d tremble," asserted Patsy, "and he was abject in his
apologies."

"Showing," added Flo Stanton, "that Goldstein is afraid of him."

"I wonder why," said Maud.

"It is all very easy of solution," remarked Arthur. "Goldstein believes
that Jones is in the market to buy films. Perhaps he's going to open a
motion picture theatre on his island. So the manager didn't want to
antagonize a good customer."

"That's it," said Uncle John, nodding approval. "There's no great mystery
about young Jones, I'm sure."

CHAPTER IX

DOCTOR PATSY

Next morning Uncle John and the Weldons--including the precious
baby--went for a ride into the mountains, while Beth and Patsy took their
embroidery into a sunny corner of the hotel lobby.

It was nearly ten o'clock when A. Jones discovered the two girls and came
tottering toward them. Tottering is the right word; he fairly swayed as
he made his way to the secluded corner.

"I wish he'd use a cane," muttered Beth in an undertone. "I have the
feeling that he's liable to bump his nose any minute."

Patsy drew up a chair for him, although he endeavored to prevent her.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" she inquired.

"I--I think so," he answered doubtfully. "I don't seem to get back my
strength, you see."

"Were you stronger before your accident?" asked Beth.

"Yes, indeed. I went swimming, you remember. But perhaps I was not
strong enough to do that. I--I'm very careful of myself, yet I seem to
grow weaker all the time."

There was a brief silence, during which the girls plied their needles.

"Are you going to stay in this hotel?" demanded Patsy, in her blunt way.

"For a time, I think. It is very pleasant here," he said.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"I took a food-tablet at daybreak."

"Huh!" A scornful exclamation. Then she glanced at the open door of
the dining-hall and laying aside her work she rose with a determined
air and said:

"Come with me!"

"Where?"

For answer she assisted him to rise. Then she took his hand and marched
him across the lobby to the dining room.

He seemed astonished at this proceeding but made no resistance. Seated
at a small table she called a waitress and said:

"Bring a cup of chocolate, a soft-boiled egg and some toast."

"Pardon me, Miss Doyle," he said; "I thought you had breakfasted."

"So I have," she replied. "The breakfast I've ordered is for you, and
you're going to eat it if I have to ram it down your throat."