Aunt Jane's Nieces
But Patricia's manner was not at all offensive. Her big eyes were
as frank as her words, but they glistened with kindliness and good
nature, and it was evident the girl had no doubt at all of her aunt's
reply, for she straightway begun to take off her hat.
The invalid had kept her eyes sternly fastened upon her young niece
ever since the beginning of the interview. Now she reached out a hand
and touched her bell.
"Misery," she said to the old housekeeper, "show my niece, Miss
Patricia, to the rose chamber. And see that she is made comfortable."
"Thank you," said Patsy, jumping up to go.
"Make yourself perfectly free of the place," continued Aunt Jane, in
an even tone, turning to Patricia, "and have as good a time as you
can. I'm afraid it's rather stupid here for girls, but that can't be
helped. Stay as long as you please, and go home whenever you like; but
while you are here, if you ever feel like chatting with a harsh
and disagreeable old woman, come to me at any time and you will be
welcome."
Patsy, standing before her, looked down into her worn face with a
pitying expression.
"Ah! I've been cruel to you," she exclaimed, impulsively, "and I
didn't mean to hurt you at all, Aunt Jane. You must forgive me. It's
just my blunt Irish way, you see; but if I hadn't been drawn to you
from the first I wouldn't have said a word--good or bad!"
"Go now," replied Aunt Jane, turning in her chair rather wearily. "But
come to me again whenever you like."
Patsy nodded, and followed the housekeeper to the rose chamber--the
prettiest room old Elmhurst possessed, with broad windows opening
directly upon the finest part of the garden.
Lawyer Watson sat opposite his old friend for some moments in
thoughtful silence. "The child is impossible." he said, at last.
"You think so?" she enquired, moodily.
"Absolutely. Either of the others would make a better Lady of
Elmhurst. Yet I like the little thing, I confess. She quite won my old
heart after I had known her for five minutes. But money would ruin
her. She's a child of the people, and ought not to be raised from her
proper level. Jane, Jane--you're making a grave mistake in all this.
Why don't you do the only right thing in your power, and leave
Elmhurst to Kenneth?
- Page:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- 138
- 139
- 140
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.
© 2013-2019 FairyTales
Almost all texts on this website are from the Public Domain.