"Take care that you do not get jealous of Myrtle," he replied.
"You're a selfish old beast, and don't wish Patsy to love anyone but
yourself."

"And why should she?" was the inquiry. "Any dutiful daughter ought to
be satisfied with loving such a father as I am."

"And in that," remarked Uncle John, whimsically, "you remind me of
Wampus. You should strut around and say: 'Behold me! I am Patsy's
father!'"

The Major was full of news at luncheon time.

"What do you think, my dears?" he said, addressing the girls. "Your
crazy uncle must have had another snooze, unbeknown to us, for he's
got the wildest idea into his head that human brains--or lack of
them--ever conceived."

"You are not very respectful, sir," retorted Mr. Merrick stiffly,
as he ate his salad. "But we must not expect too much of a disabled
soldier--and an Irishman to boot--who has not been accustomed to good
society."

Major Doyle looked at his brother-in-law with an approving smile.

"Very well put, John," he said. "You're improving in repartee.
Presently you'll add that I'm unlettered and uncivilized, and no fit
associate for a person who has made an egregious fortune out of tin
cans in the wilds of Oregon."