Aunt Janes Nieces Out West | Page 3

how quick-witted and alert that
manager was, to catch us unawares and so add to the value of his
picture, I can quite forgive the fellow his audacity."
"It wasn't audacity so much as downright impudence!" persisted Beth.
"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Merrick. "Do you wish me to buy
that film and prevent the picture's being shown?"
"Oh, no!" cried Patsy in protest. "I'm dying to see how we look. I
wouldn't have that picture sidetracked for anything."
"And you, Beth?"
"Really, Uncle John, the thing is not worth worrying over," replied his
niece. "I am naturally indignant at being drawn into such a thing
against my will, but I doubt if anyone who knows us, or whose opinion
we value, will ever visit a moving picture theatre or see this film. The
common people will not recognize us, of course."
You must not think Beth de Graf was snobbish or aristocratic because
of this speech, which her cousin Patsy promptly denounced as

"snippy." Beth was really a lovable and sunny-tempered girl, very
democratic in her tastes in spite of the fact that she was the possessor of
an unusual fortune. She was out of sorts to-day, resentful of the fright
she had endured that morning and in the mood to say harsh things.
Even Patricia Doyle had been indignant, at first; but Patsy's judgment
was clearer than her cousin's and her nature more responsive. She
quickly saw the humorous side of their adventure and could enjoy the
recollection of her momentary fear.
These two girls were spending the winter months in the glorious
climate of Southern California, chaperoned by their uncle and guardian,
John Merrick. They had recently established themselves at a cosy hotel
in Hollywood, which is a typical California village, yet a suburb of the
great city of Los Angeles. A third niece, older and now married--Louise
Merrick Weldon--lived on a ranch between Los Angeles and San Diego,
which was one reason why Uncle John and his wards had located in
this pleasant neighborhood.
To observe this trio--the simple, complacent little man and his two
young nieces--no stranger would suspect them to be other than ordinary
tourists, bent on escaping the severe Eastern winter; but in New York
the name of John Merrick was spoken with awe in financial circles,
where his many millions made him an important figure. He had
practically retired from active business and his large investments were
managed by his brother-in-law, Major Gregory Doyle, who was Miss
Patsy's father and sole surviving parent. All of Mr. Merrick's present
interest in life centered in his three nieces, and because Louise was
happily married and had now an establishment of her own--including a
rather new but very remarkable baby--Uncle John was drawn closer to
the two younger nieces and devoted himself wholly to their welfare.
The girls had not been rich when their fairy godfather first found them.
Indeed, each of them had been energetically earning, or preparing to
earn, a livelihood. Now, when their uncle's generosity had made them
wealthy, they almost regretted those former busy days of poverty, being
obliged to discover new interests in life in order to keep themselves
occupied and contented. All three were open-handed and open-hearted,

sympathetic to the unfortunate and eager to assist those who needed
money, as many a poor girl and worthy young fellow could testify. In
all their charities they were strongly supported by Mr. Merrick, whose
enormous income permitted him to indulge in many benevolences.
None gave ostentatiously, for they were simple, kindly folk who gave
for the pure joy of giving and begrudged all knowledge of their acts to
anyone outside their own little circle.
There is no doubt that John Merrick was eccentric. It is generally
conceded that a rich man may indulge in eccentricities, provided he
maintains a useful position in society, and Mr. Merrick's peculiarities
only served to render him the more interesting to those who knew him
best. He did astonishing things in a most matter-of-fact way and acted
more on impulse than on calm reflection; so it is not to be wondered at
that the queer little man's nieces had imbibed some of his queerness.
Being by nature lively and aggressive young women, whose eager
interest in life would not permit them to be idle, they encountered many
interesting experiences.
They had just come from a long visit to Louise at the ranch and after
conferring gravely together had decided to hide themselves in
Hollywood, where they might spend a quiet and happy winter in
wandering over the hills, in boating or bathing in the ocean or motoring
over the hundreds of miles of splendid boulevards of this section.
Singularly enough, their choice of a retreat was also the choice of a
score or more of motion