Edith Van Dyne - Aunt Janes Nieces on the Ranch

"And now," said Major Doyle, rubbing his hands together as he halfreclined in his big chair in a corner of the sitting room, "now we shallenjoy a nice cosy winter in dear New York."

"Cosy?" said his young daughter, Miss Patricia Doyle, raising her headfrom her sewing to cast a glance through the window at the whirlingsnowflakes.

"Ab-so-lute-ly cosy, Patsy, my dear," responded the major. "Here we arein our own steam-heated flatseven rooms and a bath, not counting theclosetshot water any time you turn the faucet; a telephone call bringsthe butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker; latest editions of thepapers chucked into the passage! What more do you want?"

"Tcha!"

This scornful ejaculation came from a little bald-headed man seated inthe opposite corner, who had been calmly smoking his pipe and dreamilyeyeing the flickering gas-log in the grate. The major gave a start andturned to stare fixedly at the little man. Patsy, scenting mischief,indulged in a little laugh as she threaded her needle.

"Sir! what am I to understand from that brutal interruption?" demandedMajor Doyle sternly.

"You're talking nonsense," was the reply, uttered in a tone of cheeryindifference. "New York in winter is a nightmare. Blizzards, thaws,hurricanes, ice, la grippe, shiversgrouches."

"Drumsticks!" cried the major indignantly. "It's the finest climate inthe worldbar none. We've the finest restaurants, the best theatres,the biggest stores andand the stock exchange. And then, there'sBroadway! What more can mortal desire, John Merrick?"

The little man laughed, but filled his pipe without reply.

"Uncle John is getting uneasy," observed Patsy. "I've noticed it forsome time. This is the first snowstorm that has caught him in New Yorkfor several years."

"The blizzard came unusually early," said Mr. Merrick apologetically."It took me by surprise. But I imagine there will be a few days more ofdecent weather before winter finally sets in. By that time"

"Well, what then?" asked the major in defiant accents, as hisbrother-in-law hesitated.

"By that time we shall be out of it, of course," was the quiet reply.

Patsy looked at her uncle reflectively, while the major grunted andshifted uneasily in his chair. Father and daughter were alike devoted toJohn Merrick, whose generosity and kindliness had rescued them frompoverty and thrust upon them all the comforts they now enjoyed. Eventhis pretty flat building in Willing Square, close to the fashionableNew York residence district, belonged in fee to Miss Doyle, it havingbeen a gift from her wealthy uncle. And Uncle John made his home withthem, quite content in a seven-room-flat when his millions might havepurchased the handsomest establishment in the metropolis. Down in WallStreet and throughout the financial districts the name of the great JohnMerrick was mentioned with awe; here in Willing Square he smoked a pipein his corner of the modest sitting room and cheerfully argued with hisirascible brother-in-law, Major Doyle, whose business it was to lookafter Mr. Merrick's investments and so allow the democratic littlemillionaire the opportunity to come and go as he pleased.

The major's greatest objection to Uncle John's frequent absences fromNew Yorkespecially during the winter monthswas due to the fact thathis beloved Patsy, whom he worshiped with a species of idolatry, usuallyaccompanied her uncle. It was quite natural for the major to resentbeing left alone, and equally natural for Patsy to enjoy these travelexperiences, which in Uncle John's company were always delightful.

Patsy Doyle was an unprepossessing little thing, at first sight. She wasshort of stature and a bit plump; freckled and red-haired; neat andwholesome in appearance but lacking "style" in either form or apparel.But to her friends Patricia was beautiful. Her big blue eyes,mischievous and laughing, won hearts without effort, and the girl was sogenuineso natural and unaffectedthat she attracted old and youngalike and boasted a host of admiring friends.

This girl was Uncle John's favorite niece, but not the only one. Beth DeGraf, a year younger than her cousin Patsy, was a ward of Mr. Merrickand lived with the others in the little flat at Willing Square. Beth wasnot an orphan, but her father and mother, residents of an Ohio town, hadtreated the girl so selfishly and inconsiderately that she had passed avery unhappy life until Uncle John took her under his wing and removedBeth from her depressing environment. This niece was as beautiful inform and feature as Patsy Doyle was plain, but she did not possessPatsy's cheerful and uniform temperament and was by nature reserved anddiffident in the presence of strangers.

Yet Beth had many good qualities, among them a heart-felt sympathy foryoung girls who were not so fortunate as herself. On this disagreeablewinter's day she had set out to visit a settlement school where she hadlong since proved herself the good angel of a score of struggling girls.The blizzard had developed since she left home, but no one worried abouther, for Beth was very resourceful.

There was another niece, likewise dear to John Merrick's heart, who hadbeen Louise Merrick before she married a youth named Arthur Weldon, sometwo years before this story begins. A few months ago Arthur had takenhis young wife to California, where he had purchased a fruit ranch, andthere a baby was born to them which they named "Jane Merrick Weldon"arather big name for what was admitted to be a very small person.

This baby, now five months old and reported to be thriving, had beenfrom its birth of tremendous interest to every inhabitant of the WillingSquare flat. It had been discussed morning, noon and night by Uncle Johnand the girls, while even the grizzled major was not ashamed to admitthat "that Weldon infant" was an important addition to the family.Perhaps little Jane acquired an added interest by being so far away fromall her relatives, as well as from the fact that Louise wrote suchglowing accounts of the baby's beauty and witcheries that to believe atithe of what she asserted was to establish the child as an infantilemarvel.

Now, Patsy Doyle knew in her heart that Uncle John was eager to seeLouise's baby, and long ago she had confided to Beth her belief that thewinter would find Mr. Merrick at Arthur Weldon's California ranch, withall his three nieces gathered around him and the infantile marvel in hisarms. The same suspicion had crept into Major Doyle's mind, and that iswhy he so promptly resented the suggestion that New York was not anideal winter resort. Somehow, the old major "felt in his bones" that hisbeloved Patsy would be whisked away to California, leaving her father toface the tedious winter without her; for he believed his business dutieswould not allow him to get away to accompany her.

Yet so far Uncle John, in planning for the winter, had not mentionedCalifornia as even a remote possibility. It was understood he would gosomewhere, but up to the moment when he declared "we will be out of it,of course, when the bad weather sets in," he had kept his own counseland forborne to express a preference or a decision.