Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
He was clean-cut and frank, and believed in his pump. I did more.
At the climax of the struggle I gave another thousand, making five
thousand in all."
"Well?"
"It's gone, John; and you've got the farm. The other fellows were too
clever for my young friend, Joseph Wegg, and knocked out his patent."
"I'm so sorry!" said Patsy, sympathetically.
The Major coughed.
"It's not an unusual tale, my dear; especially when John advances the
money," he replied.
"What became of the young man?" asked the girl.
"He's a competent chauffeur, and so he went to work driving an
automobile."
"Where is Millville?" inquired Uncle John, thoughtfully.
"Somewhere at the north of the State, I believe."
"Have you investigated the farm at all?"
"I looked up a real estate dealer living at Millville, and wrote him
about the Wegg farm. He said if any one wanted the place very badly it
might sell for three thousand dollars."
"Humph!"
"But his best information was to the effect that no one wanted it at
all."
Patsy laughed.
"Poor Uncle John!" she said.
The little man, however, was serious. For a time he ate with great
deliberation and revolved an interesting thought in his mind.
"Years ago." said he, "I lived in a country town; and I love the smell
of the meadows and the hum of the bees in the orchards. Any orchards at
my farm, Major?"
"Don't know, sir."
"Pretty soon," continued Uncle John, "it's going to be dreadfully hot in
New York, and we'll have to get away."
"Seashore's the place," remarked the Major. "Atlantic City, or
Swampscott, or--"
"Rubbish!" growled the other man, impatiently. "The girls and I have
just come from Europe. We've had enough sea to last us all _this_
season, at least. What we pine for is country life--pure milk, apple
trees and new mown hay."
"We, Uncle?" said Patsy.
"Yes, my dear. A couple of months on the farm will do all of my nieces
good. Beth is still with Louise, you know, and they must find the city
deadly dull, just now. The farm's the thing. And the Major can run up to
see us for a couple of weeks in the hot weather, and we'll all have a
glorious, lazy time.
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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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