A TALE OF WOE
That evening after dinner, as Mr. Merrick sat alone in the hotel lobby, the girls having gone to watch the Major bowl tenpins, Mr. Jones approached and sat down in the chair beside him.
Uncle John greeted the man with an attempt at cordiality. He could not yet bring himself to like his personality, but on Myrtle's account and because he was himself generous enough to wish to be of service to anyone so forlorn and unhappy, he treated Mr. Jones with more respect than he really thought he deserved.
"Tell me, Mr. Merrick," was the abrupt request, "where you found
Myrtle Dean."
Uncle John told him willingly. There was no doubt but Myrtle had interested the man.
"My girls found her on the train between Chicago and Denver," he began. "She was on her way to join her uncle in Leadville."
"What is her uncle's name?"
"Anson Jones. But the child was almost helpless, ill and without friends or money. She was not at all sure her uncle was still in Leadville, in which case she would be at the mercy of a cold world. So I telegraphed and found that Anson Jones had been gone from the mining camp for several months. Do you know, sir, I at first suspected you might be the missing uncle? For I heard you were a miner and found that your name is Jones. But I soon discovered you are not Anson Jones, but C.B. Jones—which alters the case considerably."
Mr. Jones nodded absently.
"Tell me the rest," he said.