Read on line
Listen on line
Main > Fairy tale > All authors > Frank Baum > Fairy tale "Aunt Jane's Nieces"

Aunt Jane's Nieces

Donald, the poor master's side was crushed in, and both

legs splintered. I knew at once he was dying, when I carried him to

the grass and laid him down; and he knew it, too. Yes, the master knew

he was done; and him so young and happy, and just about to be married

to--to--the name escapes me, lad!"

His voice sank to a low mumble, and he closed his eyes wearily.

The watchers at his side stood still and waited. It might be that

death had overtaken the poor fellow. But no; he moved again, and

opened his eyes, continuing his speech in a stronger tone.

"It was hard work to get the paper for Master Tom," he said; "but he

swore he must have it before he died. I ran all the way to the station

house and back--a mile or more--and brought the paper and a pen and

ink, besides. It was but a telegraph blank--all I could find. Naught

but a telegraph blank, lad."

Again his voice trailed away into a mumbling whisper, but now Uncle

John and Donald looked into one another's eyes with sudden interest.

"He mustn't die yet!" said the little man; and the coachman leaned

over the wounded form and said, distinctly:

"Yes, lad; I'm listening."

"To be sure," said James, brightening a bit. "So I held the paper for

him, and the brakeman supported Master Tom's poor body, and he wrote

out the will as clear as may be."

"The will!"

"Sure enough; Master Tom's last will. Isn't my name on it, too, where

I signed it? And the conductor's beside it, for the poor brakeman

didn't dare let him go? Of course. Who should sign the will with

Master Tom but me--his old servant and friend? Am I right, Donald?"

"Yes, lad."

"'Now,' says Master Tom, 'take it to Lawyer Watson, James, and bid him

care for it. And give my love to Jane--that's the name, Donald; the

one I thought I'd forgot--'and now lay me back and let me die.' His

very words, Donald. And we laid him back and he died. And he died.

Poor Master Tom. Poor, poor young Master. And him to--be married--in


"The paper, James!" cried Uncle John, recalling the dying man to the


Also read
Category: Andersen Hans Christian
Read times: 6