L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 01 (19 page)

"Fine," said the Major. "They'd missed me at the office, and were glad
to have me back. And what do you think? I've got a raise."

"Really?" said Uncle John, seeing it was expected of him.

"For a fact. It's Patsy's doing, I've no doubt. She wheedled the firm
into giving me a vacation, and now they're to pay me twelve a week
instead of ten."

"Is that enough?" asked Uncle John, doubtfully.

"More than enough, sir. I'm getting old, and can't earn as much as a
younger man. But I'm pretty tough, and mean to hold onto that twelve a
week as long as possible."

"What pay do you get, Patsy?" asked Uncle John.

"Almost as much as Daddy. We're dreadfully rich, Uncle John; so you
needn't worry if you don't strike a job yourself all at once."

"Any luck today, sir," asked the Major, tucking a napkin under his
chin and beginning on the soup.

Uncle John shook his head.

"Of course not," said Patsy, quickly. "It's too early, as yet. Don't
hurry, Uncle John. Except that it'll keep you busy, there's no need
for you to work at all."

"You're older than I am," suggested the Major, "and that makes it
harder to break in. But there's no hurry, as Patsy says."

Uncle John did not seem to be worrying over his idleness. He kept on
questioning his brother-in-law and his niece about their labors, and
afterward related to them the sights he had seen in the shop windows.
Of course he could not eat much after the feast he had had at
luncheon, and this disturbed Patsy a little. She insisted he was
tired, and carried her men away to the tenement rooms as soon as
possible, where she installed them at the table to play cribbage until
bed-time.

The next day Uncle John seemed to be busy enough, although of course
Patsy could not know what he was doing. He visited a real-estate
office, for one thing, and then telephoned Isham, Marvin & Co. and
issued a string of orders in a voice not nearly so meek and mild as
it was when he was in Patsy's presence. Whatever he had undertaken
required time, for all during the week he left the tenement directly
the Major and his daughter had gone to the city, and bustled about
until it was time to meet them for dinner at the restaurant. But he
was happy and in good spirits and enjoyed his evening game of cribbage
with the Major exceedingly.

"You must be nearly bankrupt, by this time," said Patsy on Tuesday
evening.

"It's an expensive city to live in," sighed Uncle John.

She gave him fifty cents of his money, then, and on Friday fifty cents
more.

"After a time," she said, "you'll manage to get along with less. It's
always harder to economize at first."

"How about the bills?" he inquired. "Don't I pay my share of them?"

"Your expenses are nothing at all," declared the Major, with a wave of
his hand.

"But my dinners at Danny Reeves' place must cost a lot," protested
Uncle John.

"Surely not; Patsy has managed all that for a trifle, and the pleasure
of your company more than repays us for the bit of expense."

On Saturday night there was a pint of red wine for the two men, and
then the weekly cigars were brought—very inexpensive ones, to be
sure. The first whiff he took made Uncle John cough; but the Major
smoked so gracefully and with such evident pleasure that his
brother-in-law clung manfully to the cigar, and succeeded in consuming
it to the end.

"Tomorrow is the day of rest," announced Patsy, "so we'll all go for a
nice walk in the parks after breakfast."

"And we sleep 'till eight o'clock, don't we, Patsy?" asked the Major.

"Of course."

"And the eggs for breakfast?"

"I've bought them already, three for a nickle. You don't care for more
than one, do you, Uncle John?"

"No, my dear."

"It's our Sunday morning extra—an egg apiece. The Major is so fond of
them."

"And so am I, Patsy."

"And now we'll have our cribbage and get to bed early. Heigho! but
Sunday's a great day for folks that work."

Uncle John did not sleep well. Perhaps he had a guilty conscience.
Anyway, he tossed about a good deal on the sofa-bed in the
living-room, and wore himself out to such an extent that when Patsy
got up at eight o'clock her uncle had fallen into his first sound
sleep.

She never disturbed him until she had made the fire and cooked the
coffee and boiled the three white eggs. By this time the Major was
dressed and shaved, and he aroused Uncle John and bade him hurry into
the closet and make his toilet, "so that Patsy could put the house to
rights."

Uncle John obeyed eagerly, and was ready as soon as the Major had
brought the smoking rolls from the bakery. Ah, but it was a merry
breakfast; and a delicious one into the bargain. Uncle John seemed
hungry, and looked at the empty egg-shells regretfully.

"Next time, Patsy," he said, "you must buy six eggs."

"Look at his recklessness!" cried Patsy, laughing. "You're just as bad
as the Major, every bit. If you men hadn't me for a guardian you'd be
in the poorhouse in a month."

"But we have you, my dear," said Uncle John, smiling into her dancing
eyes; "so we won't complain at one egg instead of two."

Just then someone pounded on the door, and the girl ran to open it.
There was a messenger boy outside, looking smart and neat in his
blue-and-gold uniform, and he touched his cap politely to the girl.

"Miss Patricia Doyle?"

"That's me."

"A parcel for you. Sign here, please."

Patsy signed, bothering her head the while to know what the little
package contained and who could have sent it. Then the boy was gone,
and she came back slowly to the breakfast table, with the thing in her
hand.

"What is it, Patsy?" asked the Major, curiously.

"I'm dying to know, myself," said the girl.

Uncle John finished his coffee, looking unconcerned.

"A good way is to open it," remarked the Major.

It was a very neat package, wrapped in fine paper and sealed with red
wax. Patsy turned it over once or twice, and then broke the wax and
untied the cord.

A bunch of keys fell out first—seven of them, strung on a purple
ribbon—and then a flat, impressive looking letter was discovered.

The Major stared open-mouthed. Uncle John leaned back in his chair and
watched the girl's face.

"There's a mistake," said Patsy, quite bewildered. Then she read her
name upon the wrapper, quite plainly written, and shook her head.
"It's for me, all right. But what does it mean?"

"Why not read the letter?" suggested the Major.

So she opened the big envelope and unfolded the stiff paper and read
as follows:

"Miss Patricia Doyle, Becker's Flats, Duggan Street, New York. Dear
Miss Doyle: An esteemed client of our house, who desires to remain
unknown, has placed at your disposal the furnished apartments 'D,'
at 3708 Willing Square, for the period of three years, or as long
thereafter as you may care to retain them. Our client begs you to
consider everything the apartments contain as your own, and to use
it freely as it may please you. All rentals and rates are paid in
advance, and you are expected to take possession at once. Moreover,
our firm is commanded to serve you in any and every way you may
require, and it will be our greatest pleasure to be of use to you. The
keys to the apartments are enclosed herewith.

"Most respectfully,

"Isham, Marvin & Co."

Having read this to the end, in a weak voice and with many pauses,
Miss Patricia Doyle sat down in her chair with strange abruptness and
stared blankly at her father. The Major stared back. So did Uncle
John, when her eyes roved toward his face.

Patricia turned the keys over, and jingled them. Then she referred to
the letter again.

"Apartments D, at 3708 Willing Square. Where's that?"

The Major shook his head. So did Uncle John.

"Might look in a directory" suggested the latter, uncertainly.

"Of course," added the Major.

"But what does it all mean?" demanded Patsy, with sudden fierceness.
"Is it a joke? Isham, Marvin & Co., the great bankers! What do I know
of them, or they of me?"

"That isn't the point," observed the Major, reflectively. "Who's their
unknown and mysterious client? That's the question."

"To be sure," said Uncle John. "They're only the agents. You must have
a fairy godmother, Patsy."

She laughed at the idea, and shook her head.

"They don't exist in these days, Uncle John. But the whole thing must
be a joke, and nothing more."

"We'll discover that," asserted the Major, shrewdly scrutinizing
the letter, which he had taken from Patsy's hands. "It surely looks
genuine enough, on the face of it. I've seen the bank letter-head
before, and this is no forgery, you can take my word. Get your things
on, Patsy. Instead of walking in the park we'll hunt up Willing
Square, and we'll take the keys with us."

"A very good idea," said Uncle John. "I'd like to go with you, if I
may."

"Of course you may," answered the girl. "You're one of the family now,
Uncle John, and you must help us to unravel the mystery."

The Major took off his carpet slippers and pulled on his boots, while
Patricia was getting ready for the walk. Uncle John wandered around
the room aimlessly for a time, and then took off his black tie and put
on the white one.

Patsy noticed this, when she came out of her closet, and laughed
merrily.

"You mustn't be getting excited, Uncle John, until we see how this
wonderful adventure turns out." she said. "But I really must wash and
iron that necktie for you, if you're going to wear it on Sundays."

"Not a bad idea," said the Major. "But come, are we all ready?"

They walked down the rickety steps very gravely and sedately, Patsy
jingling the keys as they went, and made their way to the corner drug
store, where the Major searched in the directory for Willing Square.

To his surprise it proved to be only a few blocks away.

"But it's in the dead swell neighborhood," he explained, "where I have
no occasion to visit. We can walk it in five minutes."

Patsy hesitated.

"Really, it's no use going, Dad," she protested. "It isn't in reason
that I'd have a place presented me in a dead swell neighborhood. Now,
is it?"

"We'll have to go, just the same," said Uncle John. "I couldn't sleep
a wink tonight if we didn't find out what this all means."

"True enough," agreed the Major. "Come along, Patsy; it's this way."

Willing Square was not very big, but it was beautiful with flowers and
well tended and 3708 proved to be a handsome building with a white
marble front, situated directly on a corner. The Major examined it
critically from the sidewalk, and decided it contained six suites of
apartments, three on each side.

"D must be the second floor to the right." he said, "and that's a fine
location, sure enough."

A porter appeared at the front door, which stood open, and examined
the group upon the sidewalk with evident curiosity.

Patsy walked up to him, and ignoring the big gold figures over the
entrance she enquired:

"Is this 3708 Willing Square?"

"Yes, Miss," answered the porter; "are you Miss Doyle?"

"I am," she answered, surprised.

"One flight up, Miss, and turn to the right," he continued, promptly;
and then he winked over the girl's head at Uncle John, who frowned so
terribly that the man drew aside and disappeared abruptly. The Major
and Patsy were staring at one another, however, and did not see this
by-play.

"Let's go up," said the Major, in a husky voice, and proceeded to
mount the stairs.

Patsy followed close behind, and then came Uncle John. One flight up
they paused at a door marked "D", upon the panel of which was a rack
bearing a card printed with the word "Doyle."

"Well, well!" gasped the Major. "Who'd have thought it, at all at
all!"

Patsy, with trembling fingers, put a key in the lock, and after one or
two efforts opened the door.

The sun was shining brilliantly into a tiny reception hall, furnished
most luxuriously.

The Major placed his hat on the rack, and Uncle John followed suit.

No one spoke a word as they marched in humble procession into the
living-room, their feet pressing without sound into the thick rugs.
Everything here was fresh and new, but selected with excellent taste
and careful attention to detail. Not a thing; was lacking, from the
pretty upright piano to the enameled clock ticking upon the mantel.
The dining-room was a picture, indeed, with stained-glass windows
casting their soft lights through the draperies and the side-board
shining with silver and glass. There was a cellarette in one corner,
the Major noticed, and it was well stocked.

Beyond was a pantry with well filled shelves and then the
kitchen—this last filled with every article that could possibly
be needed. In a store-room were enough provisions to stock a
grocery-store and Patsy noted with amazement that there was ice in the
refrigerator, with cream and milk and butter cooling beside it.

They felt now as if they were intruding in some fairy domain. It was
all exquisite, though rather tiny; but such luxury was as far removed
from the dingy rooms they had occupied as could well be imagined. The
Major coughed and ahemmed continually; Patsy ah'd and oh'd and seemed
half frightened; Uncle John walked after them silently, but with a
pleased smile that was almost childish upon his round and rugged face.

Across the hall were three chambers, each with a separate bath, while
one had a pretty dressing-room added.

"This will be Patsy's room," said the Major, with a vast amount of
dignity.

"Of course," said Uncle John. "The pins on the cushion spell
'Patricia,' don't they?"