LITMIR.BIZ

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seriously, “must be made of cast-iron, with clockwork stomachs.”

      Patsy gave one of her low, musical laughs.

      “I think I would like Bermuda,” she said. “Anyhow, whatever pleases Uncle John will please me, so long as we get away from New York.”

      “Why, ye female traitor!” cried the major; and added, for Uncle John’s benefit: “New York is admitted by men of discretion to be the modern Garden of Eden. It’s the one desideratum of – ”

      Here the door opened abruptly and Beth came in. Her cheeks were glowing red from contact with the wind and her dark tailor-suit glistened with tiny drops left by the melted snow. In her mittened hand she waved a letter.

      “From Louise, Patsy!” she exclaimed, tossing it toward her cousin; “but don’t you dare read it till I’ve changed my things.”

      Then she disappeared into an inner room and Patsy, disregarding the injunction, caught up the epistle and tore open the envelope.

      Uncle John refilled his pipe and looked at Patsy’s tense face inquiringly. The major stiffened, but could not wholly repress his curiosity. After a moment he said:

      “All well, Patsy?”

      “How’s the baby?” asked Uncle John.

      “Dear me!” cried Patsy, with a distressed face; “and no doctor nearer than five miles!”

      Both men leaped from their chairs.

      “Why don’t they keep a doctor in the house?” roared the major.

      “Suppose we send Dr. Lawson, right away!” suggested Uncle John.

      Patsy, still holding up the letter, turned her eyes upon them reproachfully.

      “It’s all over,” she said with a sigh.

      The major dropped into a chair, limp and inert. Uncle John paled.

      “The – the baby isn’t – dead!” he gasped.

      “No, indeed,” returned Patsy, again reading. “But it had colic most dreadfully, and Louise was in despair. But the nurse, a dark-skinned Mexican creature, gave it a dose of some horrid hot stuff – ”

      “Chile con carne, most likely!” ejaculated the major.

      “Horrible!” cried Uncle John.

      “And that cured the colic but almost burned poor little Jane’s insides out.”

      “Insides out!”

      “However, Louise says the dear baby is now quite well again,” continued the girl.

      “Perhaps so, when she wrote,” commented the major, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief; “but that’s a week ago, at least. A thousand things might have happened to that child since then. Why was Arthur Weldon such a fool as to settle in a desert place, far away from all civilization? He ought to be prosecuted for cruelty.”

      “The baby’s all right,” said Patsy, soothingly. “If anything serious happened, Louise would telegraph.”

      “I doubt it,” said the major, walking the floor. “I doubt if there’s such a thing as a telegraph in all that forsaken country.”

      Uncle John frowned.

      “You are getting imbecile, Major. They’ve a lot more comforts and conveniences on that ranch than we have here in New York.”

      “Name ’em!” shouted the Major. “I challenge ye to mention one thing we haven’t right here in this flat.”

      “Chickens!” said Beth, re-entering the room in time to hear this challenge. “How’s the baby, Patsy?”

      “Growing like a weed, dear, and getting more lovely and cunning every second. Here – read the letter yourself.”

      While Beth devoured the news from California Uncle John replied to the major.

      “At El Cajon Ranch,” said he, “there’s a fine big house where the sunshine peeps in and floods the rooms every day in the year. Hear that blizzard howl outside, and think of the roses blooming this instant on the trellis of Louise’s window. Arthur has two automobiles and can get to town in twenty minutes. They’ve a long-distance telephone and I’ve talked with ’em over the line several times.”

      “You have!” This in a surprised chorus.

      “I have. Only last week I called Louise up.”

      “An expensive amusement, John,” said the major grimly.

      “Yes; but I figured I could afford it. I own some telephone stock, you know, so I may get part of that investment back. They have their own cows, and chickens – as Beth truly says – and any morning they can pick oranges and grapefruit from their own trees for breakfast.”

      “I’d like to see that precious baby,” remarked Beth, laying the letter on her lap to glance pleadingly at her uncle.

      “Uncle John is going to take us to Bermuda,” said Patsy in a serious voice.

      The little man flushed and sat down abruptly. The major, noting his attitude, became disturbed.

      “You’ve all made the California trip,” said he. “It doesn’t pay to see any country twice.”

      “But we haven’t seen Arthur’s ranch,” Beth reminded him.

      “Nor the baby,” added Patsy, regarding the back of Uncle John’s head somewhat wistfully.

      The silence that followed was broken only by the major’s low growls. The poor man already knew his fate.

      “That chile-con-carne nurse ought to be discharged,” mumbled Uncle John, half audibly. “Mexicans are stupid creatures to have around. I think we ought to take with us an experienced nurse, who is intelligent and up-to-date.”

      “Oh, I know the very one!” exclaimed Beth. “Mildred Travers. She’s perfectly splendid. I’ve watched her with that poor girl who was hurt at the school, and she’s as gentle and skillful as she is refined. Mildred would bring up that baby to be as hearty and healthful as a young savage.”

      “How soon could she go?” asked Uncle John.

      “At an hour’s notice, I’m sure. Trained nurses are used to sudden calls, you know. I’ll see her to-morrow – if it’s better weather.”

      “Do,” said Uncle John. “I suppose you girls can get ready by Saturday?”

      “Of course!” cried Patsy and Beth in one voice.

      “Then I’ll make the reservations. Major Doyle, you will arrange your business to accompany us.”

      “I won’t!”

      “You will, or I’ll discharge you. You’re working for me, aren’t you?”

      “I am, sir.”

      “Then obey orders.”

      CHAPTER II – EL CAJON RANCH

      Uncle John always traveled comfortably and even luxuriously, but without ostentation. Such conveniences as were offered the general public he indulged in, but no one would suspect him of being a multi-millionaire who might have ordered a special train of private cars had the inclination seized him. A modest little man, who had made an enormous fortune in the far Northwest – almost before he realized it – John Merrick had never allowed the possession of money to deprive him of his simple tastes or to alter his kindly nature. He loved to be of the people and to mingle with his fellows on an equal footing, and nothing distressed him more than to be recognized by some one as the great New York financier. It is true that he had practically retired from business, but his huge fortune was invested in so many channels that his name remained prominent among men of affairs and this notoriety he was unable wholly to escape.

      The trip to California was a delight because none of his fellow passengers knew his identity. During the three days’ jaunt from Chicago to Los Angeles he was recognized only as an engaging little man who

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