"
"Nonsense," said Uncle John, lighting his old briar pipe, "you've been
deceiving yourselves."
"Didn't you convey the impression that you were poor?" demanded the
Major, sternly.
"No."
"Didn't you let Patsy take away your thirty-two dollars and forty-two
cents, thinking it was all you had?"
"Yes."
"Aren't you worth millions and millions of dollars--so many that you
can't count them yourself?"
"Perhaps."
"Then, sir," concluded the Major, mopping the perspiration from his
forehead and sitting down limply in his chair, "what do you mean by
it?"
Patsy stood pale and trembling, her round eyes fixed upon her uncle's
composed face.
"Uncle John!" she faltered.
"Yes, my dear."
"Is it all true? Are you so very rich?"
"Yes, my dear."
"And it's you that gave me this house, and--and everything else--and
got the Major his fine job, and me discharged, and--and--"
"Of course, Patsy. Why not?"
"Oh, Uncle John!"
She threw herself into his arms, sobbing happily as he clasped her
little form to his bosom. And the Major coughed and blew his nose, and
muttered unintelligible words into his handkerchief.
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