don this position; so the girls
accepted his proposal and visited their beloved cathedrals in charge of
a guide, whose well of information was practically inexhaustible if not
remarkable for its clarity.

The opera suited Uncle John better, and he freely revelled in the shops,
purchasing the most useless and preposterous things in spite of that
growing bugbear of the customs duties.

But finally this joyous holiday came to an end, as all good things will,
and they sailed from Cherbourg for New York.

Uncle John had six extra trunks, Patsy carried a French poodle that was
as much trouble as an infant in arms, and Louise engineered several
hat-boxes that could not be packed at the last minute. But the girls
embarked gay and rosy-cheeked and animated, and in spite of all the
excitement and pleasure that had attended their trip, not one of the
party was really sorry when the return voyage began.

CHAPTER XXXI

SAFE HOME

"To me," said Uncle John, as he stood on the deck and pointed proudly to
the statue of Liberty in New York harbor, "that is the prettiest sight
I've seen since I left home."

"Prettier than the old masters, Uncle?" asked Patsy, mischievously.

"Yes, or the cathedrals!" he retorted.

When they reached the dock there was the Major waiting to receive Patsy
in a new checked suit with a big flower in his button-hole and a broad
smile on his jolly face.

And there was Mrs. Merrick, too, with Arthur Weldon beside her, which
proved to Louise that he had succeeded in making his peace with her
mother. Also there were the stern-featured custom-house officials in
their uniforms, and the sight of them sent the cold chills flying down
Uncle John's spine.

There was no one present to receive Beth, but her uncle tucked her arm
underneath his own with a proud gesture and kept her close beside him.
For the girl had quite won his loving old heart on this trip, and she
seemed to him more mature and far sweeter than when they had left home.

But the greetings and the "brigandage" were soon over, and in good time
they were all assembled in the Doyle flat, where the joyous Major had
prepared an elaborate dinner to celebrate the return of the wanderers.

"We've a million pipes and pocket-books for you, daddy," whispered
Patsy, hugging him for the twentieth time; "and I've got a thousand
things to tell you about our adventures in strange lands."

"Save 'em till we're alone," said the Major; "they're too goo