Aunt Jane's Nieces in the Red Cross — Edith Van Dyne

"What's the news, Uncle?" asked Miss Patricia Doyle, as she entered the cosy breakfast room of a suite of apartments in Willing Square. Even as she spoke she pecked a little kiss on the forehead of the chubby man addressed as "Uncle"-none other, if you please, than the famous and eccentric multi-millionaire known in Wall Street as John Merrick-and sat down to pour the coffee. There was energy in her method of doing this simple duty, an indication of suppressed vitality that conveyed the idea that here was a girl accustomed to action. And she fitted well into the homely scene: short and somewhat "squatty" of form, red-haired, freckle-faced and pug-nosed. Wholesome rather than beautiful was Patsy Doyle, but if you caught a glimpse of her dancing blue eyes you straightway forgot her lesser charms. Quite different was the girl who entered the room a few minutes later. Hers was a dark olive complexion, face of exquisite contour, great brown eyes with a wealth of hair to match them and the flush of a rose in her rounded cheeks. The poise of her girlish figure was gracious and dignified as the bearing of a queen. "Morning, Cousin Beth," said Patsy cheerily. "Good morning, my dear," and then, with a trace of anxiety in her tone: "What is the news, Uncle John?" The little man had ignored Patsy's first question, but now he answered absently, his eyes still fixed upon the newspaper: