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Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch
Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch
CHAPTER I – UNCLE JOHN DECIDES
“And now,” said Major Doyle, rubbing his hands together as he half reclined in his big chair in a corner of the sitting room, “now we shall enjoy a nice cosy winter in dear New York.”
“Cosy?” said his young daughter, Miss Patricia Doyle, raising her head from her sewing to cast a glance through the window at the whirling snowflakes.
“Ab-so-lute-ly cosy, Patsy, my dear,” responded the major. “Here we are in our own steam-heated flat – seven rooms and a bath, not counting the closets – hot water any time you turn the faucet; a telephone call brings the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker; latest editions of the papers chucked into the passage! What more do you want?”
“Tcha!”
This scornful ejaculation came from a little bald-headed man seated in the opposite corner, who had been calmly smoking his pipe and dreamily eyeing the flickering gas-log in the grate. The major gave a start and turned 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?” demanded Major Doyle sternly.
“You’re talking nonsense,” was the reply, uttered in a tone of cheery indifference. “New York in winter is a nightmare. Blizzards, thaws, hurricanes, ice, la grippe, shivers – grouches.”
“Drumsticks!” cried the major indignantly. “It’s the finest climate in the world – bar none. We’ve the finest restaurants, the best theatres, the biggest stores and – and the stock exchange. And then, there’s Broadway! 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 for some time. This is the first snowstorm that has caught him in New York for several years.”