We are accustomed to regard extreme wealth as the result of hard-headed shrewdness, not wholly divorced from unscrupulous methods, yet no one could accuse John Merrick or his representative with being other than kindly, simple-hearted and honest.  Uncle John says that he never intended to “get rich”; it was all the result of carelessness.  He had been so immersed in business that he failed to notice how fast his fortune was growing.  When he awoke to a realization of his immense accumulation he promptly retired, appointing Major Doyle to look after his investments and seeking personal leisure after many years of hard work.  He instructed his agent to keep his income from growing into more capital by rendering wise assistance to all worthy charities and individuals, and this, as you may suppose, the Major found a herculean task.  Often he denounced Uncle John for refusing to advise him, claiming that the millionaire had selfishly thrust the burden of his wealth on the Major’s broad shoulders.  While there was an element of truth in this the burden it was not so heavy as to make the old soldier unhappy, and the two men loved and respected one another with manly cordiality.

Patricia was recognized as Uncle John’s favorite niece and it was understood she was to inherit the bulk of his property, although some millions might be divided between Beth and Louise “if they married wisely.”  Neither Uncle John nor the Major ever seemed to consider Patsy’s marrying; she was such a child that wedlock for her seemed a remote possibility.

The Sunday afternoon following Diana Von Taer’s visit to the three nieces found the girls all congregated in Patsy’s own room, where an earnest discussion was being conducted.  That left Uncle John to take his after-dinner nap in the big Morris chair in the living room, where Major Doyle sat smoking-sulkily while he gazed from the window and begrudged the moments Patsy was being kept from him.

Finally the door opened and the three girls trooped out.

“Huh!  Is the conspiracy all cut-an’-dried?” growled the Major.

Uncle John woke up with a final snort, removed the newspaper from his face and sat up.  He smiled benignantly upon his nieces.

“It’s all your fault, sor!” declared Major Doyle, selecting the little millionaire as the safest recipient of his displeasure.  “Your foolishness has involved us all in this dreadful complication.  Why on earth couldn’t you leave well-enough alone?”

Uncle John received the broadside with tolerant equanimity.

“What’s wrong; my dears?” he enquired, directing his mild glance toward the bevy of young girls.

“I am unaware that anything is wrong, Uncle,” replied Louise gravely.  “But since we are about to make our debut in society it is natural we should have many things to discuss that would prove quite uninteresting to men.  Really, Uncle John, this is a great event—­perhaps the most important event of our lives.”