Aunt Jane's Nieces
"
"Elizabeth must go to Elmhurst," said Mrs. De Graf, ignoring her
husband's taunt.
"She shan't. Your sister refused to loan me fifty dollars last year,
when I was in great trouble. She hasn't given you a single cent since
I married you. No daughter of mine shall go In Elmhurst to be bullied
and insulted by Jane Merrick."
"Adolph, try to conceal the fact that you're a fool," said his wife.
"Jane is in a desperate state of health, and can't live very long at
the best. I believe she's decided to leave her money to Elizabeth, or
she never would have invited the child to visit her. Do you want to
fly in the face of Providence, you doddering old imbecile?"
"No," said the Professor, accepting the doubtful appellation without a
blush. "How much do you suppose Jane is worth?"
"A half million, at the very least. When she was a girl she inherited
from Thomas Bradley, the man she was engaged to marry, and who was
suddenly killed in a railway accident, more than a quarter of a
million dollars, besides that beautiful estate of Elmhurst. I don't
believe Jane has even spent a quarter of her income, and the fortune
must have increased enormously. Elizabeth will be one of the
wealthiest heiresses in the country!"
"If she gets the money, which I doubt," returned the Professor,
gloomily.
"Why should you doubt it, after this letter?"
"You had another sister and a brother, and they both had children,"
said he.
"They each left a girl. I admit. But Jane has never favored them
any more than she has me. And this invitation, coming; when Jane is
practically on her death bed, is a warrant that Beth will get the
money."
"I hope she will," sighed the music teacher. "We all need it bad
enough, I'm sure."
During this conversation Elizabeth, who might be supposed the one most
interested in her Aunt's invitation, sat silently at her place, eating
her breakfast with her accustomed calmness of demeanor and scarcely
glancing at her parents.
She had pleasant and quite regular features, for a girl of fifteen,
with dark hair and eyes--the "Merrick eyes," her mother proudly
declared--and a complexion denoting perfect health and colored with
the rosy tints of youth.
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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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