Mr. Merrick being a man, saw nothing radically wrong in the dispositions of any of his nieces.  Their youth and girlishness appealed to him strongly, and he loved to have them by his side.  It is true that he secretly regretted Louise was not more genuine, that Beth was so cynical and frank, and that Patsy was not more diplomatic.  But he reflected that he had had no hand in molding their characters, although he might be instrumental in improving them; so he accepted the girls as they were, thankful that their faults were not glaring, and happy to have found three such interesting nieces to cheer his old age.

At last the preparations were complete.  Tuesday arrived, and Uncle John “corralled his females,” as he expressed it, and delivered them safely on board the staunch and comfortable ocean greyhound known as the “Princess Irene,” together with their bags and baggage, their flowers and fruits and candy boxes and all those other useless accessories to a voyage so eagerly thrust upon the departing travellers by their affectionate but ill-advised friends.

Mrs. Merrick undertook the exertion of going to Hoboken to see her daughter off, and whispered in the ear of Louise many worldly admonitions and such bits of practical advice as she could call to mind on the spur of the moment.

Major Gregory Doyle was there, pompous and straight of form and wearing an assumed smile that was meant to assure Patsy he was delighted at her going, but which had the effect of scaring the girl because she at first thought the dreadful expression was due to convulsions.

The Major had no admonitions for Patsy, but she had plenty for him, and gave him a long list of directions that would, as he said, cause him to “walk mighty sthraight” if by good luck he managed to remember them all.

Having made up his mind to let the child go to Europe, the old fellow allowed no wails or bemoanings to reach Patsy’s ears to deprive her of a moment’s joyful anticipation of the delights in store for her.  He laughed and joked perpetually during that last day, and promised the girl that he would take a vacation while she was gone and visit his old colonel in Virginia, which she knew was the rarest pleasure he could enjoy.  And now he stood upon the deck amusing them all with his quaint sayings and appearing so outwardly jolly and unaffected that only Patsy herself suspected the deep grief that was gripping his kindly old heart.

Uncle John guessed, perhaps, for he hugged the Major in a tight embrace, whispering that Patsy should be now, as ever, the apple of his eye and the subject of his most loving care.

“An’ don’t be forgetting to bring me the meerschaum pipe from Sicily an’ the leathern pocket-book from Florence,” the Major said to Patsy, impressively.  “It’s little enough for ye to remember if ye go that way, an’ to tell the truth I’m sending ye abroad just for to get them.  An’ don’t be gettin’ off the boat till it stops at a station; an’ remember that Uncle John is full of rheumatics an’ can’t walk more n’ thirty mile an hour, an’—­”