Aunt Janes Nieces Abroad | Page 8

Patsy and Elizabeth shopped for the next few days most strenuously
and delightfully. Sometimes their dainty cousin Louise joined them,
and the three girls canvassed gravely their requirements for a trip that
was as new to them as a flight to the moon. Naturally, they bought
much that was unnecessary and forgot many things that would have
been useful. You have to go twice to Europe to know what to take
along.
Louise needed less than the others, for her wardrobe was more
extensive and she already possessed all that a young girl could possibly
make use of. This niece, the eldest of Uncle John's trio, was vastly
more experienced in the ways of the world than the others, although as
a traveller she had no advantage of them. Urged thereto by her worldly
mother, she led a sort of trivial, butterfly existence, and her character
was decidedly superficial to any close observer. Indeed, her very
suavity and sweetness of manner was assumed, because it was so much
more comfortable and effective to be agreeable than otherwise. She was
now past seventeen years of age, tall and well formed, with a delicate
and attractive face which, without being beautiful, was considered
pleasant and winning. Her eyes were good, though a bit too shrewd,
and her light brown hair was fluffy as spun silk. Graceful of carriage,
gracious of manner, yet affecting a languor unsuited to her years,
Louise Merrick was a girl calculated to draw from the passing throng
glances of admiration and approval, and to convey the impression of
good breeding and feminine cleverness.
All this, however, was outward. Neither Patsy nor Beth displayed any
undue affection for their cousin, although all of the girls exhibited a fair
amount of cousinly friendship for one another. They had once been
thrown together under trying circumstances, when various qualities of
temperament not altogether admirable were liable to assert themselves.

Those events were too recent to be already forgotten, yet the girls were
generous enough to be considerate of each others' failings, and had
resolved to entertain no sentiment other than good will on the eve of
their departure for such a charming outing as Uncle John had planned
for them.
Mr. Merrick being a man, saw nothing radically wrong in the
dispositions of any of his nieces. Their youth and girlishness appealed
to him strongly, and he loved to have them by his side. It is true that he
secretly regretted Louise was not more genuine, that Beth was so
cynical and frank, and that Patsy was not more diplomatic. But he
reflected that he had had no hand in molding their characters, although
he might be instrumental in improving them; so he accepted the girls as
they were, thankful that their faults were not glaring, and happy to have
found three such interesting nieces to cheer his old age.
At last the preparations were complete. Tuesday arrived, and Uncle
John "corralled his females," as he expressed it, and delivered them
safely on board the staunch and comfortable ocean greyhound known
as the "Princess Irene," together with their bags and baggage, their
flowers and fruits and candy boxes and all those other useless
accessories to a voyage so eagerly thrust upon the departing travellers
by their affectionate but ill-advised friends.
Mrs. Merrick undertook the exertion of going to Hoboken to see her
daughter off, and whispered in the ear of Louise many worldly
admonitions and such bits of practical advice as she could call to mind
on the spur of the moment.
Major Gregory Doyle was there, pompous and straight of form and
wearing an assumed smile that was meant to assure Patsy he was
delighted at her going, but which had the effect of scaring the girl
because she at first thought the dreadful expression was due to
convulsions.
The Major had no admonitions for Patsy, but she had plenty for him,
and gave him a long list of directions that would, as he said, cause him
to "walk mighty sthraight" if by good luck he managed to remember

them all.
Having made up his mind to let the child go to Europe, the old fellow
allowed no wails or bemoanings to reach Patsy's ears to deprive her of
a moment's joyful anticipation of the delights in store for her. He
laughed and joked perpetually during that last day, and promised the
girl that he would take a vacation while she was gone and visit his old
colonel in Virginia, which she knew was the rarest pleasure he could
enjoy. And now he stood upon the deck amusing them all with his
quaint sayings and appearing so outwardly jolly and unaffected that
only Patsy herself suspected the deep grief that was gripping his kindly
old heart.
Uncle John guessed, perhaps, for he