Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
"
The young man seemed to resent the indictment.
"The deception seemed necessary at the time, sir," he said, "and you
must not forget the old adage that 'all's fair in love and war.' But I
beg that you will forgive us both and overlook our fault, if fault it
was. Hereafter it is our desire to be perfectly frank with you in all
things."
That was a good way to disarm Uncle John's anger, and the result was
immediately apparent.
"Very good," said the old gentleman; "if you are proper and obedient
children I've no objection to your being together. I rather like you,
Arthur Weldon, and most of your failings are due to the foolishness of
youth. But you've got to acquire dignity now, for you have suddenly
become a man of consequence in the world. Don't think you've got to
marry every girl that attracts you by her pretty face. This devotion to
Louise may be 'puppy-love,' after all, and--"
"Oh, Uncle!" came a chorus of protest.
"What, you rascals! are you encouraging this desperate fol-de-rol?"
"You are too severe, Uncle John," said Patsy, smiling. "The trouble with
you is that you've never been in love yourself."
"Never been in love!" He beamed upon the three girls with devotion
written all over his round, jolly face.
"Then you're jealous," said Kenneth. "Give the poor kids a fair show,
Uncle John."
"All right, I will. Arthur, my lad, join our happy family as one of my
kidlets, and love us all--but no one in particular. Eh? Until we get
home again, you know. We've started out to have the time of our lives,
and we're getting it in chunks--eh, girls?"
"We certainly are, Uncle John!" Another chorus.
"Well, what do you say, Arthur Weldon?"
"Perhaps you are right, sir," answered the young man. "And, anyway, I am
deeply grateful for your kindness. I fear I must return home in a couple
of weeks, to look after business matters; but while I remain with you I
shall try to conduct myself as you wish."
"That sounds proper. Is it satisfactory to you, Louise?"
"Yes, Uncle."
"Then we've settled Cupid--for a time, anyway.
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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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