“Do,” said Uncle John. “I suppose you girls can get ready by Saturday?”
“Of course!” cried Patsy and Beth in one voice.
“Then I’ll make the reservations. Major Doyle, you will arrange your business to accompany us.”
“I won’t!”
“You will, or I’ll discharge you. You’re working for me, aren’t you?”
“I am, sir.”
“Then obey orders.”
[CHAPTER II—EL CAJON RANCH]
Uncle John always traveled comfortably and even luxuriously, but without ostentation. Such conveniences as were offered the general public he indulged in, but no one would suspect him of being a multi-millionaire who might have ordered a special train of private cars had the inclination seized him. A modest little man, who had made an enormous fortune in the far Northwest—almost before he realized it—John Merrick had never allowed the possession of money to deprive him of his simple tastes or to alter his kindly nature. He loved to be of the people and to mingle with his fellows on an equal footing, and nothing distressed him more than to be recognized by some one as the great New York financier. It is true that he had practically retired from business, but his huge fortune was invested in so many channels that his name remained prominent among men of affairs and this notoriety he was unable wholly to escape.
The trip to California was a delight because none of his fellow passengers knew his identity. During the three days’ jaunt from Chicago to Los Angeles he was recognized only as an engaging little man who was conducting a party of three charming girls, as well as a sedate, soldierly old gentleman, into the sunny Southland for a winter’s recreation.