jones."

"Collanson!" repeated all the girls, in an astonished chorus.

"That is my name," said Mr. Jones, the first smile they had seen
radiating his grim countenance. "All the folks at home, among them my
sister Kitty—your mother, my dear—called me 'Anson'; and that is
why, I suppose, old Martha Dean knew me only as your 'Uncle Anson.'
Had she told you my name was Collanson you might have suspected
earlier that 'C.B. Jones' was your lost uncle. Lost only because he
was unable to find you, Myrtle. While you were journeying West in
search of him he was journeying East. But I'm glad, for many reasons,
that you did not know me. It gave me an opportunity to learn the
sweetness of your character. Now I sincerely thank God that He led you
to me, to reclaim me and give me something to live for. If you will
permit me, my dear niece, I will hereafter devote my whole life to
you, and earnestly try to promote your happiness."

During this long speech Myrtle had sat wide eyed and white, watching
his face and marveling at the strangeness of her fate. But she was
very, very glad, and young enough to quickly recover from the shock.

There was a round of applause from Patsy, Beth, the Major and
Uncle John, which served admirably to cover their little friend's
embarrassment and give her time to partially collect herself. Then she
turned to Mr. Jones and with eyes swimming with tears tenderly kissed
his furrowed cheek.

"Oh, Uncle Anson; I'm
so
happy!" she said.

Of course Myrtle's story is told, now. But it may be well to add that
Uncle Anson did for her all that Uncle John had intended doing, and
even more. The consultation with a famous New York specialist, on
their return a month later, assured the girl that no painful operation
was necessary. The splendid outing she had enjoyed, with the fine air
of the far West, had built up her health to such an extent that nature
remedied the ill she had suffered. Myrtle took no crutches back to New
York—a city now visited for the first time in her life—nor did she
ever need them again. The slight limp she now has will disappear
in time, the doctors say, and the child is so radiantly happy that
neither she nor her friends notice the limp at all.

Patsy Doyle, as owner of the pretty flat building on Willing Square,
has rented to Uncle Anson the apartment just opposite that of the
Doyles, and Mr. Jones has furnished it cosily to make a home for his
niece, to whom he is so devoted that Patsy declares her own doting and
adoring father is fairly outclassed.

The Major asserts this is absurd; but he has acquired a genuine
friendship for Anson Jones, who is no longer sad but has grown lovable
under Myrtle's beneficent influence.