Aunt Jane's Nieces
"Here is Uncle John's room," exclaimed the girl, entering the third
chamber.
"Mine?" enquired Uncle John in mild surprise.
"Sure, sir; you're one of the family, and I'm glad it's as good as the
Major's, every bit."
Uncle John's eyes twinkled.
"I hope the bed is soft," he remarked, pressing it critically.
"It's as good as the old sofa, any day," said Patsy, indignantly.
Just then a bell tinkled, and after looking at one another in silent
consternation for a moment, the Major tiptoed stealthily to the front
door, followed by the others.
"What'll we do?" asked Patsy, in distress.
"Better open it," suggested Uncle John, calmly.
The Major did so, and there was a little maid bowing and smiling
outside. She entered at once, closing the door behind her, and bowed
again.
"This is my new mistress, I suppose," she said, looking at Patsy. "I
am your servant, Miss Patricia."
Patsy gasped and stared at her. The maid was not much older than she
was, but she looked pleasant and intelligent and in keeping with the
rooms. She wore a gray dress with white collar and white apron and
cap, and seemed so dainty and sweet that the Major and Uncle John
approved her at once.
Patsy sat down, from sheer lack of strength to stand up.
"Who hired you, then?" she asked.
"A gentleman from the bank," was the reply. "I'm Mary, if you please,
Miss. And my wages are all arranged for in advance, so there will be
nothing for you to pay," said the little maid.
"Can you cook?" asked Patsy, curiously.
"Yes, Miss," with a smile. "The dinner will be ready at one o'clock."
"Oh; you've been here before, then?"
"Two days, Miss, getting ready for you."
"And where will you sleep?"
"I've a little room beyond the kitchen. Didn't you see it, Miss
Patricia?"
"No, Mary."
"Anything more at present, Miss Patricia?"
"No, Mary."
The maid bowed again, and disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving an
awe-struck group behind her.
The Major whistled softly. Uncle John seemed quite unconcerned. Patsy
took out her handkerchief.
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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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