Aunt Jane's Nieces Out West
Arthur, admiring his ring in spite of his chagrin at receiving such a
gift from a comparative stranger, placed the token on his finger.
"It is a beauty, indeed," said he, "but I don't think we ought to accept
such valuable gifts from this boy."
"I do not see why," returned his wife Louise. "I think these pretty
tributes for saving Mr. Jones' life are very appropriate. Of course
neither Beth nor I had anything to do with that affair, but we are
included in the distribution because it would be more embarrassing to
leave us out of it."
"And the pearls came from Sangoa," added Beth, "so all these precious
gifts have cost Ajo nothing, except for their settings."
"If Sangoa can furnish many such pearls as these," remarked Arthur,
reflectively, "the island ought to be famous, instead of unknown. Their
size and beauty render the gems priceless."
"Well," said Patsy soberly, "we know now where A. Jones got his money,
which is so plentiful that he can build any number of film factories and
picture theatres. Sangoa must have wonderful pearl fisheries--don't you
remember, girls, that he told us his people were fishermen?--for each of
these specimens is worth a small fortune. Mine, especially, is the
largest and finest pearl I have ever seen."
"I beg your pardon!" sternly exclaimed Uncle John, as he whirled swiftly
around. "Can I do anything for you, sir?"
For Mr. Le Drieux had stealthily advanced to the alcove and was glaring
at the display of pearls and making notes in a small book.
He bowed, without apparent resentment, as he answered Mr. Merrick: "Thank
you, sir; you have already served me admirably. Pardon my intrusion."
Then he closed the book, slipped it into his pocket and with another low
bow walked away.
"What rank impertinence!" cried Arthur, staring after him. "Some
newspaper reporter, I suppose. Do you know him, Uncle John?"
"He forced an introduction, a few evenings ago. It is a pearl
merchant from New York, named Le Drieux, so I suppose his curiosity
is but natural.
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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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