Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
"New folks is comin' to the Cap'n Wegg farm," he announced, as a
beginning.
She turned and looked at him queerly.
"Has Joe sold the place?" she asked.
"Near a year ago. Some fool rich man has bought it and is comin' down
here to spend his summer vacation, he says. Here, read his letters.
They'll explain it better 'n I can."
Her hand trembled a little as she took the letters McNutt pulled from
his pocket. Then she sat upon a bench and read them all through. By that
time she had regained her composure.
"The gentleman is somewhat eccentric," she remarked; "but he will make
no mistake in coming to this delightful place, if he wishes quiet
and rest."
"Don't know what he's after, I'm sure," replied the man. "But he's sent
down enough furniture an' truck to stock a hotel, an' I want to know ef
you'll go over an' put it in the rooms, an' straighten things out."
"Me!"
"Why, yes. You've lived in cities some, an' know how citified things go.
Con-twist it, Ethel, there's things in the bunch that neither I ner Nick
Thorne ever hearn tell of, much less knowin' what they're used for."
The girl laughed.
"When are the folks coming?" she asked.
"When I git things in shape. They've sent some money down to pay fer
what's done, so you won't have to work fer nuthin'."
"I will, though," responded the girl, in a cheery tone. "It will delight
me to handle pretty things. Are Nora and Tom still there?"
"Oh, yes. I had orders to turn the Huckses out, ye see; but I didn't do
it."
"I'm glad of that," she returned, brightly "Perhaps we may arrange it so
they can stay. Old Nora's a dear."
"But she's blind."
"She knows every inch of the Wegg house, and does her work more
thoroughly than many who can see. When do you want me, Peggy?"
"Soon's you kin come."
"Then I'll be over tomorrow morning."
At that moment a wild roar, like that of a beast, came from the house.
The sad faced woman ran down a passage; a door slammed, and then all was
quiet again.
McNutt hitched uneasily from the wooden foot to the good one.
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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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