Aunt Jane's Nieces

  CHAPTER III.

  PATSY.

  "Now, Major, stand up straight and behave yourself! How do you expectme to sponge your vest when you're wriggling around in that way?"

  "Patsy, dear, you're so sweet this evening, I just had to kiss yourlips."

  "Don't do it again, sir," replied Patricia, severely, as she scrubbedthe big man's waistcoat with a damp cloth. "And tell me, Major, howyou ever happened to get into such a disgraceful condition."

  "The soup just shpilled," said the Major, meekly.

  Patricia laughed merrily. She was a tiny thing, appearing to be nomore than twelve years old, although in reality she was sixteen. Herhair was a decided red--not a beautiful "auburn," but really red--andher round face was badly freckled. Her nose was too small and hermouth too wide to be beautiful, but the girl's wonderful blue eyesfully redeemed these faults and led the observer to forget all elsebut their fascinations. They could really dance, these eyes, and sendout magnetic, scintillating sparks of joy and laughter that werepotent to draw a smile from the sourest visage they smiled upon.Patricia was a favorite with all who knew her, but the big,white-moustached Major Doyle, her father, positively worshipped her,and let the girl rule him as her fancy dictated.

  "Now, sir, you're fairly decent again," she said, after a few vigorousscrubs. "So put on your hat and we'll go out to dinner."

  They occupied two small rooms at the top of a respectable butmiddle-class tenement building, and had to descend innumerable flightsof bare wooden stairs before they emerged upon a narrow streetthronged with people of all sorts and descriptions except those whowere too far removed from the atmosphere of Duggan street to know thatit existed.

  The big major walked stiffly and pompously along, swinging hissilver-trimmed cane in one hand while Patricia clung to his other arm.The child wore a plain grey cloak, for the evening was chill. She hada knack of making her own clothes, all of simple material and fashion,but fitting neatly and giving her an air of quiet refinement that mademore than one passer-by turn to look back at her curiously.

  After threading their way for several blocks they turned in at theopen door of an unobtrusive restaurant where many of the round whitetables were occupied by busy and silent patrons.

  The proprietor nodded to the major and gave Patricia a smile. Therewas no need to seat them, for they found the little table in thecorner where they were accustomed to eat, and sat down.

  "Did you get paid tonight?" asked the girl.

  "To be sure, my Patsy."

  "Then hand over the coin," she commanded.

  The major obeyed. She counted it carefully and placed it in herpocketbook, afterwards passing a half-dollar back to her father.

  "Remember, Major, no riotous living! Make that go as far as you can,and take care not to invite anyone to drink with you."

  "Yes, Patsy."

  "And now I'll order the dinner."

  The waiter was bowing and smiling beside her. Everyone smiled atPatsy, it seemed.

  They gave the usual order, and then, after a moment's hesitation, sheadded:

  "And a bottle of claret for the Major."

  Her father fairly gasped with amazement.

  "Patsy!"

  People at the near-by tables looked up as her gay laugh rang out, andbeamed upon her in sympathy.

  "I'm not crazy a bit. Major," said she, patting the hand he hadstretched toward her, partly in delight and partly in protest. "I'vejust had a raise, that's all, and we'll celebrate the occasion."

  Her father tucked the napkin under his chin then looked at herquestioningly.

  "Tell me, Patsy."

  "Madam Borne sent me to a swell house on Madison Avenue this morning,because all her women were engaged. I dressed the lady's hair inmy best style, Major, and she said it was much more becoming thanJuliette ever made it. Indeed, she wrote a note to Madam, asking herto send me, hereafter, instead of Juliette, and Madam patted my headand said I would be a credit to her, and my wages would be ten dollarsa week, from now on. Ten dollars. Major! As much as you earn yourselfat that miserable bookkeeping!"

  "Sufferin' Moses!" ejaculated the astonished major, staring back intoher twinkling eyes, "if this kapes on, we'll be millionaires, Patsy."

  "We're millionaires, now." responded Patsy, promptly, "because we'vehealth, and love, and contentment--and enough money to keep us fromworrying. Do you know what I've decided, Major, dear? You shall go tomake that visit to your colonel that you've so long wanted to have.The vacation will do you good, and you can get away all during July,because you haven't rested for five years. I went to see Mr. Conoverthis noon, and he said he'd give you the month willingly, and keep theposition for you when you returned."

  "What! You spoke to old Conover about me?"

  "This noon. It's all arranged, daddy, and you'll just have a glorioustime with the old colonel. Bless his dear heart, he'll be overjoyed tohave you with him, at last."

  The major pulled out his handkerchief, blew his nose vigorously, andthen surreptitiously wiped his eyes.

  "Ah, Patsy, Patsy; it's an angel you are, and nothing less at all, atall."

  "Rubbish, Major. Try your claret, and see if it's right. And eat yourfish before it gets cold. I'll not treat you again, sir, unless youtry to look happy. Why, you seem as glum as old Conover himself!"

  The major was positively beaming.

  "Would it look bad for me to kiss you, Patsy?"

  "Now?"

  "Now and right here in this very room!"

  "Of course it would. Try and behave, like the gentleman you are, andpay attention to your dinner!"

  It was a glorious meal. The cost was twenty-five cents a plate, butthe gods never feasted more grandly in Olympus than these two simple,loving souls in that grimy Duggan street restaurant.

  Over his coffee the major gave a sudden start and looked guiltily intoPatricia's eyes.

  "Now, then," she said, quickly catching the expression, "out with it."

  "It's a letter," said the major. "It came yesterday, or mayhap the daybefore. I don't just remember."

  "A letter! And who from?" she cried, surprised.

  "An ould vixen."

  "And who may that be?"

  "Your mother's sister Jane. I can tell by the emblem on the flap ofthe envelope," said he, drawing a crumpled paper from his breastpocket.

  "Oh, _that_ person," said Patsy, with scorn. "Whatever induced her towrite to _me?_" "You might read it and find out," suggested the major.

  Patricia tore open the envelope and scanned the letter. Her eyesblazed.

  "What is it, Mavoureen?"

  "An insult!" she answered, crushing the paper in her hand and thenstuffing it into the pocket of her dress. "Light your pipe, daddy,dear. Here--I'll strike the match."