Aunt Jane's Nieces
The far away trees
were there and the near-by rose gardens. There was a cat spitting at
an angry dog, caricatures of old Misery and James, the gardener, and
of Aunt Jane and even Silas Watson himself--all so clearly depicted
that the lawyer suddenly wondered if they were not clever, and an
evidence of genius. But the boy turned to look at him, and the next
moment seized the book from his grasp and sent it flying through
the open window, uttering at the same time a rude exclamation of
impatience.
The lawyer quietly lighted his pipe.
"Why did you do that, Kenneth?" he asked. "The pictures are clever
enough to be preserved. I did not know you have a talent for drawing."
The boy glanced at him, but answered nothing, and the lawyer thought
best not to pursue the subject After smoking a moment in silence he
remarked:
"Your aunt is failing fast." Although no relative, Kenneth had been
accustomed to speak of Jane Merrick as his aunt.
Getting neither word nor look in reply the lawyer presently continued:
"I do not think she will live much longer."
The boy stared from the window and drummed on the sill with his
fingers.
"When she dies," said Mr. Watson, in a musing tone, "there will be a
new mistress at Elmhurst and you will have to move out."
The boy now turned to look at him, enquiringly.
"You are twenty, and you are not ready for college. You would be of no
use in the commercial world. You have not even the capacity to become
a clerk. What will you do, Kenneth? Where will you go?"
The boy shrugged his shoulders.
"When will Aunt Jane die?" he asked.
"I hope she will live many days yet. She may die tomorrow."
"When she does, I'll answer your question." said the boy, roughly.
"When I'm turned out of this place--which is part prison and part
paradise--I'll do something. I don't know what, and I won't bother
about it till the time comes. But I'll do something."
"Could you earn a living?" asked the old lawyer.
"Perhaps not; but I'll get one. Will I be a beggar?"
"I don't know.
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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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