Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
I hope soon to be with
you.
"Very affectionately, UNCLE JOHN."
"What does it all mean?" asked Patsy, bewildered, when Beth had finished
reading.
"Why, it is clear enough, I'm sure," said Kenneth. "Uncle John is
imprisoned by brigands, and the money he requires is his ransom. We must
get it as soon as possible, you know, and luckily he is so rich that he
won't miss this little draft at all."
Beth sat silent, angrily staring at the letter.
"I suppose," said Patsy, hesitating, "the robbers will do the dear uncle
some mischief, if he doesn't pay."
"Just knock him on the head, that's all," said the boy. "But there's no
need to worry. We can get the money easily."
Suddenly Beth jumped up.
"Where's that girl?" she demanded, sharply.
"What girl?"
"Tato."
"Tato, my dear coz, is a boy," answered Kenneth; "and he disappeared
ages ago."
"You must be blind," said Beth, scornfully, "not to recognize a girl
when you see one. A boy, indeed!"
"Why, he dressed like a boy," replied Kenneth, hesitatingly.
"So much the more disgraceful," sniffed Beth. "She belongs to those
brigands, I suppose."
"Looks something like Victor Valdi," said Patsy, thoughtfully.
"Il Duca? Of course! I see it myself, now. Patricia, it is that wicked
duke who has captured Uncle John."
"I had guessed that," declared Patsy, smiling.
"He must be a handsome rascal," observed Kenneth, "for the child is
pretty as a picture."
"He isn't handsome at all," replied Beth; "but there is a look about the
child's eyes that reminds me of him."
"That's it, exactly," agreed Patsy.
Louise now approached them with a white, frightened face.
"Isn't it dreadful!" she moaned. "They are going to kill Ferralti unless
he gives them thirty thousand dollars."
"And I don't believe he can raise thirty cents," said Patsy, calmly.
"Oh, yes, he can," answered Louise, beginning to cry. "Hi--his--father
is d--dead, and has left him--a--fortune."
"Don't blubber, Lou," said the boy, chidingly; "in that case your dago
friend is as well off as need be.
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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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