Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
Afterward he marched home again beside
the Major, feeling very well pleased with his morning's work.
When the girls reached home late in the afternoon, they were thrown into
a state of great excitement by the news, briefly related by their uncle,
that Joseph Wegg had returned to Millville "considerably smashed" by an
automobile accident, and was now stopping at the village hotel
for repairs.
They refrained from making remarks upon the incident until they were
alone, when the secret council of three decided to make Joe Wegg's
acquaintance as soon as possible, to discover what light the young man
might be able to throw upon the great mystery.
"Do you know, girls," said Louise, impressively, "it almost seems as if
fate had sent Joe Wegg here to be an instrument in the detection of the
murderer and robber of his poor father."
"If Joe knew about it, why didn't he track the villain down himself?"
inquired Patsy.
"Perhaps he hasn't suspected the truth," said Beth. "Often those who are
closely concerned with such tragedies do not observe the evidences of
crime as clearly as outsiders."
"Where did you get that information?" demanded Patsy.
"From one of Anna Doyle Oppenheim's detective stories," answered Beth,
seriously. "I've been reading up on such things, lately."
"Detective stories," said Louise, reflectively, "are only useful in
teaching us to observe the evidences of crime. This case, for example,
is so intricate and unusual that only by careful thought, and following
each thread of evidence to its end, can we hope to bring the criminal
to justice."
"That seems to me conceited," observed Miss Doyle, composedly.
"Detective stories don't have to stick to facts; or, rather, they can
make the facts to be whatever they please. So I don't consider them as
useful as they are ornamental. And this isn't a novel, girls; it's
mostly suspicion and slander."
"You don't seem able to be in earnest about anything," objected Beth,
turning a little red.
"But I try to be." said Patricia.
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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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