Aunt Jane's Nieces
They're full of very expensive things, and
none of the grand houses Madam Borne has sent me to is any finer than
ours. I'm sure the place is too good for us, who are working people.
Do you think we ought to stay here?"
"The Doyles," answered the Major, very seriously, "are one of the
greatest and most aristocratic families in all Ireland, which is the
most aristocratic country in the world. If I only had our pedigree I
could prove it to you easily. There's nothing too good for an Irish
gentleman, even if he condescends to bookkeeping to supply the
immediate necessities of life; and as you're me own daughter,
Patricia, though a Merrick on your poor sainted mother's side, you're
entitled to all you can get honestly. Am I right, Uncle John, or do I
flatter myself?"
Uncle John stroked the girl's head softly.
"You are quite right," he said. "There is nothing too good for a
brave, honest girl who's heart is in the right place."
"And that's Patsy," declared the Major, as if the question were
finally settled.
On Monday morning Mary had a dainty breakfast all ready for them at
seven o'clock, and Patsy and her father departed with light hearts for
their work. Uncle John rode part way down town with them.
"I'm going to buy my new suit, today, and a new necktie," he said.
"Don't let them rob you," was Patsy's parting injunction. "Is your
money all safe? And if you buy a ten dollar suit of clothes the dealer
ought to throw in the necktie to bind the bargain. And see that
they're all wool, Uncle John."
"What, the neckties?"
"No, the clothes. Good-bye, and don't be late to dinner. Mary might
scold."
"I'll remember. Good-bye, my dear."
Patsy was almost singing for joy when she walked into Madam Borne's
hair-dressing establishment.
"Don't take off your things," said the Madam, sharply, "Your services
are no longer required."
Patsy looked at her in amazement. Doubtless she hadn't heard aright.
"I have another girl in your place," continued Madam Borne, "so I'll
bid you good morning.
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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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