Aunt Jane's Nieces
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.
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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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