Aunt Jane's Nieces
"
"And now we'll have our cribbage and get to bed early. Heigho! but
Sunday's a great day for folks that work."
CHAPTER XXVI.
A BUNCH OF KEYS.
Uncle John did not sleep well. Perhaps he had a guilty conscience.
Anyway, he tossed about a good deal on the sofa-bed in the
living-room, and wore himself out to such an extent that when Patsy
got up at eight o'clock her uncle had fallen into his first sound
sleep.
She never disturbed him until she had made the fire and cooked the
coffee and boiled the three white eggs. By this time the Major was
dressed and shaved, and he aroused Uncle John and bade him hurry into
the closet and make his toilet, "so that Patsy could put the house to
rights."
Uncle John obeyed eagerly, and was ready as soon as the Major had
brought the smoking rolls from the bakery. Ah, but it was a merry
breakfast; and a delicious one into the bargain. Uncle John seemed
hungry, and looked at the empty egg-shells regretfully.
"Next time, Patsy," he said, "you must buy six eggs."
"Look at his recklessness!" cried Patsy, laughing. "You're just as bad
as the Major, every bit. If you men hadn't me for a guardian you'd be
in the poorhouse in a month."
"But we have you, my dear," said Uncle John, smiling into her dancing
eyes; "so we won't complain at one egg instead of two."
Just then someone pounded on the door, and the girl ran to open it.
There was a messenger boy outside, looking smart and neat in his
blue-and-gold uniform, and he touched his cap politely to the girl.
"Miss Patricia Doyle?"
"That's me."
"A parcel for you. Sign here, please."
Patsy signed, bothering her head the while to know what the little
package contained and who could have sent it. Then the boy was gone,
and she came back slowly to the breakfast table, with the thing in her
hand.
"What is it, Patsy?" asked the Major, curiously.
"I'm dying to know, myself," said the girl.
Uncle John finished his coffee, looking unconcerned.
"A good way is to open it," remarked the Major.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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