AUNT JANE’S NIECES ON THE RANCH BY EDITH VAN DYNE AUTHOR OF AUNT JANE’S NIECES SERIES THE FLYING GIRL SERIES, ETC., ETC. The Reilly & Lee Co. Chicago _Copyright_, 1913 _BY_ _The Reilly & Britton Co._ AUNT JANE’S NIECES ON THE RANCH CONTENTS · CHAPTER I—UNCLE JOHN DECIDES · CHAPTER II—EL CAJON RANCH · CHAPTER III—THAT BLESSED BABY! · CHAPTER IV—LITTLE JANE’S TWO NURSES · CHAPTER V—INEZ THREATENS · CHAPTER VI—A DINNER WITH THE NEIGHBORS · CHAPTER VII—GONE! · CHAPTER VIII—VERY MYSTERIOUS · CHAPTER IX—A FRUITLESS SEARCH · CHAPTER X—CONJECTURES AND ABSURDITIES · CHAPTER XI—THE MAJOR ENCOUNTERS THE GHOST · CHAPTER XII—ANOTHER DISAPPEARANCE · CHAPTER XIII—THE WAY IT HAPPENED · CHAPTER XIV—PRISONERS OF THE WALL · CHAPTER XV—MILDRED CONFIDES IN INEZ · CHAPTER XVI—AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL · CHAPTER XVII—THE PRODIGAL SON · CHAPTER XVIII—LACES AND GOLD · CHAPTER XIX—INEZ AND MIGUEL · CHAPTER XX—MR. RUNYON’S DISCOVERY · CHAPTER XXI—A FORTUNE IN TATTERS · CHAPTER XXII—FAITHFUL AND TRUE Aunt Jane’s Nieces on the Ranch CHAPTER I—UNCLE JOHN DECIDES “And now,” said Major Doyle, rubbing his hands together as he half reclined in his big chair in a corner of the sitting room, “now we shall enjoy a nice cosy winter in dear New York.” “Cosy?” said his young daughter, Miss Patricia Doyle, raising her head from her sewing to cast a glance through the window at the whirling snowflakes. “Ab-so-lute-ly cosy, Patsy, my dear,” responded the major. “Here we are in our own steam-heated flat—seven rooms and a bath, not counting the closets—hot water any time you turn the faucet; a telephone call brings the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker; latest editions of the papers chucked into the passage! What more do you want?” “Tcha!” This scornful ejaculation came from a little bald-headed man seated in the opposite corner, who had been calmly smoking his pipe and dreamily eyeing the flickering gas-log in the grate. The major gave a start and turned to stare fixedly at the little man. Patsy, scenting mischief, indulged in a little laugh as she threaded her needle. “Sir! what am I to understand from that brutal interruption?” demanded Major Doyle sternly. “You’re talking nonsense,” was the reply, uttered in a tone of cheery indifference. “New York in winter is a nightmare. Blizzards, thaws, hurricanes, ice, la grippe, shivers—grouches.”