"Then, sir," concluded the Major, mopping the perspiration from his forehead and sitting down limply in his chair, "what do you mean by it?"
Patsy stood pale and trembling, her round eyes fixed upon her uncle's composed face.
"Uncle John!" she faltered.
"Yes, my dear."
"Is it all true? Are you so very rich?"
"Yes, my dear."
"And it's you that gave me this house, and—and everything else—and got the Major his fine job, and me discharged, and—and—"
"Of course, Patsy. Why not?"
"Oh, Uncle John!"
She threw herself into his arms, sobbing happily as he clasped her little form to his bosom. And the Major coughed and blew his nose, and muttered unintelligible words into his handkerchief. Then Patsy sprang up and rushed upon her father, crying;