Aunt Janes Nieces in the Red Cross | Page 4

a fairy tale," said Beth with a shudder. "It's more like a horrible

nightmare."
"I can't bear to read about it any more," he returned, musingly. "In fact,
I've only been able to catch rumors of the progress of the war in the
various ports at which I've touched, and I came right here from my ship.
But I've no sympathy with either side. The whole thing annoys me,
somehow--the utter uselessness and folly of it all."
"Maubeuge has fallen," said Beth, and went on to give him the latest
tidings. Finding that the war was the absorbing topic in this little
household, the boy developed new interest in it and the morning passed
quickly away.
Jones stayed to lunch and then Mr. Merrick's automobile took them all
to the river to visit the beautiful yacht Arabella, which was already,
they found, attracting a good deal of attention in the harbor, where
beautiful yachts are no rarity.
The Arabella was intended by her builders for deep sea transit and as
Patsy admiringly declared, "looked like a baby liner." While she was
yacht-built in all her lines and fittings, she was far from being merely a
pleasure craft, but had been designed by the elder Jones, the boy's
father, to afford communication between the Island of Sangoa, in the
lower South Seas, and the continent of America.
Sangoa is noted for its remarkable pearl fisheries, which were now
owned and controlled entirely by this youth; but his father, an
experienced man of affairs, had so thoroughly established the business
of production and sale that little remained for his only son and heir to
do, more than to invest the profits that steadily accrued and to care for
the great fortune left him. Whether he was doing this wisely or not no
one--not even his closest friends--could tell. But he was frank and
friendly about everything else.
They went aboard the Arabella and were received by that grim and
grizzled old salt, Captain Carg, with the same wooden indifference he
always exhibited. But Patsy detected a slight twinkle in the shrewd gray
eyes that made her feel they were welcome. Carg, a seaman of vast

experience, was wholly devoted to his young master. Indeed, the girls
suspected that young Jones was a veritable autocrat in his island, as
well as aboard his ship. Everyone of the Sangoans seemed to accept his
dictation, however imperative it might be, as a matter of course, and the
gray old captain--who had seen much of the world--was not the least
subservient to his young master.
On the other hand, Jones was a gentle and considerate autocrat,
unconsciously imitating his lately deceased father in his kindly interest
in the welfare of all his dependents. These had formerly been free-born
Americans, for when the Island of Sangoa was purchased it had no
inhabitants.
This fortunate--or perhaps unfortunate--youth had never been blessed
with a given name, more than the simple initial "A." The failure of his
mother and father to agree upon a baptismal name for their only child
had resulted in a deadlock; and, as the family claimed a direct descent
from the famous John Paul Jones, the proud father declared that to be
"a Jones" was sufficient honor for any boy; hence he should be known
merely as "A. Jones." The mother called her child by the usual
endearing pet names until her death, after which the islanders dubbed
the master's son--then toddling around in his first trousers--"Ajo," and
the name had stuck to him ever since for want of a better one.
With the Bohemian indifference to household routine so characteristic
of New Yorkers, the party decided to dine at a down-town restaurant
before returning to Willing Square, and it was during this entertainment
that young Jones first learned of the expected arrival of Maud Stanton
on the following morning. But he was no wiser than the others as to
what mission could have brought the girl to New York so suddenly that
a telegram was required to announce her coming.
"You see, I left Los Angeles weeks ago," the boy explained, "and at
that time Mrs. Montrose and her nieces were busy as bees and much
too occupied to pay attention to a drone like me. There was no hint then
of their coming East, but of course many things may have happened in
the meantime."

The young fellow was so congenial a companion and the girls were so
well aware of his loneliness, through lack of acquaintances, that they
carried him home with them to spend the evening. When he finally left
them, at a late hour, it was with the promise to be at the station next
morning to meet Maud Stanton on her arrival.
CHAPTER II
THE ARRIVAL OF THE GIRL
A sweet-faced girl, very