Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
" protested Patsy.
"My dear, no person who ever lived could smile every minute, winter and
summer, rain or shine, day and night, and always have a reason for
the smile."
"Of course not," agreed Beth. "Old Hucks is a curious character. I
realized that when I had known him five minutes."
"But he's poor," urged Patsy, in defense of the old man. "He hasn't a
penny in the world, and McNutt told me if we turned Thomas and Nora away
they'd have to go to the poorhouse."
"That is no argument at all," said Louise, calmly. "If we consider the
fact that Old Hucks may be a miser, and have a craving for money without
any desire to spend it, then we are pretty close to a reason why he
should bide his time and then murder his old master to obtain the riches
he coveted. Mind you, I don't say Hucks is guilty, but it is our duty to
consider this phase of the question."
"And then," added Beth, "if Hucks should prove to be a miser, it is easy
to guess he would hide his wealth where he could secretly gloat over it,
and still continue to pose as a pauper."
"I don't believe it," said Patsy, stoutly.
"You'll never make a successful detective if you allow your personal
feelings to influence you," returned Louise. "I, too, sincerely hope
that Thomas is innocent; but we are not justified in acquitting him
until we have made a careful investigation and watched his actions."
"I'm quite sure he's connected with the mystery in some way," said Beth.
"It will do no harm to watch Old Hucks, as Louise suggests."
"And you might try to pump him, Patsy, and see if you can get him to
talk of the murder. Some careless remark might give us just the clue we
need and guide us to the real criminal. That would free Thomas from all
suspicion, you see."
"But why do you ask me to do this?" demanded Patsy. "Thomas and I are
good friends, and I'd feel like a traitor to try to get him to confess
a murder."
"If he is innocent, you have done no harm," said her eldest cousin; "and
if he is guilty you don't want him for your friend.
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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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