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AUNT JANE’S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN

“Something is happening to me, for I can’t find the rest of this article. Something is happening to you, for you’re losing your temper.”

“I’m not, sir! I deny it.”

“As for Patsy,” continued the other, “she is sixteen years old and knows New York like a book. The girl is safe enough.”

“Then where is she? Tell me that, sir. Here it is, seven o’clock, dark as pitch and raining hard, and Patsy is never out after six. Can you, John Merrick, sit there like a lump o’ putty and do nothing, when your niece and my own darlin’ Patsy is lost—or strayed or stolen?”

“What would you propose doing?” asked Uncle John, looking up with a smile.

“We ought to get out the police department. it’s raining and cold, and—”

“Then we ought to get out the fire department. Call Mary to put on more coal and let’s have it warm and cheerful when Patsy comes in.”

“But, sir—”

“The trouble with you, Major, is that dinner is

half an hour late. One can imagine all sorts of

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