Aunt Jane's Nieces
"
"Me!" he exclaimed, astounded. "Why, suguration, Jane, I don't--"
"Silence!" she cried, sternly. "I expect neither thanks nor protests.
If you take care of the money, John, it will last you as long as you
live."
Uncle John laughed. He doubled up in his chair and rocked back and
forth, shaking his little round body as if he had met with the most
amusing thing that had ever happened in his life. Aunt Jane stared
at him, while Louise and Beth looked their astonishment, but Patsy's
clear laughter rang above Uncle John's gasping chuckles.
"I hope, dear Uncle," said she, mischievously, "that when poor Aunt
Jane is gone you'll be able to buy a new necktie."
He looked at her whimsically, and wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Thank you, Jane," said the little man to his sister. "It's a lot of
money, and I'll be proud to own it."
"Why did you laugh." demanded Aunt Jane.
"I just happened to think that our old Dad once said I'd never be
worth a dollar in all my life. What would he say now, Jane, if he knew
I stood good to have five thousand--if I can manage to outlive you?"
She turned from him with an expression of scorn.
"In addition to these bequests," said she, "I have left five thousand
to the boy and twenty thousand to Mr. Watson. The remainder of the
property will go to Patricia."
For a moment the room was intensely still. Then Patricia said, with
quiet determination:
"You may as well make another will, Aunt. I'll not touch a penny of
your money."
"Why not?" asked the woman, almost fiercely.
"You have been kind to me, and you mean well," said Patricia. "I would
rather not tell you my reasons."
"I demand to know them!"
"Ah, aunt; can't you understand, without my speaking?"
"No," said the other; but a flush crossed her pale cheek,
nevertheless.
Patsy arose and stumped to a position directly in front of Jane
Merrick, where she rested on her crutches. Her eyes were bright and
full of indignation, and her plain little face was so white that every
freckle showed distinctly.
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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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