Uncle John went to the city every morning, and at first this
occasioned no remark. Patsy was too occupied to pay much attention to
her uncle's coming and going, and the Major was indifferent, being
busy admiring Patsy's happiness and congratulating himself on his own
good fortune.
The position at the bank had raised the good man's importance several
notches. The clerks treated him with fine consideration and the heads
of the firm were cordial and most pleasant. His fine, soldierly figure
and kindly, white-moustached face, conferred a certain dignity upon
his employers, which they seemed to respect and appreciate.
It was on Wednesday that the Major encountered the name of John
Merrick on the books. The account was an enormous one, running into
millions in stocks and securities. The Major smiled.
"That's Uncle John's name," he reflected. "It would please him to know
he had a namesake so rich as this one."
The next day he noted that John Merrick's holdings were mostly in
western canning industries and tin-plate factories, and again he
recollected that Uncle John had once been a tinsmith. The connection
was rather curious.
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