Aunt Janes Nieces in Society | Page 3

her individual characteristic way, and
well worthy their doting uncle's affectionate admiration. Mrs. Merrick
had recited some of the advantages they had derived from the advent of
this rich relative; but even she could not guess how devoted the man
was to the welfare of these three fortunate girls, nor how his kindly,
simple heart resented the insinuation that he was neglecting anything
that might contribute to their happiness.
Possession of money had never altered John Merrick's native simplicity.
He had no extravagant tastes, dressed quietly and lived the life of the
people. On this eventful morning the man of millions took a cross-town
car to the elevated station and climbed the stairs to his train. Once
seated and headed cityward he took out his memorandum book to see
what engagements he had for the day. There were three for the
afternoon. At twelve o'clock he had promised to meet Von Taer.
"H-m-m. Von Taer."
Gazing reflectively from the window he remembered a conversation
with a prominent banker some month or so before. "Von Taer," the
banker had said, "is an aristocrat with an independent fortune, who
clings to the brokerage business because he inherited it from his father
and grandfather. I hold that such a man has no moral right to continue

in business. He should retire and give the other fellow a chance."
"Why do you call him an aristocrat?" Mr. Merrick had enquired.
"Because his family is so ancient that it shames the ark itself. I imagine
his ancestors might have furnished Noah the lumber to build his ship.
In New York the '400' all kowtow to Von Taer."
"Seems to me he has the right to be a broker if he wants to," asserted
Mr. Merrick.
"The right; yes. But, between us, Mr. Merrick, this society swell has no
mental capacity to handle such an uncertain business. He's noted for
doing unwarranted things. To me it's a marvel that Von Taer hasn't
shipwrecked the family fortunes long ago. Luck has saved him, not
foresight."
That speech of a few weeks ago now seemed prophetic to John Merrick.
Within a few days the aristocratic broker had encountered financial
difficulties and been forced to appeal to Mr. Merrick, to whom he
obtained an introduction through a mutual friend. Von Taer was
doubtless solvent, for he controlled large means; but unless a saving
hand was extended at this juncture his losses were sure to be severe,
and might even cripple him seriously.
All this Mr. Merrick shrewdly considered in the space of a few
moments. As he left the train he looked at his watch and found it was
barely eleven. He decided not to await the hour of appointment. With
his usual brisk stride he walked to Von Taer's offices and was promptly
admitted to the broker's sanctum.
Hedrik Von Taer was a fine looking man, tall, grave, of dignified
demeanor and courteous manners. He stood until his visitor was seated
and with a gesture of deference invited him to open the conversation.
"I've decided to make you the loan, Von Taer," began Mr. Merrick, in
his practical, matter-of-fact way. "Three hundred thousand, wasn't it?
Call on Major Doyle at my office this afternoon and he'll arrange it for

you."
An expression of relief crossed the broker's face.
"You are very kind, sir," he answered. "I assure you I fully appreciate
the accommodation."
"Glad to help you," responded the millionaire, briskly. Then he paused
with marked abruptness. It occurred to him he had a difficult
proposition to make to this man. To avoid the cold, enquiring eyes now
fixed upon him he pulled out a cigar and deliberately cut the end. Von
Taer furnished him a match. He smoked a while in silence.
"This loan, sir," he finally began, "is freely made. There are no strings
tied to it. I don't want you to feel I'm demanding any sort of return. But
the truth is, you have it in your power to grant me a favor."
Von Taer bowed.
"Mr. Merrick has generously placed me under an obligation it will
afford me pleasure to repay," said he. But his eyes held an uneasy look,
nevertheless.
"It's this way," explained the other: "I've three nieces--fine girls, Von
Taer--who will some day inherit my money. They are already
independent, financially, and they're educated, well-bred and amiable
young women. Take my word for it."
"I am sure your statements are justified, Mr. Merrick." Yet Hedrik Von
Taer's face, usually unexpressive, denoted blank mystification. What
connection could these girls have with the favor to be demanded?
"Got any girls yourself, Von Taer?"
"A daughter, sir. My only child.
"Grown up?"
"A young lady now, sir."

"Then you'll understand. I'm a plain uneducated man myself. Never
been any nearer swell society than a Fifth Avenue stage.