ain't John Merrick. A chaperone, indeed!"

Mrs. Merrick held up her hands in horror.

"I'm not sure, John," she gasped, "that I ought to trust my dear child
with an uncle who disregards so openly the proprieties."

"Well, I'm sure; and the thing's settled," he said, more calmly. "Don't
worry, ma'am. I'll look after Patsy and Beth, and Louise will look after
all of us--just as she does after you--because she's so discreet. Talk
about your being a chaperone! Why, you don't dare say your soul's your
own when Louise is awake. That chaperone business is all
humbuggery--unless an old uncle like me can be a chaperone. Anyhow, I'm
the only one that's going to be appointed. I won't wait for Louise to
wake up. Just tell her the news and help her to get ready on time. And
now, I'm off. Good morning, Martha."

She really had no words of protest ready at hand, and it was long after
queer old John Merrick had gone away that she remembered a dozen
effective speeches that she might have delivered.

"After all," she sighed, taking up her cup again, "it may be the best
thing in the world for Louise. We don't know whether that young Weldon,
who is paying her attentions just now, is going to inherit his father's
money or not. He's been a bit wild, I've heard, and it is just as well
to postpone any engagement until we find out the facts. I can do that
nicely while my sweet child is in Europe with Uncle John, and away from
all danger of entanglements. Really, it's an ill wind that blows no
good! I'll go talk with Louise."