Aunt Janes Nieces on Vacation | Page 2

junction. He turned away and stared hard at the silent sleeper, the
appearance of which was not wholly unexpected.
"You haven't informed me who the nabobs are, nor why they choose to
be sidetracked in this forsaken stone-quarry," remarked the stranger,
eyeing the bleak hills around him in the growing light of dawn.
The agent hesitated. His first gruff resentment had been in a manner
disarmed and he dearly loved to talk, especially on so interesting a
subject as "the nabobs." He knew he could astonish the tramp, and the
temptation to do so was too strong to resist.
"It's the great John Merrick, who's got millions to burn but don't light
many bonfires," he began, not very graciously at first. "Two years ago
he bought the Cap'n Wegg farm, over by Millville, an'--"
"Where's Millville?" inquired the man.
"Seven mile back in the hills. The farm ain't nuthin' but cobblestone an'
pine woods, but--"

"How big is Millville?"
"Quite a town. Eleven stores an' houses, 'sides the mill an' a big
settlement buildin' up at Royal, where the new paper mill is jest started.
Royal's four mile up the Little Bill Hill."
"But about the nabob--Mr. Merrick, I think you called him?"
"Yes; John Merrick. He bought the Cap'n Wegg place an' spent summer
'fore last on it--him an' his three gals as is his nieces."
"Oh; three girls."
"Yes. Clever gals, too. Stirred things up some at Millville, I kin tell you,
stranger. Lib'ral an' good-natured, but able to hold their own with the
natives. We missed 'em, last year; but t'other day I seen ol' Hucks, that
keeps their house for 'em--he 'n' his wife--an' Hucks said they was
cumin' to spend this summer at the farm an' he was lookin' fer 'em any
day. The way they togged up thet farmhouse is somethin' won'erful, I'm
told. Hain't seen it, myself, but a whole carload o' furnitoor--an' then
some more--was shipped here from New York, an' Peggy McNutt, over
t' Millville, says it must 'a' cost a for-tun'."
The tramp nodded, somewhat listlessly.
"I feel quite respectable this morning, having passed the night as the
guest of a millionaire," he observed. "Mr. Merrick didn't know it, of
course, or he would have invited me inside."
"Like enough," answered the agent seriously. "The nabob's thet
reckless an' unaccountable, he's likely to do worse ner that. That's what
makes him an' his gals interestin'; nobody in quarries. How about
breakfast, friend Judkins?"
"That's my business an' not yourn. My missus never feeds tramps."
"Rather ungracious to travelers, eh?"
"Ef you're a traveler, go to the hoe-tel yonder an' buy your breakfas'

like a man."
"Thank you; I may follow your advice."
The agent walked up the track and put out the semaphore lights, for the
sun was beginning to rise over the hills. By the time he came back a
colored porter stood on the platform of the private car and nodded to
him.
"Folks up yit?" asked Judkins.
"Dressing, seh."
"Goin' ter feed 'em in there?"
"Not dis mohnin'. Dey'll breakfas' at de hotel. Carriage here yit?"
"Not yit. I s'pose ol' Hucks'll drive over for 'em," said the agent.
"Dey's 'spectin' some one, seh. As fer me, I gotta live heah all day, an' it
makes me sick teh think of it."
"Heh!" retorted the agent, scornfully; "you won't git sick. You're too
well paid fer that."
The porter grinned, and just then a little old gentleman with a rosy,
cheery face pushed him aside and trotted down the steps.
"Mornin', Judkins!" he cried, and shook the agent's hand. "What a
glorious sunrise, and what crisp, delicious air! Ah, but it's good to be in
old Chazy County again!"
The agent straightened up, his face wreathed with smiles, and cast an "I
told you so!" glance toward the man on the truck. But the stranger had
disappeared.
CHAPTER II
THE INVASION OF MILLVILLE

Over the brow of the little hill appeared a three-seated wagon, drawn by
a pair of handsome sorrels, and in a moment the equipage halted beside
the sleeper.
"Oh, Thomas Hucks--you dear, dear Thomas!" cried a clear, eager
voice, and out from the car rushed Miss Patricia Doyle, to throw her
arms about the neck of the old, stoop-shouldered and white-haired
driver, whose face was illumined by a joyous smile.
"Glad to see ye, Miss Patsy; right glad 'ndeed, child," returned the old
man. But others were waiting to greet him; pretty Beth De Graf and
dainty Louise Merrick--not Louise "Merrick" any longer, though, but
bearing a new name she had recently acquired--and demure Mary,
Patsy's little maid and an old friend of Thomas Hucks', and Uncle John
with his merry laugh and cordial handshake and, finally, a tall and
rather dandified young man who remained an