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AUNT JANE'S NIECES ABROAD
by
EDITH VAN DYNE
Author of
"Aunt Jane's Nieces," "Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville,"
"Aunt Jane's Nieces in Society," etc.
Publishers
The Reilly & Britton Co.
Chicago
1906
* * * * *
The Aunt Jane's Nieces Series
BOOKS FOR GIRLS
By EDITH VAN DYNE
[Illustration]
SEVEN TITLES
_Aunt Jane's Nieces_
_Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad_
_Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville_
_Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work_
_Aunt Jane's Nieces in Society_
_Aunt Jane's Nieces and Uncle John_
_Aunt Jane's Nieces on Vacation_
* * * * *
Distinctly girls' books and yet stories that will appeal to
_brother_ as well--and to older folk. Real and
vital--rousing stories of the experiences and exploits of
three real girls who do things. Without being sensational,
Mrs. Van Dyne has succeeded in writing a series of stories
that have the tug and stir of fresh young blood in them.
Each story is complete in itself.
Illustrated 12mo. Uniform cloth binding, stamped in colors,
with beautiful colored inlay. Fancy colored jackets. Price
60 cents each
* * * * *
LIST OF CHAPTERS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE DOYLES ARE ASTONISHED 1
II. UNCLE JOHN MAKES PLANS 12
III. "ALL ASHORE!" 24
IV. SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES AND A WARNING 36
V. VESUVIUS RAMPANT 54
VI. UNDER A CLOUD 57
VII. A FRIEND IN NEED 69
VIII. ACROSS THE BAY 76
IX. COUNT FERRALTI 85
X. THE ROAD TO AMALFI 94
XI. THE EAGLE SCREAMS 110
XII. MOVING ON 120
XIII. "IL DUCA" 137
XIV. UNCLE JOHN DISAPPEARS 153
XV. DAYS OF ANXIETY 169
XVI. TATO 180
XVII. THE HIDDEN VALLEY 189
XVIII. THE GUESTS OF THE BRIGAND 202
XIX. A DIFFICULT POSITION 217
XX. UNCLE JOHN PLAYS EAVESDROPPER 228
XXI. THE PIT 241
XXII. NEWS AT LAST 250
XXIII. BETH BEGINS TO PLOT 263
XXIV. PATSY'S NEW FRIEND 272
XXV. TURNING THE TABLES 283
XXVI. THE COUNT UNMASKS 292
XXVII. TATO IS ADOPTED 304
XXVIII. DREAMS AND DRESS-MAKING 312
XXIX. TATO WINS 326
XXX. A WAY TO FORGET 337
XXXI. SAFE HOME 345
[Illustration]
PREFATORY:
The author is pleased to be able to present a sequel to "Aunt Jane's
Nieces," the book which was received with so much favor last year. Yet
it is not necessary one should have read the first book to fully
understand the present volume, the characters being taken to entirely
new scenes.
The various foreign localities are accurately described, so that those
who have visited them will recognize them at once, while those who have
not been so fortunate may acquire a clear conception of them. It was my
good fortune to be an eye witness of the recent great eruption of
Vesuvius.
Lest I be accused of undue sensationalism in relating the somewhat
dramatic Sicilian incident, I will assure my reader that the story does
not exaggerate present conditions in various parts of the island. In
fact, Il Duca and Tato are drawn from life, although they did not have
their mountain lair so near to Taormina as I have ventured to locate
it. Except that I have adapted their clever system of brigandage to the
exigencies of this story, their history is truly related. Many who have
travelled somewhat outside the beaten tracks in Sicily will frankly
vouch for this statement.
Italy is doing its best to suppress the Mafia and to eliminate
brigandage from the beautiful islands it controls, but so few of the
inhabitants are Italians or in sympathy with the government that the
work of reformation is necessarily slow. Americans, especially, must
exercise caution in travelling in any part of Sicily; yet with proper
care not to tempt the irresponsible natives, they are as safe in Sicily
as they are at home.
Aunt Jane's nieces are shown to be as frankly adventurous as the average
clear headed American girl, but their experiences amid the environments
of an ancient and still primitive civilization are in no wise
extraordinary.
EDITH VAN DYNE.
CHAPTER I
THE DOYLES ARE ASTONISHED
It was Sunday afternoon in Miss Patricia Doyle's pretty flat at 3708
Willing Square. In the small drawing room Patricia--or Patsy, as she
preferred to be called--was seated at the piano softly playing the one
"piece" the music teacher had succeeded in drilling into her flighty
head by virtue of much patience and perseverance. In a thick cushioned
morris-chair reclined the motionless form of Uncle John, a chubby little
man in a gray suit, whose features were temporarily eclipsed by the
newspaper that was spread carefully over them. Occasionally a gasp or a
snore from beneath the paper suggested that the little man was
"snoozing" as he sometimes gravely called it, instead of listening to
the music.
Major Doyle sat opposite, stiffly erect, with his admiring eyes full
upon Patsy. At times he drummed upon the arms of his chair in unison
with the music, nodding his grizzled head to mark the time as well as to
emphasize his evident approbation. Patsy had played this same piece from
start to finish seven times since dinner, because it was the only one
she knew; but the Major could have listened to it seven hundred times
without the flicker of an eyelash. It was not that he admired so much
the "piece" the girl was playing as the girl who was playing the
"piece." His pride in Patsy was unbounded. That she should have
succeeded at all in mastering that imposing looking instrument--making
it actually "play chunes"--was surely a thing to wonder at. But then,
Patsy could do anything, if she but tried.
Suddenly Uncle John gave a dreadful snort and sat bolt upright, gazing
at his companions with a startled look that melted into one of benign
complacency as he observed his surroundings and realized where he was.
The interruption gave Patsy an opportunity to stop playing the tune. She
swung around on the stool and looked with amusement at her newly
awakened uncle.
"You've been asleep," she said.
"No, indeed; quite a mistake," replied the little man, seriously. "I've
only been thinking."
"An' such _beaut_chiful thoughts," observed the Major, testily, for he
resented the interruption of his Sunday afternoon treat. "You thought
'em aloud, sir, and the sound of it was a bad imithation of a bullfrog
in a marsh. You'll have to give up eating the salad, sir."
"Bah! don't I know?" asked Uncle John, indignantly.
"Well, if your knowledge is better than our hearing, I suppose you do,"
retorted the Major. "But to an ignorant individual like meself the
impression conveyed was that you snored like a man that has forgotten
his manners an' gone to sleep in the prisence of a lady."
"Then no one has a better right to do that," declared Patsy, soothingly;
"and I'm sure our dear Uncle John's thoughts were just the most
beautiful dreams in the world. Tell us of them, sir, and we'll prove the
Major utterly wrong."
Even her father smiled at the girl's diplomacy, and Uncle John, who was
on the verge of unreasonable anger, beamed upon her gratefully.
"I'm going to Europe," he said.
The Major gave an involuntary start, and then turned to look at him
curiously.
"And I'm going to take Patsy along," he continued, with a mischievous
grin.
The Major frowned.
"Conthrol yourself, sir, until you are fully awake," said he. "You're
dreaming again."
Patsy swung her feet from side to side, for she was such a little thing
that the stool raised her entirely off the floor. There was a thoughtful
look on her round, freckled face, and a wistful one in her great blue
eyes as the full meaning of Uncle John's abrupt avowal became apparent.
The Major was still frowning, but a half frightened expression had
replaced the one of scornful raillery. For he, too, knew that his
eccentric brother-in-law was likely to propose any preposterous thing,
and then carry it out in spite of all opposition. But to take Patsy to
Europe would be like pulling the Major's eye teeth or amputating his
good right arm. Worse; far worse! It would mean taking the sunshine out
of her old father's sky altogether, and painting it a grim, despairing
gray.
But he resolved not to submit without a struggle.
"Sir," said he, sternly--he always called his brother-in-law "sir" when
he was in a sarcastic or reproachful mood--"I've had an idea for some
time that you were plotting mischief. You haven't looked me straight in
the eye for a week, and you've twice been late to dinner. I will ask you
to explain to us, sir, the brutal suggestion you have just advanced."
Uncle John laughed. In the days when Major Doyle had thought him a poor
man and in need of a helping hand, the grizzled old Irishman had
