Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
See; here is my thought. At once I will disband my men
and send them away. My household effects I will sell, and then abandon
the valley forever. Tato and I have some money, enough to live in quiet
in some other land, where we shall be unknown."
"A very good idea, Duke."
"But from my respect for you, Signer Merreek, and from my daughter's
love for your nieces--the brave and beautiful signorini--I shall dare to
ask from you a favor. But already I am aware that we do not deserve it."
"What is it, sir?"
"That you take my Tato to keep for a few weeks, until I can send away my
men and arrange my affairs here. It would be unpleasant for the child
here, and with you she will be so happy. I would like the sweet
signorini to buy nice dresses, like those they themselves wear, for my
little girl, and to teach her the good manners she could not gain as
the brigand's daughter. Tato has the money to pay for everything but the
kindness, if you will let her stay in your society until I can claim
her. I am aware that I ask too much; but the Signorina Patsy has said to
my child that they would always be friends, whatever might happen, and
as I know you to be generous I have dared to come to you with this
request. I only ask your friendship for my Tato, who is innocent. For
myself, after I have become a good man, then perhaps you will forgive
me, too."
Uncle John looked thoughtful; the old lawyer was grave and listened
silently. Patsy, her arms still around the shrinking form of the child,
looked pleadingly at her uncle. Beth's eyes were moist and Louise smiled
encouragingly.
"Well, my dears? The Duke is certainly not entitled to our friendship,
as he truly says; but I have nothing against little Tato. What do you
advise?"
"Let us keep her, and dress her like the beautiful doll she is, and love
her!" cried Patsy.
"She shall be our adopted cousin," said Louise.
"Tato is good stuff!" declared Kenneth.
"Well, Beth?"
"It seems to me, Uncle," said the girl, seriously, "that if the Duke
really wishes to reform, we should give him a helping hand.
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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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