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diff --git a/36119-0.txt b/36119-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..975536c --- /dev/null +++ b/36119-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6235 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36119 *** + +THE CINDER POND + +BY + +CARROLL WATSON RANKIN + +AUTHOR OF "DANDELION COTTAGE," "THE CASTAWAYS OF PETE'S PATCH," ETC. + + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADA C. WILLIAMSON + + +NEW YORK + +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + +1915 + + + +To SALLIE and IMOGENE + + + + +[Illustration: NEXT SHE HAD FLOWN AT HIM AND HAD KISSED BOTH OF HIS +BROAD RED CHEEKS.] + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. THE ACCIDENT + II. PART OF THE TRUTH + III. JEANNETTE'S QUEER FAMILY + IV. WHAT WAS IN AN OLD TRUNK + V. THE SEWING LESSON + VI. MOLLIE + VII. A MATTER OF COATS + VIII. A SHOPPING EXPEDITION + IX. THE FLIGHT + X. THE ARRIVAL + XI. A NEW LIFE + XII. A HELPFUL GRANDFATHER + XIII. BANISHED FRIENDS + XIV. AT FOUR A.M. + XV. ALLEN ROSSITER + XVI. AN OLD ALBUM + XVII. A LONELY SUMMER + XVIII. A THUNDERBOLT + XIX. WITH THE ROSSITERS + XX. A MISSING FAMILY + XXI. OLD CAPTAIN'S NEWS + XXII. ROGER'S RAZOR + XXIII. A NEW FRIEND FOR JEANNE + XXIV. MOLLIE'S BABIES + XXV. THE HOUSE OF DREAMS + XXVI. A PADLOCKED DOOR + XXVII. THE PINK PRESENT + + + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE STORY + + +JEANNETTE HUNTINGTON DUVAL: Aged 11 to 14: The Principal Cinder. + Small Cinders from the Cinder Pond. + MICHAEL: Aged 8 to 10 + SAMMY: Aged 4 to 7 + ANNIE: Aged 3 to 6 + PATSY: A Toddling Infant +LÉON DUVAL: Their Father. +MOLLIE: A Lazy but Loving Mother. +MRS. SHANNON: A Cross Grandmother. +CAPTAIN BLOSSOM: A Faithful Friend. +BARNEY TURCOTT: A Bashful Friend. +WILLIAM HUNTINGTON: A Grandfather. +CHARLES HUNTINGTON: A Polished Uncle. +MRS. HUNTINGTON: A Polished Aunt. + Their Perfect Children. + HAROLD: Aged 12 + PEARL: Aged 15 + CLARA: Aged 14 +JAMES: A Human Butler. +MR. FAIRCHILD: Both Polished and Pleasant. +MRS. FAIRCHILD: A Grateful Parent. +ROGER FAIRCHILD: An Only Son. +MRS. ROSSITER: A Motherly Mother. +ALLEN ROSSITER: The Family "Meeter." + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +NEXT SHE HAD FLOWN AT HIM AND HAD KISSED BOTH OF + HIS BROAD RED CHEEKS _Frontispiece_ + +THE SEWING LESSON + +JEANNE, LEFT ALONE WITH THE STRANGERS, INSPECTED + THEM WITH INTEREST + +SHE ALMOST BUMPED INTO A FORMER ACQUAINTANCE + + + + +THE CINDER POND + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE ACCIDENT + + +The slim dark girl, with big black eyes, rushed to the edge of the +crumbling wharf, where she dropped to her hands and knees to peer +eagerly into the green depths below. + +There was reason for haste. Only a second before, the very best suit of +boys' clothing in Bancroft had tumbled suddenly over the edge to hit the +water with a most terrific splash. Now, there was a wide circle on the +surface, with bubbles coming up. + +It was an excellent suit of clothes that went into the lake. Navy-blue +serge, fashioned by Bancroft's best tailor to fit Roger Fairchild, who +was much too plump for ready-made clothes. But here were those costly +garments at the very bottom of Lake Superior; not in the very deepest +part, fortunately, but deep enough. And that was not all. Their youthful +owner was inside them. + +That morning when Jeannette, eldest daughter of Léon Duval, tumbled out +of the rumpled bed that she shared with her stepsister, the day had +seemed just like any other day. It was to prove, as you may have +guessed, quite different from the ordinary run of days. In the first +place, it was pleasant; the first really mild day, after months of cold +weather. In the second place, things were to happen. Of course, things +happened _every_ day; but then, most things, like breakfast, dinner, and +supper, have a way of happening over and over again. But it isn't every +day that a really, truly adventure plunges, as it were, right into one's +own front yard. + +To be sure, Jeanne's front yard invited adventures. It was quite +different from any other front yard in Bancroft. It was large and wet +and blue; and big enough to show on any map of the Western Hemisphere. +Nothing less, indeed, than Lake Superior. Her side yard, too, was +another big piece of the same lake. The rest of her yard, except what +was Cinder Pond, was dock. + +In order to understand the adventure; and, indeed, all the rest of this +story, you must have a clear picture of Jeanne's queer home; for it +_was_ a queer home for even the daughter of a fisherman. You see, the +Duvals had lived on dry land as long as they were able (which was not +very long) to pay rent. When there were no more landlords willing to +wait forever for their rent-money, the impecunious family moved to an +old scow anchored in shallow water near an abandoned wharf. After a +time, the scow-owner needed his property but not the family that was on +it. The Duvals were forced to seek other shelter. Happily, they found it +near at hand. + +Once on a time, ever so far back in the history of Bancroft, the +biggest, busiest, and reddest of brick furnaces, in that region of iron +and iron mines, had poured forth volumes of thick black smoke. It was +located right at the water's edge, on a solid stone foundation. From it, +a clean new wooden wharf extended southward for three hundred feet, east +for nine hundred feet, north for enough more feet to touch the land +again. This wharf formed three sides of a huge oblong pond. The shore +made the fourth side. The shallow water inside this inclosure became +known, in time, as "The Cinder Pond." + +After twenty years of activity, the furnace, with the exception of the +huge smoke-stack, was destroyed by fire. After that, there was no +further use for the wharf. Originally built of huge cribs filled with +stone, planked over with heavy timbers, it became covered, in time, +first with fine black cinders, then with soil. As it grew less useful, +it became more picturesque, as things sometimes do. + +By the time the Duvals helped themselves to the old wharf, much of its +soft black surface was broken out with patches of green grass, sturdy +thistles, and many other interesting weeds. There were even numbers of +small but graceful trees fringing the inner edge of the old wharf, from +which they cast most beautiful reflections into the still waters of the +Cinder Pond. No quieter, more deserted spot could be imagined. + +Jeannette's father, Léon Duval, built a house for his family on the +southwest corner of the crumbling dock, three hundred feet from land. + +When you have never built a house; and when you have no money with which +to buy house-building materials, about the only thing you can do is to +pick up whatever you can find and put it together to the best of your +small ability. That is precisely what Léon Duval did. Bricks from the +old furnace, boards from an old barn, part of the cabin from a wrecked +steamboat, nails from driftwood along the shore, rusty stove pipe from +the city dump ground; all went into the house that, for many years, was +to shelter the Duvals. When finished, it was of no particular shape and +no particular size. Owing to the triangular nature of the wharf, at the +point chosen, the house had to ramble a good deal, and mostly +lengthwise--like a caterpillar. For several reasons, it had a great many +doors and very few windows. + +For as long as Jeanne could remember, she had lived in this queer, +home-made, tumble-down, one-story cabin; perched on the outside--that +is, the _lake_ side--of the deserted wharf. + +On the day of the mishap to Roger Fairchild's navy-blue suit, Jeanne, +having put on what was left of her only dress, proceeded to build a fire +in the rusty, ramshackle stove that occupied the middle section of her +very queer home. Then, without stopping to figure out how many +half-brothers it took to make a whole one, she helped three of these +half-portions, all with tousled heads of reddish hair, into various +ragged garments. + +Perhaps, if all the Duvals had risen at once, the house wouldn't have +held them. At any rate, the older members of the family stayed abed +until the smaller children had scampered either northward or eastward +along the wharf, one to get water, one to get wood. + +And then came the adventure. + +Roger didn't _look_ like an adventure. Most anyone would have mistaken +him for just a plump boy in _very_ good clothes. He carried himself--and +a brand-new fish-pole--with an air of considerable importance. He had +risen early for some especial reason; and the reason, evidently, was +located near the outer edge of the Duval dock; because, having reached a +jutting timber a few feet east of the Duval mansion, he proceeded to +make himself comfortable. + +He seated himself on the outer end of the jutting timber, attached a +wriggling worm to the hook that dangled from the brand-new pole, and +then, raising the pole to an upright position, proceeded to cast his +baited hook to a spot that looked promising. He repeated this casting +operation a great many times. + +Unfortunately, he failed to notice that the outward movement made by his +arms and body was producing a curious effect on the log on which he +sat. Each time he made a cast, the squared timber, jarred by his +exertion, moved forward. Just a scrap at a time, to be sure; but if you +have _enough_ scraps, they make inches after a while. + +When the insecurely fastened log had crept out five inches, it took just +one more vigorous cast to finish the business. Roger, a very much +surprised young person, went sprawling suddenly into the lake. Straight +to the bottom of it, too; while the log, after making the mighty splash +that caught Jeannette's attention, floated serenely on top. + +Jeannette, whose everyday name was Jeanne, promptly wrenched a great +fish net that was drying over the low roof of her home from its place, +gathered it into her arms, and rushed to the edge of the dock. + +She was just in time. The boy had come to the surface and was +floundering about like a huge turtle. Jeanne threw a large portion of +the big net overboard, keeping a firm grasp on what remained. + +"Hang on to this," she shouted. "Don't pull--just hold on. There! you +couldn't sink if you wanted to. Now just keep still--keep _still_; I +tell you, and I'll tow you down to that low place where the dock's +broken. You can climb up, I guess. Don't be afraid. I've pulled my +brother out four times and my sister once--only it wasn't so deep. +There, one hand on that plank, one on the net. Put your foot in the +crack--that's right. Now give me your hand. There--stand here on my +garden and I won't have to water it. My! But you're wet." + +Roger _was_ wet. But now that he was no longer frightened, he was even +angrier than wet. To be saved by a _girl_--a thin little slip of a girl +at that--was a fearful indignity. A fellow could stand falling in. But +to be saved by a girl! + +To make it worse, the dock was no longer deserted. There were folks +gathering outside the tumble-down shack to look at him. A fat, untidy +woman with frowzy reddish hair. A bent old woman with her head tied up +in a filthy rag. A small dark man with very bright black eyes. Two +staring children. The morning sun made three of the tousled heads blazed +like fire. But the boy's wrath blazed even more fiercely. To be saved +_by a girl_! And all those staring people watching him drip! It was too +much. + +Without a word of thanks, and with all the dignity that he could muster, +plump young Roger marched past the assembled multitude--it seemed like +that to him--straight along the dock toward the shore, leaving behind +him a wet, shining trail. + +With much difficulty, because of his soggy shoes, he climbed the rough +path up the bank to Lake Street, crossed that thoroughfare to clamber up +the exceedingly long flight of stairs--four long flights to be +exact--that led to the street above. A workman going down met him +toiling up. + +"Hey!" the man called cheerfully. "Looks like you'd had an accident. +Fell in somewheres?" + +There was no response. Roger climbed steadily on. By sneaking through +backyards and driveways, he managed at last to slip into the open door +of his own home, up the stairs, and into his own pleasant room, where he +proceeded, with some haste, to change his clothes. + +He owned three union suits. He had one of them on. One was in the wash. +The other _should_ have been in his bureau drawer--but it wasn't. To ask +for it meant to disclose the fact that he had been in the lake--a secret +that he had decided never to disclose to _anybody_. With a sigh for his +own discomfort, young Roger dressed himself in dry garments, _over_ his +wet union suit. + +"But what," said Roger, eying the heap of sodden clothing on the floor, +"shall I do with those?" + +Finally he hung the wet suit in the closet, with his dry pajamas spread +carefully over them. He concealed his wet shoes, with his socks stuffed +inside, far back in a bureau drawer. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +PART OF THE TRUTH + + +Roger, with his rather long hair carefully brushed, sauntered downstairs +to the nicely furnished dining-room, where his mother was eating +breakfast. Mrs. Fairchild was a most attractive little woman. Like +Roger, she was blue-eyed and fair. She was taller, however, than Roger +and not nearly so wide. + +"Good morning," said she, with a very pleasant smile. "I guess we're +both late this morning. Your father's been gone for twenty minutes." + +"Good morning," shivered Roger. + +"Dear me!" said Mrs. Fairchild, catching sight of her son's +remarkably sleek head. "I do wish you wouldn't put so much water on your +hair when you comb it. It isn't at all necessary and it looks +_horrid_--particularly when it's so long. Do be more careful next +time." + +"I will," promised Roger, helping himself to an orange. + +"It must have taken you a great while to dress. I thought I heard you +stirring about hours ago." + +"Yes'm," returned Roger, looking anywhere except at his pretty mother. + +"I'm glad you remembered to put on your old clothes, since it's +Saturday. But--why, _Roger_! What is that?" + +"That" was a thin, brownish stream, scarcely more than an elongated +drop--trickling down the boy's wrist to the back of his plump hand. +Roger looked at it with horror. His drenched, fleece-lined underwear was +betraying him. + +Mrs. Fairchild pushed up his coat sleeve, turned back the damp cuff of +his blue cotton shirt, and disclosed three inches of wet, close-fitting +sleeve. She poked an investigating finger up her son's arm. Then her +suspicious eye caught a curious change of color in the bosom of his +blue shirt. It had darkened mysteriously in patches. She touched one of +them. Then she reached up under his coat and felt his moist back. + +"Roger, how in the world did your shirt get so wet? Surely you didn't do +all that washing yourself?" + +"No'm." + +"Have you been outdoors?" + +"Yes'm." + +"Watering the grass?" + +"No'm." + +"Hum--Katie says somebody dug a hole in my pansy bed last night. It's a +splendid place for worms. Have you, by any chance, been trying your new +pole?" + +Silence. + +"_Have_ you, Roger?" + +"Ye--es'm," gulped Roger. + +"Did you fall in?" + +"Ye--es'm." + +"How did you get out?" + +"Jus--just climbed out." + +"Roger Fairchild! You're _shivering_! And that window wide open behind +you! Come upstairs with me this instant and I'll put you to bed between +hot blankets. It's a mercy I discovered those wet clothes. I'll have +Katie bring you some hot broth the moment you're in bed." + +Roger, under a mountain of covers, was thankful that he hadn't had to +divulge the important part Jeanne Duval had played in his rescue. All +that morning, when his mother asked troublesome questions, he shivered +so industriously that the anxious little woman fled for more hot +blankets or more hot broth. The blankets were tiresome and he already +held almost a whole boyful of broth; but _anything_, he thought, was +better than telling that he had been pulled out of the lake in a smelly +old fish net; and by a girl! A _small_ girl at that. + +But, in spite of his care, the truth, or at least part of it, was to +come out. The very next day, a small red-headed, barefooted, and very +ragged boy appeared at the Fairchilds' back door. He carried a fish-pole +in one hand, a navy-blue cap in the other. Inside the cap, neatly +printed in indelible ink, were Roger's name and address; for Roger, like +many another careless boy, frequently lost his belongings. + +"My sister," said Michael Duval, handing the cap and the pole to the +cook, "sent these here. She pulled 'em out of the lake--same as she did +the fat boy what lives here." + +"How was that, now?" asked Katie, with interest. + +"Wiv a fish net. It was awful deep where he fell in--way over _your_ +head." + +"Wait here, sonny. I'll tell the missus about it." + +But when Katie returned after telling "Missus," she found no small +red-headed boy outside the door. Michael had turned shy, as small boys +will, and had fled. Neither Katie nor Mrs. Fairchild, gazing down the +street, could catch a glimpse of him. + +But Mrs. Fairchild managed to extract a little more information from +Roger, now fully recovered from his unlucky bath. + +Yes, the water was deep--ten miles deep, he guessed--because it took an +awful while to come up. Yes, he had been pulled out by _somebody_. +Perhaps it _might_ have been a girl. A _big_ girl. A perfectly +tremendous girl. A regular giantess, in fact. She had reached down with +a long, _long_ arm, and helped him up. A fishnet? Oh--yes (casually), he +believed there _was_ a fish net _there_. + +"Where," asked Mrs. Fairchild, "_was_ that dock?" + +"Oh, I dunno--just around anywhere. There's a lot of docks in +Bancroft--a fellow doesn't look to see which one he's _on_." + +"But, Roger, where does the girl _live_? We ought to do something for +her. I'm _very_ grateful to her. You ought to be too. Can't you tell me +where she lives?" + +"Didn't ask her," mumbled Roger. "I just hiked for home." + +"And you don't know her name?" + +"No," said Roger, truthfully. "I didn't ask her _that_, either. I'm glad +I got my pole back, anyhow." + +"Roger," said his mother, earnestly, "hereafter, when you go fishing, I +shall go with you and sit beside you on the dock and hold on to you. +Another time there might not be a great big, strong girl on hand to pull +you out. We _must_ thank that girl." + +"I _hate_ girls," said Roger, who had finally escaped from his +persistent mother. "And _small_ ones--Yah!" + +The girl that he thought he hated most was eleven years of age, and +small at that. Yet, because of her carefree, outdoor life, she was wiry +and strong; as active, too, as a squirrel. Also, she did a great deal of +thinking. + +Little Jeanne Duval loved the old wharf because it was all so beautiful. +She liked the soft blackness of the cindery soil that covered the most +sheltered portions of the worn-out dock. She liked the little sloping +grass-grown banks that had formed at the inner sides of the dock, where +it touched the Cinder Pond. She liked to lie flat, near the steep, +straight outer edge of the dock, to look into the green, mysterious +depths below. _Any_thing might be down _there_, in that deep, deep +water. + +The Cinder Pond was different. It was shallow. The water was warmer than +that in the lake and very much quieter. There were small fish in it and +a great many minnows. And in one sunny corner there were pollywogs and +lively crawfish. Also bloodsuckers that were not so pleasant and a great +many interesting water-bugs. + +Then there were flowers. Wherever there was a handful of soil, seeds had +sprouted. Each spring brought new treasures to the old dock; each year +the soil crept further lakeward; though the planking was still visible +at the Duval corner of the wharf. + +The flowers near the shore were wonderful. Pink and white clover, with +roses, bluebells, ox-eyed daisies, black-eyed Susans, wild +forgetmenots, violets. And sometimes, seeds from the distant gardens on +the high bluff back of the lake were carried down by the north wind; +for, one summer, she had found a great, scarlet poppy; another time a +sturdy flame-colored marigold. + +What she liked best, perhaps, was a picture that was visible from a +certain point on Lake Street. That portion of the so-called street, for +as far as the eye could reach, was _road_--a poor road at that. There +were no houses; and the road was seldom used. From it, however, one saw +the tall old smoke-stack, outlined against the sky, the long, low dock +with its fringe of green shrubbery reflected in the quiet waters of the +Cinder Pond; and beyond, the big lake, now blue, now green, or perhaps +beaten to a froth by storm. Jeanne _loved_ that lake. + +Seen from that distance, even the rambling shack that her father had +built was beautiful, because its sagging, irregular roof made it +picturesque. Jeanne couldn't have told you _why_ this quiet spot was +beautiful, but that was the reason. + +On the portion of the dock that ran eastward from the Duval house, there +were a number of the big reels on which fishermen wind their nets. +These, seen from the proper angle, made another picture. They were used +by her father, Barney Turcott, and Captain Blossom. Barney and "Old +Captain," as everybody called Captain Blossom, were her father's +partners in the fishing business. Two of them went out daily to the +nets, anchored several miles below the town of Bancroft. The third +partner stayed on or near the wharf to sell fish to the chance customers +who came (rather rarely indeed) on foot; in a creaking, leisurely wagon; +or perhaps in a small boat from one of the big steamers docked across +the Bay. + +Jeanne's playfellows were her half-brothers Michael, aged eight, Sammy, +aged five, and Patsy, who was not quite two. Also her half-sister Annie, +whose years were three and a half. Jeanne and her father were French, +her stepgrandmother said. Her stepmother, Mollie, and all her children +were mostly Irish. + +"But," said Jeanne, a wise little person for her years, "I love those +children just as much as if we were all one kind." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +JEANNETTE'S QUEER FAMILY + + +Although it was picturesque, the Duval shack was not at all nice to live +in. Perhaps one person or even two _neat_ persons might have found it +comfortable, but the entire, mostly untidy Duval family filled it to +overflowing. The main room, which had been built first, was kitchen, +parlor, and dining-room. It contained a built-in bunk, besides, in which +Mrs. Duval slept. South of it, but with no door between, was Léon +Duval's own room. Around the corner, and at some little distance, was a +fish-shed. North of the main room, toward land, there was a small +bedroom. North of that another small bedroom. Doors connected these +bedrooms with the main room and each contained two built-in bunks, +filled with straw. + +Jeannette spent a great deal of time wondering about her family. First, +there was her precious father. _He_ belonged to her. His speech was +different from that of Mollie, her stepmother. It differed, too, from +the rough speech of the other fishermen that sometimes dried their nets +on the dock, or came there to _make_ nets. Even Old Captain, who lived +in part of an old freight car on the shore near the smoke-stack, and who +was very gentle and polite to little girls, was less careful in his +speech than was Léon Duval. Her father's manners were _very_ nice +indeed. Jeanne could see that they sometimes surprised persons who came +to buy fish. + +Sometimes, when the old grandmother wished to be particularly offensive, +she called Jeanne's father "a gentleman." Old Captain, too, had assured +her that Léon Duval was a gentleman. + +No one, however, accused Mollie of being a lady. Slipshod as to speech, +untidy, unwashed, uneducated, and most appallingly lazy, Mollie shifted +the burden of her children upon Jeanne, who had cared for, in turn, +each of the four red-headed babies. Fortunately, Jeanne liked babies. + +Mollie and her mother, Mrs. Shannon, did the housework, with much +assistance from the children. In the evening Mr. Duval sat apart, in the +small room next to the fish-shed, with his book. He read a great many +books, some written in French, some in English. He obtained them from +the city library. He read by the light of a lamp carefully filled and +trimmed by his own neat hands. This tiny room, with no floor but the +planking of the dock, with only rough boards, over which newspapers had +been pasted, for sidewalls and ceiling; with no furniture but a single +cot, a small trunk, a large box and three smaller ones, was always +scrupulously clean. It was Léon Duval's own room. Like Léon himself, it +was small and absolutely neat. + +Jeannette and Old Captain were the only two other persons permitted to +enter that room. In it the little girl had learned to read, to do small +problems in arithmetic, even to gain some knowledge of history and +geography. She had never gone to school. First, it was too far. Next, +Mollie had needed her to help with the children. Besides she had had no +clothes. Mollie's _own_ children had no clothes. + +To do Mollie justice, she was quite as kind to Jeannette as to her own +youngsters. In fact, she was kinder, because she admired the little +girl's very pleasing face, her soft black eyes, and the dark hair that +_almost_ curled. She _liked_ Jeanne. She was anything but a _cruel_ +stepmother. + +She had proved a poor one, nevertheless. Good-natured Mollie was +thoroughly and completely lazy. She wouldn't work. She said she couldn't +work. Mollie's ill-tempered mother was just about as shiftless; but for +her there was some excuse. She was crippled with rheumatism. She was +also exceedingly cross. Jeannette was fond of Mollie, but she disliked +her stepgrandmother very much indeed. Most everybody did. + +Jeanne couldn't remember when there hadn't been a heavy, red-headed baby +to move from place to place on the old wharf, as she picked flowers, +watched pollywogs turn into frogs, or talked to Old Captain. She didn't +mind carrying babies, but her father disliked having her do it. + +"Don't carry that child, Jeanne," he would say. "It isn't good for your +back. Make him walk--he's big enough. If he can't walk, teach him to +crawl. The good God knows that he cannot hurt his clothes." + +Old Captain and Léon Duval were great friends. At first they had been +rivals in business, the Captain with a fish-shop in one end of his +freight car, Duval with a fish-shop on the wharf. Before long, however, +they went into partnership. A good thing for Duval, who was a poor +business man, and not so bad a thing for the Captain. + +"What are you captain _of_?" asked Jeannette, one day, when her old +friend was busy repairing a net. + +"Well," returned Old Captain, with a twinkle in his fine blue eye, "some +folks takes to makin' music, some folks takes to makin' money, some +folks takes to makin' trouble; but I just naturally takes to boats. I +allus had _some_ kind of a boat. Bein' as how it was _my_ boat, of +course I was Captain, wasn't I? So that's how." + +"Didn't you ever have any wives?" + +"Just one," replied Old Captain, who loved the sound of Jeannette's +soft, earnest little voice. "One were enough. Still, I'm not +complainin'. If I'd been real pleased with that one, maybe I'd have +tried another. I was spared that." + +"Supposing a beautiful lady with blue eyes and golden hair should come +walking down the dock and ask you to marry her," queried Jeanne. "What +then?" + +"I hope I'd have sense enough to jump in the lake," chuckled Old +Captain. + +"Oh _then_," cried Jeanne, seriously, "I do hope she won't come. I was +only thinking how glad you'd be to have her boil potatoes for you so +they'd be hot when you got home." + +"Most like she'd eat them all herself. An' she _might_ make things +hotter than I'd like." + +Old Captain's eyes were so blue that strangers looked at them a second +time to make certain that they were not two bits of summer sky set in +Captain Blossom's good, red face. Once his hair had been bright yellow. +The fringe that was left was now mostly white. He was a large man; +nearly twice as large, Jeanne thought, as her father. He was _good_, +too. Of course, not twice as good as her good father, because she +wouldn't admit that anybody _could_ be better than her beloved "Daddy." + +As Captain Blossom said, some people take to music, others to boats. Old +Captain, however, took to both; but he had but one song. Its chorus, +bawled forth in the captain's big, rather tuneful voice, ran thus: + + "We sailors skip aloft to reef the gallant ship, + While the landlubbers lie down below, _below_, BELOW; + While the landlubbers lie down below." + +Jeanne hoped fervently that _she_ was not a landlubber. One day, she +asked Old Captain about it. + +"What," said he, "when you lives on a dock? No, indeed," he assured her. +"You're the kind that _allus_ skips up aloft." + +One evening, when the sun was going down behind that portion of the town +directly west from the Duval shack; and all the roofs and spires were +purple-black against a glowing orange sky, Jeanne seized Sammy and +Annie; and, calling Michael to follow, raced up the dock toward the huge +old furnace smoke-stack. She was careful never to go _very_ close to +that, because Old Captain had warned her that it was unsafe; so she +paused with her charges at a point where the dock joined the land. + +She loved that particular spot because the dock at that point was wider +than at any other place. It had been wider to begin with. Then, tons of +cinders had been dumped into the Cinder Pond and into the lake, on +either side of the wharf; filling in the corners. This made wide and +pleasing curves rather than sharp angles, at the joining place. + +"Now, Mike," said she, "you sit down and watch the top of that chimney. +And you sit here, Sammy, where you can't fall in. Look up there, Annie. +What do you see?" + +"Birdses," lisped Annie. + +"Gee! _Look_ at the birds!" exclaimed Michael. "Wait till I shy a rock +at them." + +"No, you don't," replied Jeanne, firmly. "Those are Old Captain's birds. +I'll tell him to thrash you if you bother them. He showed them to me +last night. Now watch." + +Everybody watched. The birds were flying in a wide circle above the top +of the old chimney. They had formed themselves into a regular +procession. They circled and circled and circled; and all the time more +birds arrived to join the procession. They were twittering in a curious, +excited way. This lasted for at least ten minutes. Then, suddenly, part +of the huge circle seemed to touch the chimney top. + +"Why!" gasped Michael, "they look as if they were pouring themselves +right into that chimney like--like--" + +"Like so much water. Yes, they're really going in. See, they're almost +gone. They're putting themselves to bed. They're chimney swallows--they +sleep in there. See there!" + +Two belated birds, too late to join the procession, scurried out of the +darkening sky, and twittering frenziedly, hurled themselves into the +mouth of the towering stack. + +"They're policemen," said Michael. "They've sent all the others to +jail." + +"Then what about that one!" asked Jeanne, as a last lone bird, all but +shrieking as it scurried through the sky, hurled itself down the +chimney. + +"_That_ one almost got caught," said Sammy. "See, there's a big bird +that was chasing it." + +"A night-hawk," said Jeanne. "Old Captain says there's always _one_ late +bird and one big hawk to chase it. Now we must hurry back--it'll soon be +dark." + +As the old wharf, owing to the rotting of the thick planking under the +cinders, was full of pitfalls, even by daylight, the children hurried +back to their home, chattering about the swallows. + +"Will they do it again tomorrow night?" asked Michael. + +"Yes, Old Captain says they do it every night all summer long. That's +their home. Early in the spring there's only a few; but as the summer +goes on, there are more and more." + +"Will oo take us to see the birdses some nother nights?" asked Annie. + +"Yes, if you're good." + +"Does 'em take they's feathers off?" + +"Oh, Sammy! Of _course_ they don't." + +"Does 'em sing all night?" + +"No, they sleep, and that's what you ought to be doing." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHAT WAS IN AN OLD TRUNK + + +"Where you been?" demanded Mrs. Shannon, crossly, from the doorway of +the shack. "Hurry up and put Sammy and Annie to bed and don't wake +Patsy. Your pa wants you to say your lessons, Jeanne. I gotta go up town +after yeast. Come along, Mollie, we can go now. Here's Barney with the +boat." + +Her family tucked into bed, Jeanne slipped into her father's room. + +"Here I am," said she. "I'm not a bit sleepy, so you can teach me a +lot." + +Jeanne seated herself on her father's little old leather trunk--the +trunk that was always locked--and patted it with her hands. + +"There's my spelling book on the table, Daddy. There's a nice pink +clover marking the place." + +Her father looked at her for a moment, before reaching for the book. He +_liked_ to look at her; it was one of his few pleasures. + +A soft clear red glowed in her dark cheeks and her eyes were very bright +and very black. She was small and of slender build, but she seemed +sufficiently healthy. + +"Father, why do I have to speak a _different_ language from Mollie's?" +(She had never called her stepmother by any other name, since her +fastidious father had objected to "Maw.") "What difference does it make +anyway, if I say I _did_ it or I _done_ it?" + +Here was rebellion! Her small dark father looked at her again. This time +not so contentedly. + +"Arise from that trunk," said Mr. Duval, whose speech retained a slight +foreign touch that most people found most pleasing. "I think I shall +have to show you something that I have been keeping for you." + +Jeannette hopped up, gleefully. She had always wondered what that trunk +contained. Now, it seemed, she was about to find out. From a crack in +the wall, Mr. Duval fished a small key, fitted it to the lock, turned +it, and lifted the lid. There was a tray containing a few packages of +letters and a small box. + +Her father opened the little box and drew from it something that had +once been white, but was now yellow. Something wonderfully fine and +exquisite, with a strange, faint perfume about it. A lace handkerchief. +Even Jeanne, who knew nothing of laces, felt that there was something +especially fine and beautiful about the filmy thing in her hands. + +"Was it--was it--" + +"Your mother's," assented Mr. Duval. "Is it like anything of Mollie's? +Well, your mother wasn't like Mollie. She was fine and exquisite like +this little bit of lace. Now, here is something else for you to see." + +Mr. Duval placed in his daughter's hand a small oval frame containing a +wonderful bit of painting. A woman's beautiful face. The countenance of +a very _young_ woman, with a tender light in her brown eyes. And _such_ +a pretty mouth. And oh! such dainty garments, so becomingly worn. + +"Your mother," said the little man, briefly. + +"Why!" gasped Jeanne. "She was a _lady_!" + +"Yes," admitted her father. "She was a lady." + +"And when she died, you married _Mollie_!" + +"When she died, I died too, I think. I was ill, ill. I walked through +the streets with you in my arms one day, here in this strange town when +your mother's sickness compelled her to leave the steamboat. You were +two years old. In my illness, I fell in the street near the door of +Mollie's mother's house, near the cemetery where they had laid your most +beautiful mother. They took me in and cared for me and for you. For +weeks I was very, very ill--a fever. I did not improve--I _wanted_ to +die. But slowly, very slowly I grew better. Your mother had married +against her father's wishes. Her father, I knew, would not receive you; +and _I_ would ask no favors. + +"Mollie was young then and very good to you. I knew almost nothing about +her except that she was giving you a mother's care. For that reason, +when Mrs. Shannon said it was the thing to do, I married her. You +understand, my Jeanne, it was not because I cared for _her_--it was just +because I cared for _nothing_ in the whole world. Perhaps not even very +much for you. I seemed to be asleep--numb and weak. It was two years +before I realized what I had done for myself. Then it was too late. Of +course I could not take Mollie and her mother to the town where I had +lived with your mother; so I was obliged to find work here. I tried to +be good to Mollie. She has always been kind to you. And now do you know +why I want _your_ speech to be different from Mollie's?" + +"Yes, yes," cried Jeanne. "I'll _never_ say 'I done it' again! Or 'I +should have went' or 'I ain't got no money.' Oh, I _wish_ I'd _never_ +said them. Daddy! Do you s'pose I _could_ grow up to be a _lady_?" + +Her father looked at the eager young creature. + +"Yes," he said, "I believe there's a way. But it's a hard, +heart-breaking way for one of us." + +"If _you're_ the one," said Jeanne, "I guess I'll stay just me and _not_ +be a lady. Anyhow, a girl has to grow up first, doesn't she?" + +"Of _course_," returned Mr. Duval, with a sudden brightness in his dark +eyes and something very like a note of relief in his tone. "There's +still time for you to do a lot of growing. But these things had to be +said. Now let us put the treasures away and do our spelling, or Old +Captain will get here and put an end to our lessons." + +"Will you show me the picture again, some day, Daddy?" + +"Some day," he promised, opening the spelling book at the pink clover. + +The next day was bright, the weather was warm, and the little Duvals, to +put it frankly, were very, very dirty. Jeanne, who had charge of the +family while lazy Mollie dozed in one of the frowzy bunks, decided to +give her charges a bath. There was a beautiful spot for the purpose +along the edge of the Cinder Pond. The bottom at that place was really +quite smooth and sandy. A tiny bit of beach had formed below the sloping +bank of fine cinders and never were young trees more useful than those +in the two clumps of shrubbery that screened this little patch of sandy +beach. The shallow water was pleasantly warm. + +"Me first! Me first!" shrieked Annie, who had wriggled out of her +solitary garment, and was already wading recklessly in. + +"Ladies first, _always_," said Jeannette. "Mike, you and Sammy go behind +that bush and undress. Then you can paddle about until I'm ready to soap +you. Here, Patsy! Keep out of the water until I get your clothes off. +There, Annie, you're slippery with soap. Go roll in the pond while I do +Patsy. Don't get too far away, Sammy, I want _you_ next." + +"Annie make big splash," said that youngster, flopping down, suddenly. +"Annie jump like hop-toad." + +"Now, Annie, you've hopped enough. You watch Patsy while I do Sammy. +Sammy! Come back here. Michael! Bring Sammy back. Goodness, Sammy! How +wet you are--don't put your hands on me." + +"Wonst," remarked Sammy, eying the big bar of yellow soap, thoughtfully, +"I seen _white_ soap--white and smelly. The time the boat with big sails +on it was here." + +"Once I _saw_," corrected Jeanne. "Old Captain said that was a yacht. I +liked that lady with little laughs all over her face. _You_ remember, +Michael. She took us aboard and showed us the inside. My! wasn't that +grand! She showed us the gold beds and nice dishes and everything." + +"What for did the boat come?" asked Sammy. + +"They broke something and had to take it to a blacksmith to be mended. +They stayed here most all day." + +"Sammy tried to _eat_ their smelly soap," said Michael. + +"Aw! I didn't," denied Sammy. "I just licked it like I done the cheese +that was on the cook's table. He gimme the cheese. But I'd ruther a-had +the soap--it tasted better." + +"You sure _needed_ soap," teased Michael. + +"I'd like to be all smiling on my face like that pretty lady," said +Jeanne, wistfully. "And she hadn't any holes in her clothes." + +"_Oo_ got a pretty face," assured Annie, patting it with one plump hand. + +"So have you when it's clean. Why don't you wash it yourself as I do +mine? I'm sure you're big enough." + +"Nuffin to wipe it on," objected Annie. + +This was true. The family towel was a filthy affair when there _was_ +one. Even if Mollie had had money, it is doubtful if she would have +spent it for towels. As for _washing_ anything, it was much easier to +tuck it into the stove or to drop it into the lake. Mollie simply +_wouldn't_ wash; and since Mrs. Shannon's hands had become crippled +with rheumatism, she couldn't wash. Jeannette, however, washed her own +shabby dress. Her father washed and mended his own socks and shirts. +Also he had towels for his own personal use and those he managed to +launder, somehow. Time and again he had provided towels and bed-linen +for his family; but Mollie, who grew lazier with every breath she drew, +had taken no care of them. One by one, they had disappeared. + +"I think," said Jeannette, wisely, "that it would be a very good thing +if I knew how to sew. Then, perhaps, father could get me some cloth and +I could make things. I'd love to have nice clothes." + +"Grown-up ladies," contributed Michael, "wears a lot of white things +under their dresses--twenty at a time I guess. I seen 'em on a +clothesline. The lady what was hangin' 'em up says, 'Don't you trow no +mud on them _under_clothes.'" + +"_Any_ mud," corrected Jeanne, patiently. "And _saw_, not seen." + +"The lady said '_no_ mud,'" insisted Michael. + +"Then maybe she wasn't a truly lady. Sometimes you see a truly lady in a +little gold frame and _she_ never says 'I done it.'" + +"How _could_ she?" demanded practical Michael, to whom Jeanne had +intrusted the cake of soap, in order that he might lather himself while +she rinsed Annie's hair. For this process, Annie sat in the Cinder Pond, +whose waters were so placid that, even when the lake outside was +exceedingly rough, there were no treacherous waves to trouble small +children. Both boys could swim. Jeanne, too, could swim a little, but +was too timid to venture into very deep water. + +"There," said Michael, returning the precious cake. "Gimme the rag and +I'll rub if I _got_ to. Here, Sammy, I'll rub _you_ first." + +"Aw, no," protested Sammy, backing away. "Let sister do it--she rubs +_softer_." + +The bath lasted a good long time, because, the worst of the agony over, +the happy youngsters wished to play in the water. It was only with +great difficulty that Jeanne finally coaxed her charges back into their +clothes. + +"I don't blame you," she mourned, "for hating them. I _do_ wish you had +some clean ones." + +Mollie was peeling potatoes outside the cabin door, when Jeanne returned +home with her spotless family. She was peeling the vegetables +wastefully, as usual. Mollie could go everlastingly without things; she +couldn't economize or take care of what she had. Or at least she didn't. + +"Mollie," said Jeanne, "I've been thinking that I'd like to sew. Could +you teach me, do you s'pose?" + +"Me? _I_ couldn't sew," laughed Mollie, good-naturedly, her soft fat +body shaking as she laughed. "I never did sew. Ma always done all that. +I could tie a bow to pin on a hat, maybe, but _sew_--lordy, I couldn't +cut out a handkercher!" + +Mrs. Shannon, in spite of the warm sunshine, sat inside, huddled over +the stove. Her fingers were drawn out of shape with rheumatism. Her +knees and her elbows were stiff. She sat with her back bent. Out of her +shriveled, unlovely face her eyes gleamed balefully. + +"Granny," asked Jeannette, rather doubtfully, "could _you_ teach me to +sew?" + +"I could, but I won't," snapped the old woman. "Let your father do +it--your _his_ young one. If he'd make money like a man ought to, you +could buy clothes ready-made. But he ain't no money-maker, and he never +will be." + +Jeanne backed hastily out of the shack. Even when Mrs. Shannon said +pleasant things, which was not very often, she had a rasping, unpleasant +voice. Clearly there was no hope in _that_ quarter. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SEWING LESSON + + +Jeanne's father was out in the fishing boat with Barney; but Old Captain +was mending a net near the door of his box-car. Perhaps _he_ could help +her with this new and perplexing problem. She would ask. + +So, with her family trailing behind, she paid a visit to the Captain. + +"Captain," said she, "can you mend anything besides nets?" + +"Men's pants," returned Old Captain, briefly. + +"Could you _make_ anything? A shirt, you know, or--or an apron?" + +"Well," replied the Captain, doubtfully, "I could sew up a seam, maybe, +if somebody cut the darned thing--hum, ladies present--the _old_ thing +out." + +"Could you teach _me_ to sew a seam! You see, these children haven't a +single clean thing to put on. If I could sew, I could make clothes for +them, I believe, because I _think_ Daddy would buy me some cloth." + +"Well now, Jeannie, if you could manage to get the needle threaded--that +there's what gets me. Hold on--I got a _big_ one, somewhere's--now where +did I put that needle!" + +Old Captain rose ponderously to his feet, shuffled about inside his +cabin and finally returned with a large spool of dingy thread, a mammoth +thimble, and a huge darning needle. Also, he had found a piece of an old +flour sack. + +"Now, sit down aside me here and I'll show you. First you ties a +knot--Oh, no! First you threads the needle like this--Well, by gum, went +in, didn't she? An' _then_ you ties the knot--a good big 'un so she +won't slip out. Then you lays the edges of the cloth together, like +this, and you pokes the needle through--Here you, Sammy! You'll get your +nose pricked!" + +[Illustration: THE SEWING LESSON] + +Inquisitive Sammy retired so hastily that he fell over backward. + +"Now, you pull up the slack like this--Hey, Mike! I _did_ get you--Say, +boys, you sheer off a bit while this here's goin' on. I'm plum' +dangerous with this here tool." + +"What do you do with the thimble?" asked Jeanne, when she had removed +placid Annie to a safe distance. + +"Durned if I didn't forget that. You puts it on this here +finger--no--well now, you puts it on _some_ finger and uses it to push +the needle like that." + +"How do you _keep_ it on?" asked Jeanne, twirling it rapidly on an +upraised finger. + +"I guess you'd better use the side of this here freight car like I allus +does," admitted Old Captain. "Just push her in like that. Now, _you_ +try." + +Jeanne sewed for a while, according to these instructions, then handed +the result to her teacher. The Captain beamed as he examined the seam. + +"Ain't that just plum' beautiful!" said he, showing it to Michael. "That +little gal can _sew_. But I ain't just sure them is the right +tools--this here seam in my shirt now--well, it ain't so +goldarned--hum--hum--ladies present--so tarnation thick as that there +what I taught ye." + +At their worst, the good old Captain's mild oaths were never very bad. +Unhappily Jeanne had heard far more terrifying ones from sailors on +passing boats. As you see, Captain Blossom _tried_ to use his very best +language in the children's presence; but his best, perhaps, wasn't quite +as polished as Léon Duval's. + +"I don't see any large black knots in your shirt seam," observed Jeanne. +"Mine look as if they'd _scratch_." + +"Maybe they cuts 'em off," returned the Captain, eying the seam, +doubtfully. "No, by gum! This here's done by machine. Yours is all right +for hand work. But I tell ye what, Jeannie. You come round about this +time tomorry and maybe, by then, I can find better needles. An' there +was a sleeve I tore off an old shirt--maybe that'd sew better." + +"I've always wondered," said Jeanne, "how people made buttonholes. +They're such _neat_ things. Can _you_ make buttonholes?" + +"To be sure I can. Nothin' easier. You cuts a round hole and then you +takes half hitches all around it. I'm a leetle out of practice just now; +but when I've practiced a bit--you see, you got to get started just +right. But it's pretty soon to be thinkin' about the buttonholes." + +"Do you makes the holes to fit the buttons or do you buy the buttons to +fit the holes?" + +"Well," replied the Captain, scratching his head, "mostly I makes the +holes first like and then I fits the buttons to 'em. That's what I done +on this here vest. You see, the natural ones was too small. Besides I +lost the buttons, fust lick." + +Interested Jeanne examined Old Captain's shabby waistcoat. There was a +very large black button to fit a very large buttonhole. Next, a small +white button with a buttonhole of corresponding size. Then a +medium-sized very bright blue button with a hole to match that. The +other two buttons were gone, but the store buttonholes remained. + +"Three buttons--as long as they're _big_ enough," explained Old Captain, +"is enough to keep that there vest on. The rest is superfloo-us. Run +along now, but mind you come tomorry and we'll have them other tools." + +"I will," promised Jeanne. + +"Me'll sew, too," promised Annie. + +"Me, too," said Sammie. + +"How about _you_, Mike?" laughed Old Captain. + +"Aw, _I_ wouldn't sew. That's girls' work." + +The children had no sooner departed than Old Captain washed his hands +and hurried into his coat. Feeling in his pocket to make sure that his +money was there, he clambered up the steep bank, back of his queer +house, to the road above. This was a pleasant road, because it curved +obligingly to fit the shore line. The absence of a sidewalk did not +distress Old Captain. + +Half an hour later, Jeanne's friend, having reached the business section +of the town, peered eagerly in at the shop windows. There seemed to be +everything else in them except the articles that he wanted. Presently, +choosing the shop that had the _most_ windows, he started in, collided +with a lady and a baby carriage and backed out again. He mopped his bald +pink head several times with his faded red handkerchief before he felt +sufficiently courageous to make a second attempt. Finally he got inside. + +"Tarnation!" he breathed. "This ain't no place for a man--I'm the only +one!" + +A moment later, however, he caught sight of a male clerk and started for +him almost on a run. He clutched him by the sleeve. + +"Say," said Old Captain, "gimme a girl-sized thimble, a spool o' thread +to fit, and a whole package o' needles." + +"This young lady will attend to you," replied the man, heartlessly +deserting him. + +The smiling young lady was evidently waiting for her unusual customer to +speak, so the Captain spoke. + +"Will you kindly gimme a girl's-size needle, a spool o' thread, an' a +package o' thimbles." + +"What!" exclaimed the surprised clerk. + +"A thimble, a needle, a thread!" shouted the desperate Captain. + +"What size needles?" + +"Why--about the size you'd use to sew a nice neat seam. Couldn't you mix +up about a quarter's worth?" + +"They _come_ in assorted packets. What colored thread?" + +"Why--make it about six colors--just pick 'em out to suit yourself." + +"How about the thimble? Do you want it for yourself?" + +"No, it's for a girl." + +"About how big a girl?" + +"Well, she's some bigger 'round than a whitefish," said the Captain, a +bit doubtfully, "but not so much bigger than a good-sized lake-trout. +Say, how much _is_ them thimbles?" + +"Five cents apiece." + +"Gimme all the sizes you got. One of each. She might grow some, you +know." + +"Anything else?" + +"Yep," returned Old Captain. "Suppose we match up them spools with some +caliker--white with red spots, or blue, now. What do you say to _that_?" + +"Right this way, sir," said the clerk, gladly turning her back in order +to permit the suppressed giggles that were choking her, to escape. + +The big Captain lumbered along in her wake, like a large scow towed by a +small tug. He beamed in friendly fashion at the other customers; this +dreaded shopping was proving less terrifying than he had feared. His +pilot came to anchor near a table heaped with cheap print. + +"We're having a sale on these goods," said she. + +"What's the matter with 'em?" asked Old Captain, suspiciously. + +"Why, nothing," replied the clerk. "They're all good. How much do you +need? How many yards?" + +"Well, just about three-quarters as much and a little over what it'd +take for you. No need o' bein' stingy, an' we got to allow some for +mistakes in cuttin' out." + +"If you bought a pattern," advised the clerk, "there wouldn't be any +waste." + +"But," said Old Captain, earnestly, "she needs a waist and a skirt, +too." + +"I mean, you wouldn't waste any cloth. See, here's our pattern book." + +Old Captain turned the pages, doubtfully. Suddenly his broad face broke +into smiles. + +"Well, I swan! Here she is. This is _her_--the girl them things is for. +Same eyes, same hair, same shape--" + +"But," queried the smiling clerk, "do you like the way that dress is +made?" + +"No, I don't," returned Captain Blossom. "It's got too many flub-dubs. +I wouldn't know how to make _them_. You see, I'm a teachin' her to sew." + +Finally, by dint of much questioning, the girl arrived at the size of +the pattern required and the number of yards. Then Old Captain selected +the goods. + +"Gimme a _bluer_ blue than that," he objected. "You got to allow a whole +lot for to fade. Same way with the pink. Now that there purple's just +right. And what's the matter with them red stripes? And that there white +with big black spots. No, don't gimme no plain black--I'll keep _that_ +spool to mend with. Now, how about buttons? The young lady's had one +lesson already on buttonholes." + +"We're having a sale on those, too. Right this way. About how many?" + +"About a pint, I guess," said Old Captain. "And for Pete's sake mix 'em +up as to sizes so they'll fit all kinds of holes." + +This time the clerk giggled outright. + +"They're on cards," said she. "Here are three sizes of white pearl +buttons--a dozen on each card. Five cents a card." + +"Make it three cards of each size," returned the Captain, promptly. "She +might lose a few. And not bein' flower seeds, they wouldn't sprout and +grow _more_. Now, what's the damage for all that?" + +The Captain's money smelled dreadfully fishy, like all the rest of his +belongings; but the good old man didn't know that. He was greatly +pleased with himself and with his purchases. But when he reached the +open air, he paused on the doorstep to draw a deep breath. + +"'Twould a taken less time to bought the riggin' fer a hull boat," said +he, mopping his pink countenance. "But I made a rare good job of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MOLLIE + + +When Jeannette, according to her promise, arrived the next afternoon, +the impatient Captain, who wished he had said _morning_, escorted her +inside the old box-car. Sammy and Annie were at her heels; but Patsy was +having a nap. The rough table was nicely decorated with folded squares +of gorgeous calico. The cards of buttons, spools of thread, and +glittering thimbles formed a sort of fancy border along the edge. The +packets of needles were placed for safety in the exact center of the +table. + +"Them's yourn," said the Captain. "This here's a pattern. You spread it +on you to see if it fits. It's your size." + +"But," said Jeanne, "I wanted the clothes for the _children_." + +"That's all right. You cut it out like this here paper. Then you just +chop a piece off the end, wherever it's too long. There's enough for you +and the little chaps, too. I'll get my shears and we'll do like it says +on the back of the pattern." + +The old shears, unfortunately, declined to cut; but the Captain +sharpened the blade of his jack-knife, and, after Jeanne had laid the +pieces, according to the printed directions, succeeded in hacking out +the pink dress. The Captain insisted that Jeanne should begin on the +pink one. He liked that best. Fortunately the shop girl had been wise +enough to choose a very simple pattern; and Jeanne was bright enough to +follow the simple rules. + +"With one of them there charts," declared Old Captain, admiringly, "I +could make a pair o' pants or a winter overcoat--all but the sewin'. My +kind's all right in summer; but 'twouldn't do in winter--wind'd get in +atween the stitches. Here, you ain't makin' that knot big enough!" + +"Don't you think a smaller one would do?" asked Jeanne, wistfully. "I +don't like such big, black ones. See, this little one doesn't; come +through when I pull." + +"Well, just add an extry hitch or two when you begin--that's right. Why, +you're a natural born sewer." + +It was a strange sight--the big red Captain and the slight dark girl, +side by side on the old bench outside the battered freight car; Old +Captain busy with his net, the eager little girl busy with her pink +calico. If it seemed almost _too_ pink, she was much too polite to say +so. She had decided that Annie should have the purple and that Sammy +should have the blue. Little Patsy wouldn't mind the big black spots. As +for the red stripes, that piece could wait. + +"You see," thought Jeanne, "I'll ask Father to buy Michael some regular +boys' clothes. A pair of trousers anyhow. If he doesn't get him a shirt +too, I suppose I _can_ make him one out of that, but I'd _rather_ have +it for Annie. And I do hope I can squeeze out a pair of knickerbockers +for Sammy. There was enough pink left for one leg--but I'll do his blue +clothes before I plan any _extra_ ones." + +Jeanne's fingers were as busy as her thoughts; and, as the Captain had +hoped, the seams certainly looked better when done with the proper +tools. + +"I _like_ to sew," said Jeanne. + +"Well," confided the Captain, "I can't say as how I _do_." + +Suddenly, wild shrieks rent the air. Sammy was jumping up and down in a +patch of crimson clover. One grimy hand clasped a throbbing eyelid. + +"Sammy smelled a bumby-bee," explained Annie, when Jeanne, dropping her +pink calico, rushed to the rescue. + +There were many other interruptions, happily not all so painful, before +the new garments were finished; but, for many weeks, Jeanne's sewing +traveled with her from end to end of the old dock; while she kept a +watchful eye on her restless small charges. + +"Father," asked Jeanne, one evening, when the pink dress was finished +and Michael had received what the Captain called "a real pair of store +pants," "aren't Michael and Sammy and Annie and Patsy your children, +too?" + +"Why, yes," replied Mr. Duval. + +"Then why don't you take as much pains with them as you do with me? You +never scold Michael for eating with his knife or for not being clean or +for saying bad words. You didn't like it at all the day I said those bad +words to Mollie's mother. _You_ remember. The words I heard those men +say when their boat ran into the dock. You said that ladies _never_ said +bad ones. Of course you couldn't make a lady out of Michael; but there's +Annie. Why _is_ it, Daddy?" + +"Well," returned Mr. Duval, carefully shaved and very neat and tidy in +his shabby clothes, "they are Mollie Shannon's children. You are the +daughter of Elizabeth Huntington. Your full name is Jeannette Huntington +Duval. I want you to live up to that name." + +"Do you mean," asked Jeanne, who was perched on the old trunk, "that +Mollie's children _have_ to be like Mollie?" + +"Something like that," admitted Mr. Duval. + +"That's a pity," said Jeanne. "I _like_ those children. They're _sweet_ +when they're clean. And Michael's almost always good to the others." + +"Perhaps it wouldn't be right," said her father, "to make Mollie's +children better than she is. They might despise her and be unkind to +her. It is best, I fear, to leave things as they are." + +"Don't you _love_ those other children?" queried Jeanne. + +"You are asking a great many questions," returned her father. "It is my +turn now. Suppose you tell me through what states the Mississippi River +flows?" + +Mr. Duval admitted to himself, however, that he did _not_ love those +other children as he loved Jeanne. He tried hard, in fact, not to hate +them. They were so dreadfully like Mollie; so dirty, so untidy, so +common. Dazed from his long illness, half crazed by the death of his +beautiful young wife, he had married Mollie Shannon without at all +realizing what he was doing. He hadn't wanted a wife. All he thought of +was a caretaker for wailing Jeannette, who seemed, to her inexperienced +father, a terrifying responsibility. + +Mollie, in her younger days, with a capable, scheming mother to +skillfully conceal her faults--her indolence, her untidiness, her lack +of education--had _seemed_ a fitting person for the task of rearing +Jeanne. Bolstered by her mother, Mollie looked not only capable, but +even rather pleasing with the soothed and contented baby cuddled in her +soft arms. At the moment, the arrangement had seemed fortunate for both +the Duvals and the Shannons. + +Duval, however, was not really so prosperous as his appearance led the +Shannons to believe. He had arrived in Bancroft with very little money. +Time had proved to his grasping mother-in-law that he was not and never +would be a very great success as a money-maker. Some persons aren't, +you know. As soon as Mrs. Shannon had fully grasped this disappointing +fact, she suffered a surprising relapse. She began to show her true +colors--her vile temper, her lack of breeding, her innate coarseness. +Her true colors, in fact, were such displeasing ones that Léon Duval was +not surprised to learn that Mollie's only brother, a lively and rather +reckless lad, by all accounts, had run away from home at the age of +fourteen--and was perhaps still running, since he had given no proof of +having paused long enough to write. When his absence had stretched into +years, Mrs. Shannon became convinced that John was dead; but Mollie was +not so sure. The runaway had had much to forgive, and the process, with +resentful John, would be slow. + +Of course, without her mother's aid, easy-going Mollie resumed her +former slovenly habits, neglected her hair, her dress, and her finger +nails. Most of her rather faint claim to beauty departed with her +neatness. + +After a time, when his strength had fully returned and his mental powers +with it, Duval realized that he had made a very dreadful mistake in +marrying Mollie; but there seemed to be nothing that he could do about +it. After all, the only thing in life that he had ever really cared for +was buried in Elizabeth Huntington's grave. + +At first, Jeanne had been precious only because she was Elizabeth's +daughter. As for Mollie's children, they were simply little pieces of +Mollie. With the years, Mollie had grown so unlovely that one really +couldn't expect a fastidious person to like four small copies of her. +Unfortunately, perhaps, Léon Duval was a _very_ fastidious person. + +Mrs. Shannon, perpetually crouched over the battered stove for warmth, +had a grievance. + +"If Duval earned half as much as any other fisherman around here," said +she, in her harsh, disagreeable voice, "we'd be livin' in a real house +on dry land. And what's more, Mollie, you ain't gettin' all he earns. +He's savin' on you. He's got money in the bank. I seen a bankbook +a-stickin' out of his pocket. You ain't gettin' what you'd ought to +have; I _know_ you ain't." + +"Leave me be," returned Mollie. "We gets enough to eat and more'n a body +wants to cook. Clothes is a bother any way you want to look at 'em." + +"He's a-saving fer _Jeanne_," declared the old lady. "'Tain't fair to +you. 'Tain't fair to your children." + +"Well," said Mollie, waking up for a moment, "I dunno as I blame him. I +likes Jeanne better myself. She's got _looks,_ Jeanne has; an' she's +always been a _good_ child, with nice ways with her. Neither me nor mine +has much more looks nor a lump o' putty." + +"You'd have _some_, if you was tidy." + +"Well, I ain't," returned Mollie, truthfully. "You got to lace yourself +in, an' keep buttoned up tight an' wear tight shoes an' keep your +stockings fastened up an' your head full o' hairpins if you wants to +look neat, when you're fat, like I be. I hates all of them things. I'd +ruther be comfortable." + +Jeanne had often wondered how soft, plump Mollie _could_ be comfortable +with strands of red hair straggling about her face, with her fat neck +exposed to the weather, her uncorseted figure billowing under her +shapeless wrapper, her feet scuffling about in shoes several times too +large. Even when dressed for the street, she was not much neater. But +that was Mollie. Gentle as she was and thoroughly sweet-tempered, it was +as impossible to stir her to action as it was to upset her serenity. As +for wrath, Mollie simply hadn't any. + +"You could burn the house down," declared Mrs. Shannon, "an' Mollie'd +crawl into the Cinder Pond an' set there an' _sleep_. Her paw died just +because he was too lazy to stay alive, and she's just like him--red hair +and all. If it was _red_ red hair, there'd be some get up and go to them +Shannons; but it _ain't_. It's just _carrot_ red, with yaller streaks." + +"When Annie's hair has just been washed," championed Jeanne, after one +of Mrs. Shannon's outbursts against the family's red-gold locks, "it's +lovely. And if Sammy ever had a lazy hair in _his_ head, I guess Michael +pulled it out that time they had a _fight_ about the fish-pole." + +"Where's Sammy now?" asked his grandmother, suspiciously. "'Tain't safe +to leave him alone a minute. He's always pryin' into things." + +"He and Michael are trying to pull a board off the dock for firewood." + +That was one convenient thing about the wharf. You could live on it and +use it for firewood, too, provided you were careful not to take portions +on which one needed to walk. To anyone but the long-practiced Duvals, +however, most of the dock presented a most uninviting surface--a +dangerous one, in fact. If you stepped on the end of a plank, it was +quite apt to go down like a trap-door, dropping you into the lake below. +If you stepped in the middle, just as likely as not your foot would go +through the decayed board. But only the long portion running east and +west was really dangerous. The section between the Duvals and dry land, +owing to the accumulation of cinders and soil, bound together with roots +of growing plants, was fairly safe. + +"Of course," said Jeanne, who sometimes wished for Patsy's sake that +there were fewer holes in the wharf, "if it were a _good_ dock, we +wouldn't be allowed to live on it. And if people _could_ walk on it, +people _would_; and that would spoil it for us. As it is, it's just the +loveliest spot in the whole world." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A MATTER OF COATS + + +Mrs. Shannon had been right about Mr. Duval. He _was_ saving money. +Also, it was for Jeanne; or, at least, for a purpose that closely +concerned that little maiden. + +What Mrs. Shannon had not guessed was the fact that Old Captain and Mr. +Duval had discovered--or, rather, had been discovered by--two places +willing to pay good prices for their excellent whitefish and trout. The +_chef_ of a certain hotel noted for planked whitefish gave a standing +order for fish of a certain size. And a certain dining-car steward, +having once tasted that delicious planked fish, discovered where it was +to be obtained in a raw state and, thereafter, twice a week, ordered a +supply for his car. + +The townspeople, moreover, liked to buy fish from Old Captain's queer +shop in the end of his freight car. The third partner, Barney Turcott, +whose old sailboat had been equipped with a gasoline motor, had been +fortunate in his catches. Altogether, the season was proving a +satisfactory one. + +Sometimes Duval looked at his bankbook and sighed. He had vowed to save +the money because it was _right_ to save it for the unhappy purpose for +which he wanted it. But when he should have enough! Duval could not bear +to think of that moment. It meant a tremendous sacrifice--a horrible +wrench. Yet every penny, except what was actually needed for food, went +into the bank. And the fund was growing almost _too_ rapidly for Duval's +comfort. + +One evening, when Jeanne stepped over the high threshold of her father's +little room for her lesson--no matter how tired the fisherman might be, +the daily lesson was never omitted--she found Mr. Duval kneeling beside +the little old trunk. It was open and the tray had been lifted out. From +the depths below, her father had taken a number of fine white +shirts--what Old Captain called "b'iled shirts." A pair of shoes that +could have been made for no other feet than Léon Duval's--they were so +small, so trim, and yet so masculine--stood on the table. Beside them +were two pairs of neatly-rolled socks--of finest silk, had Jeanne but +known it. Still in the trunk were several neckties, a suit of fine +underwear, also a suit of men's clothing. + +Duval carefully lifted out the coat and slipped it on. It fitted him +very well. + +"Tell me, little one," said Duval, eagerly, "if it looks to you like the +coats worn by the well-dressed men of today?" + +"I--I don't think I've _seen_ very many well-dressed men--that is, to +notice their clothes," said Jeanne. + +"Nor I," said her father. "I am on the lake daytimes, where the +well-dressed are apt to wear white flannels and are nineteen years of +age. Often there is a pink parasol. The _lake_ fashions, I fear, are not +for a man of my sober years. In the evening, the well-dressed man is +either indoors or in his overcoat. I think I must ask you to do me a +favor." + +"I'd love to, Daddy. What is it?" + +"Tomorrow, you will be taking this book back to the library for me. On +the way there and on your way back, through the town, whenever you can, +walk behind a well-dressed gentleman. I want you to study the seams and +the tails of the coat. Now look well at these." + +Mr. Duval, decidedly dandified in his good coat, turned his back to his +daughter. + +"Observe the seams," said he. "The length of the tails, the set of the +sleeves at the shoulder. At the cut also in front; at the number of +buttons. Tomorrow, you must observe these same matters in the coats of +other men. Above all, my Jeanne, do not seem to stare. But keep your +eyes open." + +"I will, Daddy. I know exactly what you mean. When I made this pink +dress for myself and the things for Annie and Sammy, I looked at the +clothes on other children to see how wide to make the hems, how long to +make the sleeves, how high to make the necks, and where to make things +_puffy_." + +"And you made a very good job of it all, too, my little woman. I am +proud of your skill with the needle and greatly obliged to your good +friend, Old Captain. Now look again at the seams in the back and then +for our lesson. But first bring a plate of water and a large spoon. I +will teach you how to eat soup." + +The garments were put away and the trunk closed by the time Jeanne +returned. The soup lesson amused her greatly. + +"I can eat it much _faster_," she said, "the way Sammy does. And it's +hard, isn't it, not to make a single bit of noise! I think I'm getting +_funny_ lessons--sitting with both feet on the floor and standing with +my shoulders straight and cleaning my finger nails every day, and +brushing my teeth and holding my fork. And last night it was writing +letters. I liked to do that." + +"There is much more that I _should_ teach you, my Jeannette, that I am +unable. I am behind the times. Fashions have changed. Only a gentlewoman +could give you the things that you need. But books--and life--Ah, well, +little Jeanne, some day, you shall be your mother's true daughter and I +shall have done one good deed--at a very great cost. But take away these +dishes--you have eaten all your soup." + +"It was pretty _thin_ soup," laughed Jeanne. "What are we to try next?" + +"Another letter, I think." + +"That's good," said Jeanne. "I like to do letters, but I'm _so_ afraid +I'll forget and wipe my pen on this pink dress. I almost did last time." + +The next day Jeanne remembered about the coat. Unfortunately it was a +warm day and an inconvenient number of well-dressed men had removed +their coats and were carrying them over their arms. But those were +mostly stout men. She was much more interested in short, slender ones. +Happily, a few of slight build were able to endure their coats. +Jeanne's inquisitive eyes all but bored twin holes in the backs of a +number of very good garments. At first she had been very cautious, but +presently she became so interested in her queer pursuit that she forgot +that the clothes contained flesh and blood persons. + +Finally a sauntering young man wheeled suddenly to catch her very close +to his heels. + +"Say," said he, grinning at her, "I've walked twice around this triangle +to see if you were really following me. What's the object?" + +"It's--it's your coat," explained Jeanne, turning very crimson under her +dusky skin. + +"My coat! What's the matter with my coat?" + +"The--the style." + +"What! Isn't it stylish enough to suit you?" + +"It's the _seams_. I'm--I'm using them for a pattern." + +"Ah, I see. Behold the lady tailor, planning a suit of clothes for her +husband." + +"I _haven't_ any husband," denied Jeanne, indignantly. "I'm too young +to be married. But I'm awfully glad to see the _front_ of your coat. +I've seen a great many backs; but it's harder to get a good look at +fronts. Good-by." + +"Queer little kid!" said the young man, pausing to watch Jeanne's sudden +flight down the street. "Pretty, too, with those big black eyes. Looks +like a French child." + +In her flight, Jeanne overtook a boy of about her own height, but far +from her own size. He was stout and he puffed as he toiled up the hill. +Where had she seen that plump boy? Was it--yes, it _was_ the very boy +she had pulled out of the lake, that pleasant day in May, when the lake +was still cold. What _should_ she do if that grateful boy were to thank +her, right there in the street! Having passed him, she paused +irresolutely to look at him. After all, if he wished to thank her, he +might as well have a chance to get it over. + +But Jeanne needn't have been alarmed. Roger glanced at her, turned +bright scarlet, and dashed into the nearest shop. Jeanne, eying the +window, wondered what business a boy could possibly have in that +particular place. So did Roger after he got inside. It was a +hair-dresser's shop for ladies. He bolted out, tore past a bright pink +dress, and plunged into a tobacco shop. That at least was a safe harbor +for a _man_. + +"I guess," said Jeanne, surprised at Roger's sudden agility, "he didn't +know me in these clothes. Next time I'll speak to him." + +That night, Jeanne asked her father to try on the old coat, in order +that she might compare it with those she had seen. He slipped it on and +turned so that she might view it from all sides. + +"I'm afraid, Daddy," said she, sorrowfully, "that none of the _best_ +coats are quite like yours. You have _more_ seams, closer together and +not so straight. And your tails are longer. And you fold back +differently in front." + +"I feared so," said Mr. Duval. "This coat was not new when I laid it +away and the styles have changed perhaps more than I suspected." + +"I am sorry," apologized Jeanne. + +"I fear I am not," said Mr. Duval, with one of his rare smiles. "You +have put off an evil day--for _me_. It is too warm for lessons. Let us +pay Old Captain a visit. You must see the big trout that Barney brought +in today." + +Not only Barney's big trout but Barney himself was at Old Captain's. +Jeanne liked Barney. He was younger than either of his partners and so +exceedingly shy that he blushed whenever anybody looked at him. But he +sometimes brought candy to the Duval children and he whittled wonderful +boats. He never said anything, but he did a great deal of listening with +his large red ears. + +This time, at sight of Jeanne, Barney began to fumble awkwardly at his +pockets. Finally he pulled forth a large bag of peanuts and a small +brown turtle. He laid both in her lap, for by this time Jeanne was +perched on the bench outside the old car. + +"Thank you, Barney," smiled Jeanne. "We'll have a tea-party with the +peanuts tomorrow and I'll scoop out a tiny pond, some place, for the +turtle. Isn't he lovely!" + +Barney grinned, but made no other response. + +"I'm glad you folks come," chuckled Old Captain. "Barney here has nigh +about talked me to death." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A SHOPPING EXPEDITION + + +Still, it appeared, even the matter of the out-of-date coat could not +put off the evil day forever. One Saturday night--the only night that +stores were open in Bancroft--Mr. Duval took Jeanne to the business +section of the town, where they entered the very store in which Old +Captain had made his purchases. + +The month was September and the pink dress, washed many times by Jeanne +herself and dried in the full sunshine on the old dock, had faded to a +more becoming shade. + +Unlike the Captain, Léon Duval behaved quite like an ordinary shopper. +He carried himself with dignity and seemed to know exactly what he +wanted. He said: + +"Stockings for this little girl, if you please." + +The clerk, after a hasty glance at the rather shabby garments of her +customers, laid some cheap, coarse stockings on the counter. + +"Better ones," said Mr. Duval. + +"Not good enough," said he, rejecting a second lot. "Something thinner +and finer. Yes, these are better. Four pairs, please. + +"Now I shall want some underwear for her. Lisle-thread or balbriggan, I +think. Also two chemises, night-dresses, whatever petticoats are worn +now and a good, serviceable dress--a sailor suit, I think. And after +that shoes." + +"Why, Daddy!" gasped Jeanne. "I thought you were going to buy _nails_. +You _said_ nails." + +"Nails, too, perhaps; but first these." + +Jeanne regarded her father thoughtfully. He had always been very gentle +with her, but of late--yes, certainly--he had been very much kinder to +her. And now, all these clothes. Was he, perhaps, going to send her to a +real school--the big public school that stood so high that one could see +its distant roof from the wharf? A lack of proper clothing had +heretofore prevented her going--that, the distance, and her usefulness +at home. She was older now, she could manage the walk. Michael disliked +the task, but he _could_ look after the younger children. But with +_clothes_, she could go to school. That would be splendid. Perhaps, in +another year, Michael could have clothes, too. + +But how particular her father was about hers. The chemises must have a +little fine lace on them, he said. And the petticoats--the embroidery +must be finer. Yes, the blue serge dress with the fine black braid on +the sailor collar would do nicely. And next, a small, neat hat. + +Jeannette gasped again. A hat! She had never worn a hat except when she +had gone "up town" and then it hadn't been any special hat--just +anybody's old cap. But, of course, if she went to school she'd need a +hat. + +"Now, if you please," said Mr. Duval, "we'd like to see some gloves." + +"Kid, or silk?" + +"Whichever is the more suitable." + +"It's getting late for silk. Maybe you'd better take kid." + +Mr. Duval did take kid ones. The sales-woman, with many a curious glance +at her unusual customers, fitted a pair of tan gloves to Jeanne's +unaccustomed fingers. Her fingers _wouldn't_ stay stiff. They doubled +and curled; but at last the gloves were on--and off again. Jeanne gave a +sigh of relief. + +Then there were shoes. Jeanne was glad that the holes in her stockings +were quite small ones. Supposing it had been her other pair! _All_ +holes! As it was, the man to whom the clerk had transferred her customer +seemed rather shocked to see _any_ holes. Was it possible that there +were people--even entire families--with _no_ holes in their stockings? +The fat boy that had tumbled off the wharf that morning and hadn't known +her afterwards in the new pink dress, probably that fortunate child had +whole stockings, because everything else about him seemed most +gloriously new and whole; but surely, the greater part of the +population went about in holes. Mollie, Mrs. Shannon, her father--even +Old Captain. She had seen _him_ put great patches in his thick woolen +socks. + +But what was the clerk putting on her feet! She had had shoes before. +Thick and heavy and always too large that they might last the longer. +Mollie had bought them, usually after the first snow had driven +barefooted Jeanne to cover. But never such shoes as these. Soft, smooth, +and only a tiny scrap longer than her slender foot. And oh, so softly +black! And then, a dreadful thought. + +"Daddy," said Jeanne, "I just love these shoes for _myself_; but I'm +afraid they won't _do_. You see, Sammy gets them next. They aren't +_boys'_ shoes." + +"These are _your_ shoes, not Sammy's," replied her father. + +When Mr. Duval had paid for all the wonderful things, they were tied in +three big parcels. Jeanne carried one, her father carried two. It was +dark and quite late when they finally reached the wharf. + +"We will say nothing about this at home," said Mr. Duval, when Jeanne +proposed stopping to show the things to Old Captain. "For the present, +we must hide them in the old trunk. I have no wish to talk about this +matter with anybody. It concerns nobody but us two. Can you keep the +secret--even from Old Captain?" + +"Why, I _guess_ so. Will it be _very_ long? I'm afraid it will bubble +and bubble until somebody hears it. And oh! That darling hat!" + +"Not long, I fear." + +"I'll try," promised Jeanne. + +"Give me that package. Now, run along to bed. I guess everybody else is +asleep." + +It was a long time before excited Jeanne was able to sleep, however. One +by one she was recalling the new garments. She wished that she might +have had the new shoes under her pillow for just that one night. + +Perhaps the only thing that saved the secret next day was the wonderful +tale that she told the children, after she had led them to the farthest +corner of the old wharf. + +"The beautiful princess," said she, "wore a lovely white thing called a +chemise--the _prettiest_ thing there ever was. It was trimmed with +lovely lace that had a blue ribbon run through it. There was a beautiful +white petticoat over that and on top of _that_ a dress." + +"What for," asked Sammy, the inquisitive, "did she cover up her pretty +chemise with all those things? Was she cold?" + +"Oh, no. Only _grand_. A chemise is to wear _under_." + +"I'm glad I'm not a princess," said Michael. "Botherin' all the time +with blue ribbons. Didn't she wear no crown?" + +"_Any_ crown. No, she had just a little dark blue hat the very color of +her dress, some brown gloves and oh! the _smoothest_ shoes. They fitted +her feet just like skin and she had stockings--" + +"Aw, cut out her clothes," said Michael. "What did she _eat_?" + +School had started. Jeanne knew it because on her last trip to the +library she had met a long procession of boys and girls hurrying +homeward; chattering as only school children can chatter. But still Mr. +Duval had said nothing to Jeannette about _going_ to school. The home +lessons went on as usual, and the wondering pupil hoped fervently that +she was not outgrowing that hidden wardrobe. _That_ would be too +dreadful. + +The following Saturday evening, Mr. Duval shopped again. This time, he +went alone; returning with more bundles. These, too, were concealed. The +wharf afforded many a convenient hiding place under its old planks; and +this time, even Jeanne failed to suspect that anything unusual had +happened during the evening. There were never any lessons Saturday +night; and this particular evening she had been glad of the extra time. +She was finishing the extra dress she had started for Annie, the red and +white striped calico. Mollie was in bed and asleep, Mrs. Shannon was +dozing over the stove, Jeanne sat close to the lamp, pushing her needle +through the stiff cloth. + +"There!" breathed Jeanne, thankfully. "The last button's on. Tomorrow +I'll dress Annie up and take her to call on Old Captain. He'll like her +because she'll look so much like the American flag." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE FLIGHT + + +Tuesday had been a wonderful day. Never had the lake or the sky seemed +so softly blue, the air so pleasant or the green bushes so nearly like +real trees. The two boys had been good all day and Annie and Patsy had +been _sweet_. There had been a late wild rose on the bush near Old +Captain's freight car--a deep rose streaked with crimson. The Captain, +heavy and clumsy, had scrambled up the bank to pluck it for Jeannette, +who had placed it carefully in a green glass bottle on her father's +little table. + +Her lesson the night before had been a queer one. Her father had taught +her how to dress herself in the new garments. Also, he had given her an +obviously new brush and comb, and had compelled her to use them to +reduce her almost-curly hair to a state of unaccustomed order. That had +taken a _very_ long time, because, when you have been using a very old +brush and an almost toothless comb your hair does get snarled in spite +of you. + +Her lessons were getting so queer, in fact, that she couldn't help +wondering what would come next. What came was the queerest thing of all. + +The rose in the green glass bottle on her father's table filled the +little room with fragrance. Again the door was fastened and the lid of +the trunk cautiously lifted. + +"Fix your hair as you did last night," directed Mr. Duval, in an odd, +rather choked voice. "Put on your clothes, just as you did last night. +Be very quiet about it. You were in the Pond today?" + +"Yes, Daddy." + +"Good! Then you are clean. I will wait outside until you are dressed." + +"Are we going some place, Daddy?" + +"Yes," replied her father, who had taken a parcel from the box on which +he usually sat. "Dress quickly, but neatly, and put on your hat. Put the +gloves in your pocket. Then sit quietly here until I come for you." + +Eyes shining, pulses leaping, Jeannette got into her new garments. But +where were the extra ones that had been in the trunk? The two frilly +night-dresses, the other chemise, the other petticoat, the extra +stockings? Never mind. Her father, she was sure, had taken good care of +them. + +"There! my hair's going better _this_ time. And my feet feel more at +home in these shoes. And oh! My white, white petticoat--how _nice_ you +are! I _never_ had truly _white_ things. I suppose a real princess has +heaps and heaps of them." + +Mr. Duval had neglected to supply stocking-straps. It is quite possible +that he didn't know that little girls' stockings were fastened that way. +Motherless Jeanne certainly didn't. Mollie's were never fastened at all. +Old Mrs. Shannon tied _hers_ with a string. Jeannette found two bits of +raveled rope, hanging from a nail. They, she thought, would answer the +purpose. + +"It's only for this evening," said Jeanne, eying with dissatisfaction +the bits of frayed rope. "I'll find something better tomorrow--some nice +pieces of pink calico like my dress, maybe." + +Next she got into the pretty sailor suit and smoothed it into place. +Then the good little dark blue hat was put on very carefully. Last of +all, Jeanne lifted down the small, cheap mirror that hung on the rough +wall. + +"I certainly do look _nice_," said she. "I think Elizabeth Huntington +would like me." + +Most anybody would have thought the same thing. Certainly her father did +when, a moment later, he opened the door. + +"Turn out the light," said he. "It is time to start." + +Hand-in-hand the pair stole silently along the pier to the low place +where Roger Fairchild had climbed out of the lake. Here a small boat +awaited them. In it were two rectangular objects that Jeanne did not +recognize. They were piled one on top of the other, and the little girl +was to sit on them. Blushing Barney Turcott had the oars. Evidently he +was to do the rowing. Duval climbed in and took the rudder strings. + +They were some distance from the dock, with the boat headed toward the +twinkling lights of Bancroft, before anybody said a word. After that, +while the men talked of fish, of nets, and of prices, Jeanne's +investigating fingers stole over the surface of the objects on which she +sat, until finally she discovered handles and straps. They were +suitcases! People coming out of the Bancroft station sometimes carried +them. Was it possible that she was to ride on a train or on one of the +big lake steamers that came four times a week to the big dock across the +Bay in the harbor of Bancroft? She who had never ridden in much of +anything! Where _could_ she be going? + +When they disembarked near the foot of Main Street, Mr. Duval handed a +letter to Barney Turcott. + +"Please hand this to Mrs. Duval tomorrow morning," said he. + +Barney nodded. Then, for once, he talked. + +"Pleasant journey, sir," said he. "Good-by, Jeanne. I suppose--" + +"Good-by," said Mr. Duval, taking the suitcases. "Come, Jeanne, we must +hurry." + +Jeanne wondered what Barney had supposed. + +"I have our tickets," said Mr. Duval, as the pair entered the station; +Jeanne blinking at the lights like a little owl. "Come this way. Our +train is over here." + +"Lower five and six," said he, to the colored man who stood beside the +train. Jeanne wondered if the colored gentleman owned it; she would ask +her father later. + +Then they were inside. Her eyes having become accustomed to the light, +Jeanne was using them. She didn't know which was the more astonishing, +the inside of the coach or her father. + +Like herself, Mr. Duval was clad throughout in new garments. He wore +them well, too. Spotless collar and cuffs, good shoes and socks, and a +suit that had the right number of seams in the proper places. He was all +right behind, he was all right in front. Jeanne eyed him with pride and +pleasure. + +"Why, Father!" she said. "You don't even _smell_ of fish." + +"I'm glad to hear it," said he, his eyes very bright and shining. +"Before I came to Bancroft I was dressed every day like this--like a +gentleman. So you like me this way, eh?" + +"That way and _any_ way," she said. "But, Father. Where are we going?" + +"You will sleep better if I tell you nothing tonight. Don't +worry--that's all." + +"But, Daddy, are we going to _sleep_ here? I don't see any beds." + +Presently, however, the porter began pulling beds right out of the air, +or so it seemed to Jeanne. Some came down out of the ceiling, some came +up out of the floor--and there you were, surrounded by beds! Oh, what a +fairy story to tell the children! + +A few whispered instructions and Jeanne knew how to prepare for bed, and +how to get up in the morning. Also what to do with her clothes. + +"We change in Chicago in the morning," added her father; "so you must +hop up quickly when I call you." + +Jeanne could hardly sleep for the joy of her lovely white night-dress. +Never had the neglectful Shannons provided her with anything so white +and soft and lovely as that night-dress for _daytime_, let alone night. +Disturbing, too, was the motion of the train, the alarming things that +rushed by in the darkness, the horrible grinding noises underneath, as +if the train were breaking in two and shrieking for help. How _could_ +one sleep! + +But finally she did. And then her father's hand was on her shoulder. +After that, only half awake, she was getting into her clothes. Oh, +_such_ a jiggly, troublesome business! And one rope garter had broken +right in two. + +Next they were off the train and eating breakfast in a great big noisy +station that seemed to be moving like the cars. Jeanne was whisked from +this into something that really moved--a taxicab. After that, another +train--a _day_ coach, her father said. Jeannette was thankful that she +didn't have to go to bed in _that_; but oh, how her head whirled! + +And now, with the darkness gone, all the world was whizzing past her +window. A shabby world of untidy backyards and smoke-blackened houses, +huddled horribly close together--at least the Duvals had had no untidy +neighbors and certainly there had been plenty of elbow room. But now the +houses were farther apart. Presently there were none. The country--Oh, +that was _much_ better. If one could only walk along that woodsy road or +play in that pleasant field! + +"Jeanne," said Mr. Duval, touching her hand softly, "I'll tell you now +where we are going. It happens that you have a grandfather. His name is +William Huntington--your mother's father, you know. Some weeks ago I +wrote to an old friend to ask if he were still living. He is. Your +mother's brother Charles and his family live with him: a wife and three +children, I believe. Your aunt is undoubtedly a lady, since your uncle's +marriage was, I understand, pleasing to his family. Your mother was away +from home at the time of our marriage and I met only her parents +afterwards. Your grandfather I could have liked, had he liked me. Your +grandmother--she is dead now--seemed the more unforgiving. Yet, neither +forgave." + +"Do they know about _me_?" asked Jeanne. + +"They knew that you were living at the time of your mother's death. I +want them to _see_ you. If they like you, it will be a very good thing +for you. It is, I think, the _only_ way that I can give you what your +mother would have wanted you to have; the right surroundings, the proper +friends, education, accomplishments. You are nearly twelve and you have +had _nothing_. If anything were to happen to me, I should want you with +your mother's people rather than with Mollie. This--visit will--help +you, I think." + +"Shall I like my grandfather? And my uncle? I've never had any of +_those_, you know." + +"I hope so." + +"But not as well as you, Daddy, not _half_ as well--" + +"We won't talk about it any more just now, if you please. See that load +of ripe tomatoes--a big wagon heaped to the top. We don't have such +splendid fruit in our cold climate. See, there is a farm. Perhaps they +came from there. Such big barns and comfortable houses." + +"Daddy," said Jeanne, "what does a lady do when her stocking keeps +coming down and coming down? This morning I broke the rope--" + +"The rope!" exclaimed astonished Mr. Duval. + +Jeanne hitched up her skirt to display the remaining wisp of rope. + +"Like that," she said. + +"My poor Jeannette," groaned Léon Duval, "it is certainly time that you +were with your mother's people. You need a gentlewoman's care." + +"But, Daddy. You said we'd be on this train all day, and it's only nine +now. My stocking drops all the way down. Haven't you a bit of fish-twine +anywhere about you?" + +"Not an inch," lamented Mr. Duval. "But perhaps the porter might have a +shoestring." + +"Shoestring? Yass, suh," said the porter. "Put it in your shoe foh you, +suh?" + +"No, thank you," replied Mr. Duval, gravely; but Jeannette giggled. + +"Daddy, if you'll spread your newspaper out a good deal, I think I can +fix it. There! That's ever so much better." + +They spent the night in a hotel; Jeanne in a small, but _very_ clean +room--the very cleanest room she had _ever_ seen. She examined and +counted the bed-covers with much interest, and admired the white +counterpane. + +But she liked the outside of her snowy bed better than the inside, after +she had crawled in between the clammy sheets. + +"I wish," shivered Jeanne, "that Annie and Sammy were here with me--or +even Patsy, if he _does_ wiggle. It's so smooth and cold. I don't +believe I like smooth, cold places." + +Poor little Cinder from the Cinder Pond! She was to find other smooth, +cold places; and to learn that there were smooth, cold persons even +harder to endure than chilly beds. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ARRIVAL + + +In the morning Jeanne dressed again in her new clothes. Then the +travelers had breakfast. By this time, you may be sure, Jeanne was very +grateful for her father's past instructions in table manners. They had +proved particularly useful in the dining-car, where Mr. Duval had added +a few more lessons to fit napkins, finger-bowls, and lamb chops. + +After a leisurely meal, they got into a street car in which they rode +for perhaps twenty minutes along paved streets lined with high buildings +or large houses very close together. Then they got out and walked along +several blocks of very hard pavement, until they came to a large gray +house with a tall iron fence. They climbed a number of stone steps +leading to a tightly closed, forbidding door. + +"Your grandfather lives here," said Mr. Duval, ringing the bell. + +A very stiff butler opened the door, ushered them in, and told them to +be seated in a very stiff reception-room, while he presented the letter +that Mr. Duval had handed him. Jeanne eyed the remote ceiling with +wonder and awe. + +The butler returned presently with six persons at his heels. They had +evidently risen hastily from the breakfast table, for two of them had +brought their napkins with them. A very tremulous old man, a large, +rather handsome woman, a stout, but decidedly mild-looking gentleman, +two tall girls, and a boy; all looking as if they had just had a shock +of some kind. They did not shake hands with Mr. Duval. They all gazed, +instead, at Jeanne. A great many eyes for so small a target. Jeanne +could feel herself shrinking under their piercing glances. For what +seemed like a very long time, no one spoke. But oh, how they looked and +looked and looked! Finally, Mr. Duval broke the embarrassing silence. + +[Illustration: JEANNE, LEFT ALONE WITH THE STRANGERS, INSPECTED THEM +WITH INTEREST] + +"You have read my letter?" he asked, addressing the older man. + +"Yes." + +"Then pardon me, if I suggest that you grant me an interview apart from +these young people. I have much to say to you, Mr. Huntington." + +"In here," said the mild gentleman, opening a door. + +"Remain where you are, Jeannette," prompted her father. + +Jeannette, left alone with the strangers, inspected them with interest. +The girls looked like their mother, she decided; rather smooth and +polished on the outside--like whitefish, for instance, with round, hard +grayish eyes. The boy's eyes were different; yellow, she thought, or +very pale brown. His upper lip lifted in a queer way, as if nothing +quite pleased him. They were all rather colorless as to skin. She had +seen children--there had been several on the train, in fact--whose looks +were more pleasing. + +She began to wonder after a while if somebody ought not to say +something. Was it _her_ place to speak? But she couldn't think of a +thing to say. She felt relieved when the three young Huntingtons began +to talk to one another. Now and again she caught a familiar word; but +many of their phrases were quite new to her. At any rate, they were not +speaking French; she had heard her father speak that. She had heard too +little slang to be able to recognize or understand it. + +Jeanne had risen from her chair because her father had risen from his. +She thought now that perhaps she ought to resume her seat; but no one +had said, as Old Captain always did: "Set right down, Honey, an' stay as +long as ye like." Visiting Old Captain was certainly much more +comfortable. + +Still doubtful, Jeanne took a chance. She backed up and sat down, but +Harold, yielding to one of his sudden malicious impulses, jerked the +chair away. Of course she landed on the floor. Worst of all, her skirt +pulled up; and there, for all the world to see, was a section of frayed +rope dangling from below her knee. The shoestring showed, too. + +For half a dozen seconds the young Huntingtons gazed in silence at this +remarkable sight. Then they burst into peals of laughter. The fact that +Jeanne's eyes filled with tears did not distress them; they continued to +laugh in a most unpleasant way. + +Jeanne scrambled to her feet, found her chair, and sat in it. + +"Who are you, anyway?" asked the boy. "The letter you sent in gave the +family a shock, all right. And we've just had another. Elastic must be +expensive where you came from; or is that the last word in +stocking-supporters? Hey, girls?" + +His sisters tittered. Poor Jeanne writhed in her chair. No one had +_ever_ been unkind to her. Even Mrs. Shannon, whose tongue had been +sharp, had never made her shrink like that. + +"I am Jeannette Duval," returned the unhappy visitor. "My mother was +Elizabeth Huntington. This is where my grandfather lives." + +"Goodness!" exclaimed the taller of the two girls, whose name was Pearl; +"she must be related to _us_!" + +"Elizabeth Huntington is the aunt that we aren't allowed to mention, +isn't she?" asked the younger girl. + +"Yes," returned the boy. "She ran away and married a low-down Frenchman +and my grandfather turned her out. That old gardener we had two years +ago used to talk about it. _He_ said she was the best of all the +Huntingtons, but of course he was crazy." + +"Say, Clara," said the older girl, "we'll be late for school. You, too, +Harold." + +The three deserted Jeanne as unceremoniously as they did the furniture. +Left alone, Jeanne looked about her. The floor was very smooth and +shiny. There were rugs that looked as if they might be interesting, +close to. There were chairs and tables with very slender, +highly-polished legs. There was a large mirror built into the wall--part +of the time she had seen six cousins instead of three--and a big +fireplace with a white-and-gold mantel. + +"That's a queer kind of stove," thought Jeanne, noting the gas log. + +After a thousand years (it seemed to Jeanne) the four grown-ups +returned. Her father came first. + +"You are to stay here for five years," said he, taking her hands in his. +"After that, we shall see. We have all decided that it is best for you +to be here with your mother's people. They have consented to care for +you. I shall pay, as I can, for what you need. For the rest, you will be +indebted to the kindness of your grandfather. I need not tell you, my +Jeanne, to be a good girl. You will write to me often and I will write +to you. And now, good-by. I must go at once to make my train." + +He kissed Jeanne first on one cheek, then on the other, French-fashion; +then, with a gesture so graceful and comprehensive that Jeanne flushed +with pride to see it, Léon Duval took leave of his relatives-in-law. + +"He _isn't_ a low-down Frenchman and I _know_ it," was her comforting +thought. + +Poor child, the rest of her thoughts were not so comforting. Five years! +Not to see her wonderful father again for five years. Not to see +good-natured Mollie, or Michael or Sammy or Annie or Patsy--Why, Patsy +would be a great big boy in five years. There would be no one to make +clothes for the children, no one to make Annie into a lady--she had +firmly intended to do that. Unselfish mite that she was, her first +distressing thoughts were for the other children. + +"A maid will come for you presently," said the large, smooth lady, +addressing Jeanne, "and will show you your room. I will look through +your clothes later to see what you need. I am your Aunt Agatha. This is +your Uncle Charles. This is your grandfather. I must go now to see about +your room." + +Her Uncle Charles nodded carelessly in her direction, looked at his +watch, and followed his wife. + +The room to which the maid escorted Jeanne was large, with cold gray +walls, a very high ceiling, and white doors. The brass bed was wide, +very white and smooth. The pillows were large and hard. The towels that +hung beside the stationary basin looked stiff and uninviting. Jeanne +wondered if one were supposed to unfold those towels--it seemed a pity +to wrinkle their polished surface. Altogether it was not a cosy room; +any more than Mrs. Huntington was a cosy person. + +Jeanne turned hopefully to the large window. There was another house +very close indeed. The gray brick wall was not beautiful and the nearest +window was closely shuttered. + +"Where," asked Jeanne, turning to the maid, who still lingered, "is the +lake?" + +"The lake!" exclaimed the maid. "Why, there isn't any lake. There's a +small river, they say, down town, somewhere. _I_ never saw it--pretty +dirty, I guess. When your trunk comes, push this button and I'll unpack +for you, if you like. There's your suitcase. You can use these drawers +for your clothes--maybe you'd like to put them away yourself. I'll go +now." + +Jeanne was glad that she had her suitcase to unpack. It was something to +do. But when she opened it, kneeling on the floor for that purpose, she +found that it contained two articles that had not been there earlier in +the morning. She remembered that her father had closed it for her on the +train. Perhaps _he_ had put something inside. + +There was a small, new purse containing a few coins--two dollars +altogether. It seemed a tremendous sum to Jeanne. The other parcel +seemed vaguely familiar. Jeanne removed the worn paper covering. + +"Oh!" she breathed rapturously. + +There was her mother's beautiful lace handkerchief wrapped about the +lovely little miniature of her mother. Her father, who had cherished +these treasures beyond anything, had given them to _her_. And he had +not told her to take good care of them--he had _known_ that she would. + +"Oh, _Daddy_," she whispered, "it was _good_ of you." + +When Jeanne, who had had an early breakfast, had come to the conclusion +that she was slowly but surely starving to death, the maid, whose name +proved to be Maggie, escorted her to the dining-room. + +In spite of her father's instructions, she made mistakes at the table, +principally because there were bread and butter knives and bouillon +spoons invented since the days of Duval's young manhood. At least, +however, she didn't eat with her knife. Unhappily, whenever she did the +wrong thing, one or another of her cousins laughed. That made her +grandfather frown. Some way, embarrassed Jeanne was glad of that. + +She was to learn that her cousins were much better trained in such +matters as table manners than in kind and courteous ways toward other +persons. Their mother was conventional at all times. She _couldn't_ have +used the wrong fork. But there were certain well-bred persons who said +that Mrs. Huntington had the very _worst_ manners of anybody in her set; +that she never thought of anybody's feelings but her own; but the +self-satisfied lady was far from suspecting any such state of affairs. +She thought herself a _very_ nice lady; and considered her children most +beautifully trained. + +Happily, by watching the others, Jeanne, naturally bright and quick, +soon learned to avoid mistakes. As she was also naturally kind, her +manners were really better, in a short time, than those of the young +Huntingtons. + +Her new relatives, particularly the younger ones, asked her a great many +questions about her former life. Had she really never been to school? +Weren't there any schools? Was the climate _very_ cold in Northern +Michigan? Were the people very uncivilized? Were they Indians or +Esquimaux? What was her home like? What was the Cinder Pond? Sometimes +the children giggled over her replies, sometimes they looked scornful. +Almost always, both Mr. and Mrs. Huntington appeared shocked. It wasn't +so easy to guess what old Mr. Huntington thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A NEW LIFE + + +At the conclusion of Jeanne's first uncomfortable meal with her new +relatives, Mrs. Huntington detained the children, for a moment, in the +dining-room. + +"Next week," said she, "Jeannette will be going to school. You are not +to tell the other pupils nor any of your friends, nor the maids in this +house, anything of her former life. And you, too, Jeannette, will please +be silent concerning your poverty and the fact that your father was a +common fishman." + +"Gee!" scoffed Harold, holding his nose. "A fishman!" + +"He was a _gentleman_," replied Jeanne, loyally. "He was _not_ common. +Mollie was common, but my father wasn't." + +"No gentleman _could_ be a fishman," returned Mrs. Huntington, who +really supposed she was telling the truth. "You will remember, I hope, +not to mention his business!" + +"Yes'm," promised Jeanne, meekly. + +"Yes, Aunt Agatha," prompted Mrs. Huntington. + +"Yes, Aunt Agatha," said Jeanne, thoroughly awed by the large, cold +lady. + +"Now we will see what you need in the way of clothes. Of course you have +nothing at all suitable." + +Jeanne followed her aunt upstairs. Mrs. Huntington noted with surprise +that the garments in the drawers were neatly folded. Also that they were +of astonishing fineness. + +"Did your stepmother buy these!" asked the lady. + +"No. My father." + +"These handkerchiefs, too!" + +"Yes, he bought _everything_." + +"But you have only six. And not enough of anything else. And only this +one dress!" + +"That's all. Father didn't put any of my old things in. They weren't +much good--I suppose Annie will have my pink dress." + +Mrs. Huntington wrote many words on a slip of paper. + +"I shall shop for these things at once," said she. "You need a jacket +and rubbers before you can go to school. Of course you haven't any +gloves." + +"Yes, ma'am--yes, Aunt Agatha. Here, in this drawer." + +"They're really very good," admitted Mrs. Huntington. "But you will need +a heavier pair for everyday." + +"And something for my stockings," pleaded Jeanne. "I guess father didn't +know what to get. You see, most of the time I went barefoot--" + +"Mercy, child!" gasped Mrs. Huntington, looking fearfully over her +shoulder. "You mustn't tell things of that sort. They're _disgraceful_. +Maggie might have _heard_ you." + +"I'll try not to," promised Jeanne. "But my stockings _won't_ stay up." + +Mrs. Huntington wrote another word or two on her list. + +"Anything else?" she asked. + +"Things to write a letter with--oh, please, ma'am--Aunt Agatha, could I +have those? I want to write to my father--he taught me how, you know." + +"Maggie will put writing materials in the drawer of that table," +promised Mrs. Huntington. "I'll ring for them now. I'm glad that you can +at least read and write; but you _must_ not say 'Ma'am.' That word is +for servants." + +"I'll try to remember," promised Jeanne. + +Jeannette's first letter to her father would probably have surprised +Mrs. Huntington had she read it. Perhaps it is just as well that she +didn't. + + +DEAR DADDY [wrote Jeanne]: + +The picture is safe. The handkerchief is safe. The purse is safe. And so +am I. I am _too_ safe. I should like to be running on the edge of the +dock on the dangerous side, almost falling in. See the nice tail on the +comma. I like to make commas, but I use more periods. The periods are +like frog's eggs in the Cinder Pond but the commas are like pollywogs +with tails. That's how I remember. + +Mrs. Huntington is not like Mollie. Mollie looks soft all over. Some day +I shall put my finger very softly on Mrs. Huntington to see if she feels +as hard as she looks. Her back would be safest I think. She is very kind +about giving me things but I do not know her very well yet. She does not +cuddle her children like Mollie cuddles hers. She is too hard and smooth +to cuddle. + +There are little knives for bread and butter and they eat green leaves +with a funny fork. I ate a round green thing called an olive. I didn't +like it but I didn't make a face. I didn't know what to do with the seed +so I kept it in my mouth until I had a chance to throw it under the +table. Was that right? + +There is no lake. They get water out of pipes but not in a pail. Hot and +cold right in my room. Maggie, she is the maid, showed me how to make a +light. You push a button. You push another and the light goes out. She +said two years ago this house was all made over new inside. + +This is another day. My bed is very big and lonesome. I am like a little +black huckleberry in a pan of milk when I am in it. I can see in the +glass how I look in bed. I have a great many new clothes. I have tried +them on. Some do not fit and must go back. I have a brown dress. It is +real silk to wear on Sunday. I have a white dress. It looks like white +clouds in the sky. And a red jacket. And more under things but I like +the ones you bought the best, because I like _you_ best. + +This is four more days. I have been to church. I stood up and sat down +like the others. I liked the feathers on the ladies' hats and the little +boys in nightgowns that marched around and sang. Next Sunday I am to go +to Sunday School. Mrs. Huntington says I am a Heathen. + +I got a chance to touch her. Her back _is_ hard. Now I will say good-by. +But I like to write to you; so I hate to send it away but I will begin +another letter right now. Maggie will put this in the letter box for me. +I like Maggie but I am afraid I will tell her about my past life. Mrs. +Huntington says I must never mention bare feet or fish. + + Yours truly, + JEANNETTE HUNTINGTON DUVAL. + +P.S.--Mrs. Huntington told a lady I was that, but _you_ know I am just +your Jeanne. I love you better than anybody. + + +Jeanne, you will notice, made no complaints against her rude young +cousins and passed lightly over matters that had tried her rather +sorely. From her letters, her father gathered that she was much happier +than she really was. Perhaps nobody _ever_ enjoyed a letter more than +Mr. Duval enjoyed that first one. He went to the post office to get it +because no letter-carrier could be expected to deliver mail to a +tumble-down shack on the end of a long, far-away dock. He read it in the +post office. He read it again in Old Captain's freight car, and when +Barney Turcott came in, he too had to hear it. + +Then Mollie read it. And as she read, her face was quite beautiful with +the "mother-look" that Jeanne liked--it was the only attractive thing +about Mollie. Then the children awoke and sat up in their bunks to hear +it read aloud. Poor children! they could not understand what had become +of their beloved Jeanne. + +Afterwards, Mr. Duval laid the letter away in his shabby trunk, beside +the little green bottle that still held a shriveled pink rose, the late +wild rose that Jeanne had left on his table that last day. He had found +what remained of it, on his return from his journey. It was certainly +very lonely in that little room evenings, without those lessons. + +Jeannette Huntington Duval found school decidedly trying at first. The +pupils _would_ pry into her past. Their questions were most +embarrassing. Even the teachers, puzzled by many contradictory facts, +asked questions that Jeanne could not answer without mentioning poverty +or fish. + +Yes, she had lived in the country (_is_ on a dock "in the country"? +wondered truthful Jeanne). No, she _truly_ didn't know what a theater +was; and she had never had a birthday party nor been to one. What did +_keeping_ one's birthday mean? Jeanne had asked. How _could_ one give +her birthday away! Of _course_ she knew all the capitals of South +America. Mountains and rivers, too. She could draw maps showing them +all--she _loved_ to draw maps. But asparagus--what was that? And velvet? +And vanilla? And plumber? + +"Really," said Miss Wardell, one day, after a lesson in definitions, +"you _can't_ be as ignorant as you seem. You _must_ know the meaning of +such words as jardinière, tapestry, doily, mattress, counterpane, +banister, newel-post, brocade. Didn't you live in a house?" + +"Yes'm--yes, Miss Wardell," stammered Jeanne, coloring as a vision of +the Duval shack presented itself. + +"Didn't you sleep on a mattress?" + +Jeanne hung her head. She had guessed that that thick thing on her bed +was a mattress, but how was she to confess that hay in a wooden bunk had +been her bed! Fortunately, Jeanne did not _look_ like a child who had +slept on hay. She was small and daintily built. Her hands and feet were +beautifully shaped. Her dark eyes were soft and very lovely, her little +face decidedly bright and attractive. She suffered now for affection, +for companionship, for the freedom of outdoor life; but never for food +or for suitable garments. It is to be feared that Mrs. Huntington, +during all the time that she looked after Jeannette, put _clothes_ +before any other consideration. The child was always properly clad. + +Unfortunately, in spite of all Jeanne's precautions, her cousins +succeeded in dragging from her all the details of her former poverty. +They never got her alone that they didn't trap her into telling things +that she had meant _not_ to tell. At those times, even Harold seemed +almost kind to her. + +Mean children, they were pumping her, of course, but for a long time +honest Jeanne did not suspect them of any such meanness. After they had +learned all that there was to know, Jeanne's eyes were opened, and +things were different. Sometimes Harold, in order to embarrass her, told +his boy friends a weird tale about her. + +"That's our cousin, the Cinder Pond Savage," Harold would say. "Her only +home was a drygoods box on the end of a tumble-down dock. She sold fish +for a living and ate all that were left over. She never ate anything +_but_ fish. She had nineteen stepsisters with red hair, and a cruel +stepmother, who was a witch. She wore a potato sack for a dress and +never saw a shoe in her life until last month. When captured, she was +fourteen miles out in the lake chasing a whale. Step right this way, +ladies and gentlemen, to see the Cinder Pond Savage." + +Harold's friends seemed to consider this amusing; but Jeanne found it +most embarrassing. The strange boys always eyed her as if she really +were some little wild thing in a trap. She didn't like it. + +Clara put it differently. "My cousin, Jeanette Huntington Duval, has +always lived on my uncle's estate in the country. She didn't go to +school, but had lessons from a tutor." + +But, however they put it, Jeannette realized that she was considered a +disgrace to the family, a relative of whom they were all secretly +ashamed. And her father, her good, wonderful father, was considered a +common, low-down Frenchman, who had married her very young mother solely +because she was the daughter of a wealthy man. + +"I don't believe it," said Jeanne, when Clara told her this. "My father +_never_ cared for money. That's why he's poor. And he's much easier to +be friends with than _your_ father--and he reads a great many more books +than Uncle Charles does, so I know he isn't ignorant, even if you do +think he is. Besides, he writes beautiful letters, with semicolons in +them! Did _your_ father write to you that time he was gone all summer?" + +Clara was obliged to admit that he hadn't. + +"But then," added Clara, cruelly, "a _real_ gentleman always hires a +stenographer to write his letters. He doesn't _think_ of doing such +things himself, any more than he'd black his own boots." + +"Then," said Jeanne, defiantly, "I'm glad my father's just a fishman." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A HELPFUL GRANDFATHER + + +During that first winter, Jeanne was fairly contented. Her school work +was new and kept her fairly busy, and in her cousins' bookshelves she +discovered many delightful books for boys and girls. Heretofore, she had +read no stories. She had been too busy rearing Mollie's family. + +Shy and sensitive, for several months she made no real friends among her +schoolmates. How _could_ she, with a horrible past to conceal? To be +sure, when she thought of the big, beautiful lake, the summer days on +the old dock, the lovely reflections in the Cinder Pond, the swallows +going to bed in the old furnace chimney, the red sun going down behind +the distant town, the kind Old Captain, the warm affection of Mollie's +children, not to mention the daily companionship of her nice little +father, it seemed as if her past had been anything _but_ horrible. But +no city child, she feared, would ever be able to understand that, when +even the grown-ups couldn't. + +From the very first, her Uncle Charles had seemed not to like her. And +sometimes it seemed to Jeannette that her Aunt Agatha eyed her coldly +and resentfully. She couldn't understand it. + +But James, the butler, and Maggie, the maid, sometimes gossiped about +it, as the best of servants will gossip. + +"It's like this," said James, seating himself on the corner of the +pantry table. "Old Mr. Huntington is the real master of this house. +Young Mrs. Huntington comes next. Mr. Charles is just a puddin'-head." + +"You mean figure-head," said Maggie. + +"Same thing. Now, Mr. Huntington owns all this (James's comprehensive +gesture included a large portion of the earth's surface), and naturally +Mr. Charles expects to be the heir, when the old gentleman passes away. +Now, listen (James's voice dropped, confidentially). There's a young +nephew of mine in Ball and Brewster's law-office. One day, when he was +filing away a document with the name Huntington on it, he mentioned me +being here, to another clerk--Old Pitman, it was. Well, Old Pitman said +it was himself that had made a copy of old Mr. Huntington's will, +leaving all that he had to his son Charles. Now lookee here. Supposin' +old Mr. Huntington was to soften toward his dead daughter for runnin' +away with that Frenchman, and was to make a new will leavin' everything +to his grand-child--that new little girl. Between you and me, she's a +sight better child than them other three put together." + +"He wouldn't," said Maggie. "Of course, he might leave her _something_." + +"That's it. Mark my words, Mr. and Mrs. Charles can't warm to that child +because they're afraid of her; afraid of what she might get. She's a +frozen terror, Missus is." + +"Well, they're as cold to her as a pair of milk cans, them two. Maybe +that's the reason." + +Possibly it was. And it is quite possible, too, that neither Mr. nor +Mrs. Charles Huntington realized the reason for their lack of +cordiality. Only, they were _not_ cordial. + +At first, Jeanne had seen but little of her grandfather. On pleasant +days he sat with his book in the fenced-in garden behind the house. On +chilly days, he sat alone in his own sitting-room, where there was a gas +log. But sometimes, at the table, he would ask Jeanne questions about +her school work. + +"Well, Jeannette, how about school! Are you learning a lot?" + +"Ever so much," Jeanne would reply. "There are so many things _to_ +learn." + +One day, when he asked the usual question, Jeannette's countenance grew +troubled. + +"Next week," she confided, "we are to have written examinations in +_everything_ and there are a thousand spots where I haven't caught up +with the class. Mathematics, language, United States history, and +French. The books are different, you see, from the ones I had. I'll have +to _cram_. Mathematics are the worst. I _can't_ do the examples." + +"Suppose you bring them to me, after lunch. I used to think I was a +mathematician." + +That was the beginning of a curious friendship between the little girl +and the very quiet old man. After that, there was hardly a day in which +Jeanne, whose class was ahead of her in mathematics, did not appeal for +help. + +She liked her grandfather. He seemed nearer her own age than anyone else +in the house. You see, when people get to be ninety or a hundred, they +are able to be friends with persons who are only seventy or eighty--a +matter of twenty years makes no difference at all. Mr. Huntington was +sixty-eight, which is old enough to enjoy a friendship of _any_ age. + +But when people are young like Pearl and Clara, two years' difference in +their ages makes a tremendous barrier. Clara was almost three years +older than Jeanne, and Pearl was fourteen months older than Clara. +Harold was younger than his sisters but older than Jeanne, who often +seemed younger than her years. + +Pearl and Clara looked down, with scorn, upon _any_ child of twelve. +Indeed, they had been born old. Some children are, you know. Also, it +seemed to their grandfather, they had been born _impolite_. For all that +they called her "The Cinder Pond Savage," Jeanne's manners were really +very good. She seemed to know, instinctively, how to do the right thing; +that is, after she became a little accustomed to her new way of living. +And she was always very considerate of other people's feelings. So was +her grandfather, most of the time. But Mrs. Huntington wasn't; and her +children were very like her; cold, self-centered, and decidedly +snobbish. + +Jeanne was quite certain that her girl cousins had never _played_. +Harold, to be sure, occasionally played jokes on the younger members of +the family or on the servants; but they were usually rather cruel, +unpleasant jokes, like putting a rat in Maggie's bed, or water in +Pearl's shoes, or spiders down Clara's back. For Jeanne, he reserved the +pleasant torture of teasing her about her father. + +"Ugh!" he would say, holding Jeanne's precious mail as far as possible +from him, while, with the other hand, he held his nose, "this must be +for you--it smells of fish. Your father must have sold a couple while he +was writing this." + +Sometimes he would point to shoe advertisements in the papers, with: +"Here's your chance, Miss Savage. No need to go barefoot when your five +years are up. Just lay in a whopping supply of shoes, all sizes, at +one-sixty-nine." + +His grandfather liked his youngest grandchild's manners. He told +himself, once he even told his son, that he couldn't possibly give any +affection to the daughter of "that wretched Frenchman" who had stolen +_his_ daughter. Perhaps he couldn't, just at first. No doubt, he +_thought_ he couldn't. But he _did_. 'Way down in his lonesome old +heart he was glad that mathematics were hard for her, because he was +glad that she needed his help. + +"Just what are you thinking?" asked her grandfather, one day. + +"I was making an example," explained Jeanne. "I've been here seven +months. That leaves four years and five months; but the last two months +went faster than the first two. If five years seemed like a thousand +years to begin with, and the last two months--" + +"I refuse," said her grandfather, with a sudden twinkle in his eye, "to +tackle any such example as that." + +"Well," laughed Jeanne, "here's another. Miss Wardell asked us in school +today to decide what we'd like to do when we're grown up. We're to tell +her tomorrow." + +"Rather short notice, isn't it?" + +"Ye--es," said Jeanne. "You see, ever since I visited Miss Warden's +sister's kindergarten, I've thought I'd like to teach _that_. But I +thought I'd like to get married, too." + +"What!" gasped her grandfather. + +"Get married. I should like to bring up a family _right_--with the +proper tools. Old Captain says you have to have the proper tools to sew +with. _I_ think you have to have the proper tools to bring up a family. +Tooth-brushes and stocking-straps, smelly soap and cold cream and +underclothes." + +"Have you picked out a husband?" asked her grandfather. + +"That's the worst of it. You have to have one to earn money to buy the +proper tools. But it's a great nuisance to have a husband around, +Bridget says. She's had three; and she'd rather cook for Satan himself, +she says, than a husband!" + +"Jeannette! You mustn't repeat Bridget's conversations. Does Mrs. +Huntington like you to talk to the servants?" + +"No," returned Jeanne, blushing a little. "But--but sometimes I just +have to talk. You see--well, you see--" + +"Yes?" + +"Well, Bridget likes to be talked to. I'm not sure, always, that anybody +else--well, it's easy to talk to Bridget." + +"How about me?" + +"You come next," assured Jeanne. + +The next day Jeanne returned from school with her big black eyes fairly +sparkling. She went at once to her grandfather's room. + +"I've decided what I'm going to do," said Jeanne. "I'm going to be +married." + +"Why?" asked her grandfather. + +"Well, you see, if I had a kindergarten, I couldn't tuck the children in +at night. That's the very nicest part of children--tucking them in. But +the husband wouldn't need to be _much_ trouble. He could stay away all +day like Uncle Charles does. What does Uncle Charles _do_? When he isn't +at the Club, I mean?" + +"He is in a bank from nine until three every day." + +"Only that little bit? I guess I'd rather have an iceman. He gets up +very early and works all day, doesn't he? Anyway, Miss Wardell said I +didn't need to worry about picking _him_ out until I was twenty. +Sometimes I wish Aunt Agatha liked kittens and puppies, don't you? +They're so useful while you're waiting for your children." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +BANISHED FRIENDS + + +"I have a letter from Old Captain," confided Jeanne, that same +afternoon. "Don't you want to read it? You wouldn't laugh at it, _would_ +you?" + +"Certainly I wouldn't laugh," assured her grandfather, taking the +letter. + + +DEAR AND HONORED MISS [wrote Old Captain, in a large, sprawling hand]: + +This is to let you know that it is a warm day for April. The lake is +still froze. It seems as if the sun shines more when you are here. Sammy +lost his freckles for a while, but they come back again last week. +Michael and Annie were here yestiddy. He says your father is teaching +him to read. As I am a better hand with a boat-hook than I am with this +here pen, I will close, so no more at present. + +Your true friend and well-wisher, + + CAPTAIN JOHN BLOSSOM. + + +"Old Captain _is_ my true friend," explained Jeanne. "He taught me to +make dresses and things. But I've learned some more things about sewing +in school. I can put in a lovely patch, with the checks and stripes all +matching; and darn, and hem, and fell seams, and make buttonholes. Old +Captain's buttonholes were so funny. He cut them _round_ and all +different sizes. I'm ever so glad Michael is learning to read. It's too +far for small children to walk to school. Besides, their clothes--well, +their _best_ clothes aren't just right, you know. I guess they haven't +_any_ by this time." + +"Do you really like those children?" asked her grandfather. + +"I love them. Annie and Patsy are sweet and Sammy is so funny. He's so +curious that he gets too close to things and either tumbles in or gets +hurt. Once it was a wasp! I guess I couldn't live with people and not +like them a little." + +"Then you like your cousins?" + +"I--I haven't lived with them very long," evaded Jeanne. + +Her grandfather chuckled. _He_ had lived with them for quite a while. + +With the coming of June, Jeanne began to yearn more than ever for the +lake. She told Miss Wardell about it the day she had to stay after +school to redraw her map. + +"Jeannette," asked the teacher, "what possessed you to draw in all those +extra lakes? You know there are no lakes in Kansas." + +"That's why I put them in," explained Jeanne, earnestly. "There ought to +be. If there were a large lake in the middle of each state with all the +towns on the shore, it would be much nicer. But I didn't mean to hand +that map in, it was just a play map. You see, when you can't have any +real water you like to make pictures of it." + +"Are you lonesome for Lake Superior?" + +"Oh, yes. Last Sunday, when the minister read about the Flood I just +hoped it would happen again. Not enough to drown folks, you know, but +enough to make a lot of beautiful big lakes--enough to go round for +everybody." + +"You've been to the park?" + +"Yes, but the lake there isn't as big as our Cinder Pond, and its brick +edges are horrid. It looks _built_." + +"Of course it is artificial; but it's better than none." + +"Ye-es," admitted Jeanne, very doubtfully. "I guess I like real ones +best." + +Along toward spring, when her "past" had become a little more +comfortably remote, Jeanne had made a number of friends among her +classmates. She had particularly liked Lizzie McCoy because Lizzie's red +hair was even redder than that of the young Duvals, and her freckles +more numerous than Sammy's. And Lizzie had liked Jeanne. + +But when Lizzie had ventured to present herself at Mrs. Huntington's +door, she had been ushered by James into the awe-inspiring +reception-room, where Mrs. Huntington inspected her coldly. + +"I came," explained Lizzie, nervously, "to see Jeanne." + +"I don't seem to recall your name--McCoy. Ah, yes. What is your father's +business?" + +"He's a butcher," returned Lizzie. + +"Where do you live?" + +"Spring Street." + +Mrs. Huntington shuddered. Fancy anyone from Spring Street venturing to +ring at her exclusive portal! + +"Jeannette is not at home," said she. + +Susie Morris fared no better. Susie was round and pink and pleasant. +Everybody liked Susie. Several times she had walked home with Jeanne; +but they had always parted at the gate. + +"Do come in," pleaded Jeanne. "I'll show you my new party dress. It's +for the dancing school party; next week, you know." + +"All right," said Susie. + +The dress was lovely. Susie admired it in her shrill, piping voice. The +sound of it brought Mrs. Huntington down the hall to inspect the +intruder. + +"Jeannette," she asked, "who _is_ this child?" + +"Susie Morris. She's in my class." + +"What is her father's business?" + +"He's a carpenter," piped Susie. + +"Where do you live!" asked Mrs. Huntington. + +"Spring Street," confessed Susie. + +Mrs. Huntington shuddered again. _Another_ child from that horrible +street! A blind child could have seen that she was unwelcome. Susie, who +was far from blind, stayed only long enough to say good-by to Jeanne. + +"You must be more careful," said Mrs. Huntington, "in your choice of +friends." + +"Everybody likes Susie," returned Jeanne, loyally. + +"Her people are common," explained Mrs. Huntington. "I should be _glad_ +to have you bring Lydia Coleman or Ethel Bailey home with you." + +"I don't like them," said Jeanne. + +"Why not?" + +"There isn't a bit of fun in them," declared Jeanne, blushing because +their resemblance to her cousins was her real reason for disliking +them. + +"Well, there's Cora Farnsworth. Surely there's plenty of fun in Cora." + +"I don't like Cora, either. She says mean things just to _be_ funny," +explained Jeanne, who had often suffered from Cora's "fun." "I don't +like that kind of girls." + +"Lydia, Ethel, and Cora live _on the Avenue_," returned Mrs. Huntington. +"You _ought_ to like them. At any rate, you must bring no more East Side +children home with you. I can't have them in my house." + +Mrs. Huntington always talked about the Avenue as Bridget, who was very +religious, talked of heaven. When their ship came in, Mrs. Huntington +said, they should have a home in the Avenue. The old house they were in, +she said, was quite impossible. Old Mr. Huntington, Jeanne gathered, did +not wish to move to the more fashionable street. + +Jeanne wondered about that ship of Aunt Agatha's. The river--she had +seen it once--was a small, muddy affair. Surely no ship that could sail +up that shallow stream would be worth waiting for. She asked her +grandfather about it. + +Her grandfather frowned. "We won't talk about that ship," said he. "I +don't like it!" + +"Don't you like boats?" asked Jeanne. + +"Very much, but not that kind." + +Jeanne was usually a very well-behaved child, but one Saturday in June +she fell from grace. An out-of-town visitor, a very uninteresting friend +of Mrs. Huntington's, had expressed a wish to see the park. Pearl, +Clara, and Jeanne were sent to escort her there. It was rather a bracing +day. Walking sedately along the cement walks seemed, to high-spirited +Jeanne, a very tame occupation. Presently she lagged behind to feed the +crumbs she had thoughtfully concealed in her pocket to a sad squirrel +with a skinny tail. He was not half as nice as the chipmunks that +sometimes scampered out on the Cinder Pond dock, but he reminded her of +those cheerful animals. The squirrel seized a crumb and scampered up a +tree. Jeanne looked at the tree. + +"Why," said she, "it's a climb-y tree just like that big one on the bank +behind Old Captain's house. I wonder--" + +Off came Jeanne's jacket. She dropped it on the grass, seized the lowest +branch, and in three minutes was perched, like a bluebird, well toward +the top of the tree. + +About that time, her cousins missed her and turned back. Unhappily, the +park policeman noticed the swaying of the topmost branches of that +desecrated tree and hurried to investigate. Clara and Pearl arrived in +time to hear the policeman shout: + +"Here, boy! Come down from there. It's against the park rules to climb +trees." + +Jeanne climbed meekly down, much to the astonishment of the policeman, +who grinned when he saw the expected boy. + +"Well," said he, "you ain't the sort of bird I was lookin' for." + +"I should think," said Pearl, who was deeply chagrined, "you'd be +_ashamed_. At any rate, we're ashamed _of_ you." + +"I shall tell mother about it," said Clara, virtuously. (Clara's +principal occupation, it seemed to Jeanne, was telling mother.) "The +idea! Climbing trees in the park! Right before mother's company, too. I +don't wonder that Harold calls you the Cinder Pond Savage." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT FOUR A.M. + + +Jeanne spent a very dull summer. Part of the time, her cousins were +away, visiting their grandmother, Mrs. Huntington's mother. Jeanne had +eyed their departing forms a bit wistfully. + +"I wish," thought she, "they'd invited _me_." The sea, she was sure, +would prove almost as nice as Lake Superior, unless, of course, one +happened to be thirsty. Unfortunately, the grandmother had had room for +only three young guests. Possibly she had been told that Jeanne was a +"Little Savage," and feared to include her in her invitation. + +After school closed, she had only her grandfather, the garden, books, +and her music lessons. + +She _hated_ her music lessons from a cross old professor. It was bad +enough to hear Pearl and Clara practice, without doing it herself. Her +thoughts, when she practiced, were always gloomy ones. Once, downstairs, +Maggie had sung a song beginning: "I am always saddest when I sing." + +"And I," said Jeanne, in the big, lonely drawing-room, whose corners +were always dark enough to conceal most any lurking horror, "am always +saddest when I practice. I'd _much_ rather _make_ things--that's the +kind of fingers mine are." + +However, after she had discovered that two very deep bass notes rolled +together and two others, higher up, could be mingled to make a noise +like waves beating against the old dock, she felt more respect for the +piano. Perhaps, in time, she could even make it twitter like the +going-to-bed swallows. + +The garden had proved disappointing. Jeanne supposed that a garden meant +flowers--it did in Bancroft. But this was a city garden. The air was +always smoky, almost always dusty. The garden, except just after a +rain, never looked clean. There was a well-kept hedge, but it collected +dust and papers blown from the street. The best thing about it was the +large fountain, with three nymphs in the center, pouring water from +three big shells. The nymphs were about Jeanne's size and looked as if +they had been working for quite a number of years. Besides the fountain, +there were four vases of red geraniums, two very neat walks, and some +closely-trimmed, dusty grass. Also, some small evergreen trees, clipped +to look like solid balls, and one large elm. Her grandfather often sat +under the elm tree on an iron bench. Fortunately, he didn't object +seriously to caterpillars. + +One day, he discovered Jeanne, flat on her stomach, dipping her fingers +into the fountain. + +"My dear child!" said he, "what _are_ you doing?" + +"Just feeling to see how warm it is," said Jeanne, kicking up her heels +in order to reach deeper. "It's awfully cold, isn't it? If there +weren't so many windows and folks around, I think I'd like to go in +swimming." + +"Swimming! Can you swim?" + +"Of course," returned Jeanne. "I swam in the Cinder Pond." + +From time to time, homesick Jeanne continued to test the waters of the +fountain. In August, to her delight, she found the water almost +lukewarm. To be sure, the weather was all but sizzling. Her grandfather, +accustomed to seeing her dabble her fingers in the water, was far from +suspecting the shocking deed she was contemplating. + +Then the deed was accomplished. For thirteen blissful mornings, the +Cinder Pond Savage did something that made Harold seem, to his mother, +like a little white angel, compared with "that dreadful child from +Bancroft." Of course, it _was_ pretty dreadful. For thirteen days, +Jeanne slipped joyfully from her bed at four o'clock, crept down the +stairs, out of the dining-room door, and along the walk to the fountain. +She slipped out of her night-dress, slid over the edge, and, for +three-quarters of an hour, fairly revelled in the fountain. For thirteen +glorious mornings--and then--! + +Mrs. Huntington had had a troublesome tooth. She rose to find a capsicum +plaster to apply to her gum. To read the label, it was necessary to +carry the box to the window. She glanced downward--and dropped the box. + +Something white and wet and naked was climbing out of the fountain. Had +some horrid street-boy dared to profane the Huntington fountain? + +The "boy," poised on the curb, shook his dark head. A bunch of dark, +almost-curly hair fell about his wet shoulders. + +"Jeanne!" gasped Mrs. Huntington. "What _will_ that wretched child do +next!" + +Jeanne was late to breakfast that morning. She had fallen asleep after +her bath. When she slipped, rather guiltily, into her place at the +table, her Uncle Charles, who ordinarily paid no attention to her, +raised his eyebrows, superciliously, and fixed his gaze upon her--as if +she were an interesting stranger. Her grandfather, too, regarded her +oddly. So did her Aunt Agatha. + +"I'm sorry I'm so late," apologized Jeanne. "I slept too long." + +"You are a deceitful child," accused Mrs. Huntington, frigidly. "You +were _not_ asleep. For how long, may I ask, have you been bathing in the +fountain?" + +"About two weeks," said Jeanne, calmly. "It's _lovely_." + +"Lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Huntington. "It's _disgraceful_! And for two +weeks! Are you sure that no one has seen you?" + +"Only a policeman. He was on horseback. You see, I frightened a blue-jay +and he squawked. The policeman stopped to see what had frightened him, +but I pretended I was part of the statue in the middle of the fountain." + +Uncle Charles suddenly choked over his coffee. Her grandfather, too, +began suddenly to cough. Dignified James, standing unobserved near the +wall, actually _bolted_ from the room. + +Mrs. Huntington continued to frown at the small culprit. + +"You may eat your breakfast," said she, sternly. "Come to me afterwards +in my room." + +There was to be no more bathing in the fountain--even in a bathing suit. +Jeanne learned that she had been a _very_ wicked child and that it +wouldn't have happened if her father hadn't been "a common fishman." + +"I am thankful," concluded Aunt Agatha, "that your cousins are out of +town. _They_ wouldn't _think_ of doing anything so unladylike." + +After that, Jeanne's liveliest adventures were those that she found in +books. Fortunately, she loved to read. That helped a great deal. + +She was really rather glad when the dull vacation was over and, oh, so +delighted to see Lizzie and Susie! All that first week she couldn't +_help_ whispering to them in school, even if the new teacher did give +her bad marks and move her to the very front seat. + +"I'd go home with you if I _could_," said Jeanne, declining one of +Susie's numerous invitations, "but I have to go straight home from +school, always." + +"You went into Lydia Coleman's house, yesterday," objected jealous +Susie. + +"Only to get a book for my cousin. Besides, that's right on my way +home." + +"Maybe if _you_ lived on the Avenue, Susie," sneered Lizzie, who +understood Mrs. Huntington's snobbishness only too well, "she'd be +allowed to go with you." + +"Hurry up and move," said Jeanne. "I'd _love_ your house, Susie. I know +it's a home-y house. I liked your mother when she came to the school +exercises and I'm sure I'd like any house she lived in. But you see, I +do so many bad things without knowing that I'm being bad, that it never +would do for me to be _really_ bad. Besides I promised my father I'd +mind Aunt Agatha, so of course I have to. I'd love to go home with +_both_ of you." + +Next to her grandfather, Jeanne's pleasantest companion out of school +was the small brown maid in the big mirror set in her closet door. There +were mirrors like that in all the Huntington bedrooms, so it sometimes +looked as if there were two Claras and two Pearls and two Aunt Agathas, +which made it worse if either of the girls were snippish, or if Aunt +Agatha happened to be thinking of the fountain. Apparently, Mrs. +Huntington would _never_ forget that, Jeanne thought. + +But to Jeanne's mind, the girl she saw in her own mirror had a _nice_ +face, even if it was rather brown. She liked the other child's big, dark +eyes; now serious, now sparkling under very neat, slender eyebrows, with +some new, entertaining thought. The mirror-girl's mouth was just a bit +large, perhaps, with red lips, full of queer little wiggly curves that +came and went, according to her mood. Her nose, rather a small affair, +at best, did it turn up or didn't it? One couldn't be quite sure. +Lizzie's turned up, Ikey Goldberg's turned down; but this nose seemed to +do both. For that reason, it seemed a most interesting nose, even if +there were no freckles on it. + +When lips are narrow and straight, when noses are likewise absolutely +straight, as Pearl's and Clara's were, they may be perfect or even +beautiful, but they are not _interesting_. A wiggly mouth, as Jeanne +said, keeps one guessing. So does an uncertain nose. + +Then there was the mirror-child's chin. Not a _big_ chin like the one in +the picture of Bridget's first husband, the prize-fighter; nor a +chinless chin like Ethel's. + +"Quite a good deal of a chin, I should say," was Jeanne's verdict. + +Then the rest of the mirror-child. A little smaller, perhaps, than many +girls of the same age; but very nicely made. Arms the right size and +length, hands not too big, shoulders straight and not too high like +Bridget's, nor too sloping like Maggie's. A slight waist that didn't +need to be pinched in like Aunt Agatha's. Legs that looked like _girls'_ +legs, not like piano legs--as Hannah Schmidt's did, for instance, when +Hannah wore white stockings. The feet were small. The hair grew prettily +about the bright, sociable face. + +"You're just about the best _young_ friend I have," declared Jeanne, +kissing the mirror-child. "I'm glad you live in my closet--I'd be +awfully lonesome if you didn't." + +Jeanne, however, was not a vain little girl, nor a conceited one. She +simply didn't think of the mirror-child as _herself_. The girl in the +mirror was merely another girl of her own age, and she loved her quite +unselfishly. Perhaps Jeanne's most personal thought came when she washed +her face. + +"I'm so glad I don't have beginning-whiskers like the milkman," said +she, "or a wart on my nose like Bridget's. It's much pleasanter, I'm +sure, to wash a smooth face like this." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ALLEN ROSSITER + + +In November there came a day when nobody in the Huntington house spoke +above a whisper. There was a trained nurse in the house, three very +solemn doctors coming and going, and an air of everybody _waiting_ for +something. + +James told Maggie, and Maggie told Jeanne, that old Mr. Huntington had +had a stroke. + +"Is my grandfather going to die?" asked Jeannette, when Maggie had +patiently explained the serious nature of Mr. Huntington's sudden +illness. + +"I don't know," returned Maggie. "Nobody knows, not even the doctors." + +For a great many dreary days, her grandfather remained "Just the same," +until Jeanne considered those three words the most hateful ones in the +English tongue. Then, one memorable morning--_years_ later, it +seemed--she heard Dr. Duncan say, on his way out: "A decided change for +the better, Mrs. Huntington." + +Jeanne was so glad that she danced a little jig with her friend in the +mirror. Often, after that, she waylaid the pleasant white-capped nurse +to ask about the invalid; but Miss Raymond's one response was "Nicely, +my dear, nicely." For weeks and weeks, Jeanne saw nothing of her +grandfather; consequently, her mathematics became very bad indeed. But +at last, one Sunday morning, the nurse summoned her to her grandfather's +room. + +"Your grandfather wants to see you," said Miss Raymond. "You must be +very quiet and not stay too long--just five minutes." + +Five minutes were enough! There was a strange, wrinkled old man, who +looked small and shriveled in that big white bed. Her grandfather's eyes +had been keen and bright. The eyes of this stranger were dull, sunken, +and oh, so tired. + +"How do you do?" said Jeanne, primly. "I'm--I'm sorry you've been sick." + +"Better now--I'm better now," quavered a strange voice. "How is the +arithmetic?" + +"Very bad," said Jeanne. "Miss Turner says I plastered a room with two +bushels of oats, and measured a barn for an acre of carpet, instead of +getting the right number of apples from an orchard. You have to do so +_many_ kinds of work in examples, that it's hard to remember whether +you're a farmer or a paperhanger. I suppose wet things _would_ run out +of a bushel basket, but wet measure and dry measure get all mixed up--" + +"I think your grandfather is asleep," said the nurse, gently. "You may +come again tomorrow." + +As Mr. Huntington improved, Jeanne's visits grew longer. After a time, +he was able to help her again with her lessons. But all that winter, the +old man sat in his own room. In February the nurse departed and James +took her place. James, who had lived with the family for many years, +was fond of Mr. Huntington and served him devotedly. As before, +Jeannette spent much time with her grandfather. Also, in obedience to +their mother's wishes, the young Huntingtons entered the old man's room, +decorously, once a day to say good morning. Neither the children nor Mr. +Huntington appeared to enjoy these brief, daily visits. Jeanne was +certainly a more considerate visitor. She was ever ready to move his +foot-stool a little closer, to peel an orange for him, to find him a +book, or to sit quietly beside him while he dozed. + +One day, in March, he told her where to find some keys and how to fit +one of them to a small safe in the corner of his room. + +"Bring me all the papers in the first pigeon-hole to the left," said he. +"It's time I was doing some spring housecleaning." + +"I love to help," said Jeanne, swiftly obedient. + +He sorted the papers, dividing them into two piles. "Put these back, and +bring me everything in the next hole." + +Jeanne did that. This operation was repeated until all the papers, many +quite yellow with age, had been sorted. + +"These," said her grandfather, pointing to the documents on the chair +beside him, "are of no use. We'll tear them into small pieces and wrap +them in this newspaper. That's right. Now, do you think you could go to +the furnace and put this bundle right on top of the fire, without +dropping a single scrap? Do you know exactly where the furnace is?" + +"Yes," said Jeanne. "When I first came, I asked Maggie what made the +house warm. She said the furnace did. I wanted to see what a furnace +_was_, so she showed it to me." + +"Where is Mrs. Huntington?" + +"She's out with the girls--at the dressmaker's, I think." + +"And Bridget?" + +"Asleep in her room. This is Maggie's afternoon out: Bridget _always_ +sleeps when Maggie isn't here to tease her." + +"What is James doing?" + +"I guess he's taking a nap on the hat-rack. He does, sometimes." + +"Very well, the coast seems to be clear. Put the bundle in the furnace, +see that it catches on fire. Also, please see that you don't." + +"I've _cooked_," laughed Jeanne, "and I've never yet cooked _myself_." + +In five minutes, Jeanne was back. "James is snoring," said she. "He does +that only when Aunt Agatha is _very_ far away. Listen! He does lovely +snores!" + +"Did the trash burn?" + +"Every scrap," replied Jeanne. "I opened the furnace door, after a +minute or two to see. The fire was pretty hot and they burned right up." + +"It is foolish," said her grandfather, "to keep old letters--and old +vows." + +During the Easter vacation, the Huntingtons entertained a visitor, an +attractive lad of fifteen, whose home was in Chicago. His name was Allen +Rossiter. + +"He's sort of a cousin," explained Harold. "His grandfather and my +grandfather were brothers." + +Jeanne decided that Allen was a pleasant "sort of a cousin." A fair, +clean-looking lad with wide-awake blue eyes, Allen was tall for his age +and very manly. + +"I've heard a lot about you," said Jeanne, the day Allen paid his first +visit to old Mr. Huntington. "You've been here before, haven't you?" + +"Yes. You see, my father's a railroad man, so, naturally, I have to +practice traveling because I'm going to be one, too. I've learned how to +order a meal on the train and have _almost_ enough left to tip the +porter." + +"You've accomplished a great deal," smiled Mr. Huntington. + +"More than that," said Allen. "I know how to read a time-table. How to +tell which trains are A.M.'s and which are P.M.'s. Which ones are fast +and which are slow. Here's a time-card--I have ten lovely folders in my +pocket. Tell me where you want to go, Jeannette, and I'll show you just +how to do it." + +"To Bancroft," said Jeanne. "It's 'way, 'way up on Lake Superior." + +"Here's a map. Now, where is it?" + +"About there," said Jeanne. "Yes, that's it." + +"And here's the right time-card. You go direct to Chicago--" + +"I know that," said Jeanne. + +"But you want a fast train. Here's a dandy. It starts at 9:30 P.M. +That's at night, you know. You are in Chicago at noon. The first train +out of there for Bancroft leaves at eight o'clock at night. Then you +change at Negaunee--" + +"_That's_ easy," said Jeanne. "You just walk across the station and say: +'Is this the train to Bancroft?' Daddy told me always to _ask_. But what +do I do in Chicago? That's the hardest part." + +"You go from this station to _this_ one. Here are the names, do you see? +There, I've marked them. I'll tell you what I'll do. You telegraph and +I'll meet you and put you aboard the right train. When do you start?" + +"Just three years and three months from now, right after school closes." + +"Well," laughed Allen, "you certainly don't intend to miss that train. +But I'll meet you. I'm the family 'meeter.' I meet my grandmother, I +meet my aunts, and all my mother's friends. I'm _always_ meeting +somebody with a suitcase full of _bricks_. Anyway, nobody ever brings a +light one. But your shoes, I'm sure, wouldn't weigh as much as my +grandmother's---she's a _big_ grandmother." + +"May I keep this time-card?" asked Jeanne, earnestly. + +"You may," returned the smiling lad, "but it'll be pretty stale three +years from now." + +"_And_ three months," sighed Jeanne. "But having this to look at will +make Bancroft seem _nearer_." + +"So," said Mr. Huntington, "you're going to be a railroad man?" + +"Yes," replied Allen. "If they have railroad ladies, by that time, +Jeannette, I'll give you a job." + +"I shan't need it," said Jeanne. "I'm going to be married." + +"To whom?" asked Allen. "Got him picked out?" + +"The iceman, I think. Oh, does a railroad man stay away from home a +great deal?" + +"Almost all the time, my mother says." + +"Goody! That's what I'll have--a railroad man." + +"I'll wait for you," laughed Allen. "You're the funniest little kid I've +met in a long time." + +"I don't have to decide until I'm twenty," said Jeanne, cautiously. "I +_might_ find a more stay-away husband than that." + +The next morning the postman brought a letter from Jeanne's father. As +usual, Harold, who had rudely snatched the mail from James, held +Jeanne's letter behind him with one hand and held his nose with the +other. + +"What's the matter?" asked Allen. + +"Fish," returned Harold, pretending to be very ill. "Her father's a +fishman, you know. You can smell his letters coming while they're still +on the train." + +Allen glanced at Jeannette. She was red with embarrassment and very +close to tears. + +"You young cub," said he, "I've heard all about Jeanne's father from my +grandmother. I don't know what he's doing now, but the Duvals were a +splendid old French family even if they _were_ poor. 'Way back, they +were Huguenots--perhaps you've had those in school. Anyway, they were +fine people. And Jeannette's father was well educated and a gentleman. +It isn't a bit worse to sell fish than it is to sit all day in a bank. +I'd _rather_ sell fish, myself.... Particularly, if I could do the +catching." + +"You'd better not let mother hear you," said Clara, primly. "_We_ aren't +allowed to say anything about Jeannette's people." + +"I'm sure we don't _want_ to," said Pearl, virtuously. + +"Well," returned Allen, "my grandmother says that the Duvals began being +an old family long before the Huntingtons did--that's all I know about +it; but my grandmother never tells fibs, and she knew the Duvals. The +rest of us don't. Hurry up and read your letter, Jeannette. We're all +going to the park to feed the animals--which one shall we feed _you_ +to?" + +Jeanne laughed. Allen had hoped that she would. It was a nice laugh, +quite different from Harold's teasing one. + +At the park, Jeanne had another embarrassing moment when Clara +maliciously pointed out the tree that Jeanne had climbed; but Allen had +pretended not to hear. Harold, who had carried an umbrella because Pearl +had insisted, slashed the shrubbery with it and used it to prod the +animals. He annoyed the rabbits, tormented the parrots, the sea lion, +and finally the monkeys. + +"Quit it," said Allen. + +"You're a sissy," retorted Harold, unpleasantly. + +"No, I'm not. _Men_ don't torment animals." + +"Harold _always_ does," said Pearl. + +"It's hard enough to live in a cage," said Jeanne, "without being poked. +There! Mr. Monkey has torn your umbrella." + +"Little brute!" snarled Harold, aiming a deadly thrust at the small +offender. "I'll teach you--" + +Allen wrenched the umbrella from his angry cousin. "Let _me_ carry it," +said he. "There's a guard coming and you might get into trouble." + +Allen's visit lasted for only five days. Jeanne was sorry that he +couldn't stay for five years. _He_ respected her father. If that had +been his _only_ admirable trait, Jeanne would have liked him. + +"Remember," said Allen, at parting, "that I am to act as your guide +three years and three months from now." + +"I won't forget," promised Jeanne, who had gone to the station with her +cousins to see the visitor off. "I have your address and I learned in +school how to write a long, long telegram in _less_ than ten words. +You'll surely get it some nice warm day in June, three and a quarter +years from now." + +How Jeannette kept this promise, you will discover later. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN OLD ALBUM + + +"There's a great big piece of news in my letter from daddy," confided +Jeanne, who had been summoned to sit with her grandfather. He had been +alone for longer than he liked. Since his illness, indeed, he seemed to +like someone with him; and Jeanne was usually the only person available. + +"What kind of news?" he asked. + +"Good news, I guess. My stepgrandmother is gone forever. And I'm sort of +glad." + +"What! Is she dead?" + +"Oh, no! I wouldn't be glad of _that_. You see, she had a bad son named +John, who ran away from home ever so long ago. He was older than Mollie. +His mother and everybody thought he was dead--it was so long since +they'd heard anything from him. But he wasn't. He was _working_. They +never guessed he'd do that. He hadn't any children, but he had a real +good wife--a very _saving_ one. After she died he didn't have anybody, +so he thought of his poor old mother--" + +"About time, I should think." + +"Yes, _wasn't_ it? Well, he went to Bancroft to hunt for his mother, and +he's taken her to St. Louis to live. He gave Mollie some money for +clothes and quilts and things; but it won't do a mite of good." + +"Why not?" + +"Mollie would be too lazy to spend it; or to take care of the things if +she had them. Her mother spent a great deal for medicine for her +rheumatism; but Mollie just bought things to eat--if she bought +_anything_. She loved to sit outside the door, all sort of soft and +lazy, with the wind blowing her pale red hair about her soft, white +face; and a baby in her lap. I can just see her, this very minute." + +"I can't see," said Mr. Huntington, testily, "why your father ever +married that woman." + +"He _didn't_," said Jeanne. "She married _him_--Barney Turcott said so. +Daddy had nursed my mother through a terrible sickness--I _think_ it was +typhoid, he said--and in spite of everything he could do, she died. +Afterwards he was almost crazy about it--about losing her. He couldn't +think of anything else. And while he was like that, _he_ had a fever and +was sick for a long, long time. Before he was really well, he was +married to Mollie. Barney said the Shannons took ad--adventures--no, +that isn't it--" + +"Advantage." + +"Yes, that's it. Advantage of him. They thought, because his clothes +were good, that he had money. But they took very good care of me at +first, Barney said. But Mollie kept getting lazier and lazier, and +father kept getting stronger and healthier. But the better he got, the +more discouraged he was about having Mollie and all those children and +not enough money. You see, he wasn't _really_ well until after they were +living on the dock--Barney said the fresh air was all that saved him, +and that now he's a different man. Mollie's cooking is enough to +discourage anybody; but Barney says: 'By gum! He stuck by her like a +man.'" + +"My child! You mustn't quote Barney quite so literally. Surely, he +didn't say all that to _you_?" + +"No. Barney never talks to anybody but men, he's so bashful. He was +telling another man why he liked my father. They were reeling a net." + +"Where were you?" + +"Behind them, peeling potatoes. I didn't know _then_ that it wasn't +polite to listen." + +"You poor little savage." + +"I don't mind," assured Jeanne, "when _you_ call me a savage; but when +Harold does, I _feel_ like one." + +Jeanne had been warned never to mention her mother in her grandfather's +presence; and she had meant not to. But by this time, you have surely +guessed that Jeanne, with no one else to whom she could talk freely, +was apt to unbottle herself, as it were, whenever she found her +grandfather in a listening mood. She was naturally a good deal of a +chatterbox; but, like many another little chatterbox, preferred a +sympathetic listener. Sometimes, as just now, she spoke of her mother +without remembering that she was a forbidden subject. But now, some of +the questions that she had been longing to ask, thronged to her lips. +Her grandfather was so very gentle with her--Oh, if she only dared! + +"What _are_ you thinking about?" asked Mr. Huntington, after a long +silence. "That is a very valuable picture and you are looking a hole +right through it." + +"I was wondering," said Jeanne, touching her grandfather's hand, +timidly, "if you wouldn't be willing to tell me something about my +mother. Nobody ever has. What she was like when she was little, I mean. +When _she_ was just thirteen and a half. Did she ever look even a tiny +little scrap like _me_?" + +"Yes," replied her grandfather, quite calmly, "you _are_ like her. Not +so much in looks as in other ways. You are darker and your bones are +smaller, I think; but you move and speak like her, sometimes; and you, +too, are bright and quick. And some part of your face _is_ like hers; +but I don't know whether it's your brow or your chin. Now you may clean +my glasses for me and hunt up my book; I think James must have moved it. +It's time you were changing your dress for dinner." + +After that, Jeanne learned a number of things about her mother. That she +had loved flowers when she was just a tiny baby, that pink was her +favorite color. That she had liked cats and peppermint and people. That +she was very impulsive, often doing the deed first, the thinking +afterwards. And yes, her impulses had almost always been kind. Once +(Jeanne's grandfather so far forgot his grievance against his only +daughter as to chuckle softly at the remembrance of the childish prank) +she had felt so sorry for a hungry tramp that the cook had turned away, +that the moment cook's back was turned Bessie had, at the risk of being +severely burned, pulled a huge crock of baked beans from the oven, +wrapped a thick towel about it, slipped outside, and thrust it upon the +tramp. The tramp _had_ been burned; and they had had to send for a +policeman, in order to get his bad language off the premises. + +Jeanne had heard this story the night that she had had her dinner with +her grandfather. She was supposed to be eating in the breakfast-room +with her cousins; but when Maggie had cleared Mr. Huntington's little +table, that evening, preparatory to bringing in his tray, Jeanne had +said: "Bring enough for me, too, Maggie. I'm going to stay right here. +You'll let me, won't you, grand-daddy?" + +"I'll _invite_ you," was the response. "I don't know why I didn't think +of doing it long ago." + +You see, whenever the Huntingtons entertained at dinner, as they +frequently did, the children were banished to the breakfast-room. +Between Pearl's snippishness, Clara's snubbing, and Harold's teasing, +these were usually unhappy occasions for Jeanne. And generally the three +young Huntingtons quarreled with one another. Besides, with no elders to +restrain him, Harold was decidedly rude and "grabby." + +"I think," said Jeanne, after one particularly uproarious meal during +which Harold had plastered Pearl's face with mashed potato and poured +water down Jeanne's back, "that I've learned more good manners from +Harold than from anybody else--his are so very bad that it makes me want +nice ones." + +After the meal with her grandfather was finished, he showed her where to +find an old photograph album, hidden behind the books in his bookcase. + +"There," said he, opening it at a page containing four small pictures. +"This is your mother when she was six months old. She was three or four +years old in this next one, and here is one at the age of twelve. She +was seventeen when this last one was taken." + +"Is this all there are?" asked Jeanne, who had studied the four little +pictures earnestly. "Of her, I mean?" + +"Yes, only those four. Young people didn't have cameras in those days, +you know." + +"Keep the place for me," said Jeanne, returning the book to her +grandfather's knee. "I'll be back in just a second." + +She returned very quickly with the miniature of Elizabeth Huntington +Duval that she had been longing to show to her grandfather. + +"My father had a friend who was an artist," said Jeanne, breathlessly. +"He painted that soon after they were married. For a _present_, father +said. Wasn't it a nice one?" + +"Why, I'm delighted to see this, my dear," said her grandfather, gazing +eagerly at the lovely face. "It's by far the best picture of Bessie I've +ever seen. It is very like her and her face is full of happiness--I'm +very glad of that. I had no idea of its existence. I am very glad +indeed that you thought of showing it to me." + +"So am I," said Jeanne. "You're always so good to me that I'm glad I +could give _you_ a pleasure for once." + +"You must take very good care of this," said Mr. Huntington. "It's a +very fine miniature." + +"I always do," returned Jeanne. "I thought it was ever so good of my +father to give it to me--the only one he had." + +"It was, indeed," said Mr. Huntington, appreciatively. "Now, put it +away, my dear, and keep it safe." + +In the dining-room, to which the guests had just been ushered by James +in his very grandest manner, a lady had leaned forward to say, +gushingly, to her hostess: + +"What a _lovely_ child your youngest daughter is, Mrs. Huntington. I saw +her at dancing school last week and simply fell in love with her. So +graceful and _such_ a charming face. She came in with your son." + +"Clara _is_ a lovely child," returned Mrs. Huntington, complacently. + +"I think," said the guest, "my little son said that her name was +Jeannette." + +"That," said Mrs. Huntington, coldly (people were always singing that +wretched child's praises), "was merely my husband's niece, who has been +placed in our care for a short time. That time, I am happy to say, is +almost half over. She is a great trial. Fortunately, _my_ children have +been too well brought up to be influenced by her incomprehensible +behavior; her hoidenish manners." + +At this moment there came the sound of a sudden crash, followed by +shrieks faintly audible in the dining-room. Although Mrs. Huntington +guessed that Harold had at last succeeded in upsetting the +breakfast-room table; and that either Pearl or Clara had been burned +with the resultant flood of soup, she turned, without blinking an +eyelash, to the guest of honor on her right to speak politely of the +weather. + +It was Jeanne who rushed to the breakfast-room to find the table +overturned and all three of her cousins gazing with consternation at a +wide scalded area on Clara's white wrist. It was Jeanne, too, who +remembered that lard and cornstarch would stop the pain. Also, it was +Jeanne whom Mrs. Huntington afterwards blamed for the accident. Her bad +example, her wicked influence was simply ruining Harold's disposition. + +"Sure," said Maggie, telling Bridget about it later, "that lad was +_born_ with a ruined disposition. As for Miss Jeannette, there's more of +a mother's kindness in one touch of that little tyke's hand than there +is in Mrs. H.'s whole body. And think of her knowing enough to use lard +and cornstarch. The doctor said she did exactly the right thing." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A LONELY SUMMER + + +Jeanne had liked her first teacher, Miss Wardell, very much indeed. And +pretty Miss Wardell had been very fond of Jeannette; she knew that the +child was shy, and the considerate young woman managed frequently to +shield her from embarrassment, and to help her over the rough places. + +Miss Turner was different. She said that Jeannette made her nervous. It +is possible that the other thirty-nine pupils helped; but it was Jeanne +whom she blamed for her shattered nerves. It is certain that Miss Turner +made Jeanne nervous. No matter how well she knew her lesson, she +_couldn't_ recite it to Miss Turner. A chatterbox, with the right sort +of listener, Jeanne was stricken dumb the moment Miss Turner's attention +was focused upon her. + +"What a _very_ bad card!" said Mrs. Huntington, at the end of May. "It +is even worse than it was last month. Pearl and Clara had excellent +cards and Harold had higher marks in two of his studies than you have. +You are a very ungrateful child. You don't appreciate the advantages we +are giving you. When school is out, I shall engage Miss Turner to tutor +you through the summer." + +"Horrors!" thought Jeanne. + +"Miss Turner tutored Ethel Bailey all last summer," continued Mrs. +Huntington. "Mrs. Bailey says that Ethel now receives excellent marks." + +"From Miss _Turner_," said Jeanne, shrewdly. "Ethel doesn't know a thing +about her lessons. She's the stupidest girl in our grade. I _know_ mine, +but it's hard to recite. If I _must_ have a tutor, couldn't I have Miss +Wardell?--I _liked_ her and she'd be glad of the extra money because she +takes care of her mother. Oh, _please_ let me have Miss Wardell." + +"No," returned Mrs. Huntington, firmly, "Miss Turner will know best what +is needed for your grade. You are learning _nothing_. Only forty in +history." + +"Well," sighed Jeanne, "I'm not surprised. I said that Benedict Arnold +wrote 'The Star-Spangled Banner' and that Lafayette painted Gilbert +Stuart's portrait of Washington. I _knew_ better, but oh, dear! When +Miss Turner looks me in the eye and asks a question, my poor frightened +tongue always says the wrong thing." + +"She'd freeze a lamp-post," said Harold, for once agreeing with his +cousin. "I had her last year. Don't look at her eyes--look at her +belt-buckle when you recite." + +"I _have_ to look at her eyes," sighed Jeanne, miserably. "One is +yellow, the other is black. I _hate_ to look at them, but I always have +to." + +"I know," agreed Harold. "I had ten months of those eyes myself. I hope +you'll never meet a snake. You'd be so fascinated that you couldn't +run." + +"Miss Turner's eyes have nothing to do with the question," said Mrs. +Huntington. "Mrs. Bailey said she made an excellent tutor, so I shall +certainly engage her." + +"Perhaps," suggested Harold, consolingly, when his mother had left the +room, "she won't be able to come. She _may_ want a vacation." + +"Oh, I _hope_ so." + +"So do I," said Harold, making a face. "You see, my marks in Latin are +about as bad as they make 'em. It _may_ occur to mother to let Miss +Turner use up her spare time on _me_. Wow!" + +"Anyhow," said Jeanne, "I'm much obliged to you for trying to help." + +All too soon it was June. School was out and Jeanne hadn't passed in a +single study. Even her deportment had received a very low mark. Miss +Turner, contrary to Jeanne's fervent hope, had gladly accepted the +position Mrs. Huntington had offered her. Mrs. Huntington broke the +discouraging news at the breakfast table. + +"Your lessons will begin at nine o'clock next Monday, Jeannette," said +she, firmly believing that she was doing the right thing by a strangely +backward student. "With only one pupil, Miss Turner will be able to give +all her attention to you." + +Again Harold agreed with his cousin. "I'm sorry for you," said he. "All +of Miss Turner's attention is more than any one human pupil could +stand." + +"Mother," suggested Clara, not without malice, "why don't you let Miss +Turner help Harold with _his_ lessons--ouch! you beast! stop pinching +me." + +"Why, that," approved Mrs. Huntington, "is a _very_ good idea. I'm glad +you mentioned it. Still, you are going to your grandmother's so soon--I +fear Harold's Latin will have to be postponed." + +So great was Harold's relief that he collapsed in his chair. + +The summer was to prove a dreary one. Besides a daily dose of Miss +Turner, Jeanne was worried, because, for six weeks, there had been no +letter from her father. Previously, he had written at least twice a +month and, from time to time, had sent her money; that she might have a +little that was all her own. Indeed, Mr. Duval, who had no lack of +pride, had every intention of repaying the Huntingtons as soon as he +could for whatever they had expended for his daughter. But that would +take time, of course. + +At any rate, Jeanne was well provided with pocket money. To be sure, +Pearl, who loved to order expensive concoctions with queer names at +soda-water fountains, usually borrowed the money, sometimes forgetting +to return it. Also, thus adding insult to injury, Pearl always invited +her own friends to partake of these delicacies without inviting Jeanne, +even though that wistful small person were at the very door of the +ice-cream parlor. Pearl, several years older than her cousin and much +taller, didn't want _children_ tagging along. + +But now, for six weeks, there had been no letter from her father and no +money. She didn't care about the money. When you are going _home_ in +three years, eleven months, and fourteen days, you are so afraid that +you won't have enough money for your ticket when the time comes that you +_save_! Jeanne had saved her money whenever she could, and, with the +thrift that she had perhaps inherited from some remote French ancestor, +had hidden it in the fat pincushion of the work-box that Mrs. Huntington +had given her for Christmas. She had hidden it so neatly, too, that no +one would ever suspect that dollar bills had gradually replaced the +sawdust. Only her grandfather knew about the money, and he had promised +not to tell. + +But after Jeanne had intrusted him with the secret, and when James was +shaving the old gentleman, Mr. Huntington had suddenly chuckled. + +"I beg your pardon, sir?" + +"I am thinking about my youngest grand-child," explained his master. +"She is the wisest little monkey I ever knew. She has enough common +sense for a whole family." + +"She has that," agreed James. "Mrs. Huntington, sir, wouldn't dast try +to teach cook how to make a new pie, cook's that set in her own conceit, +much less do any cooking herself; but that there little black-eyed thing +comes in last month with a new dessert that she'd learned in her +Domestic Science, and if cook didn't sit right down like a lamb and let +her make it. What's more, Bridget asked for the rule and has made it +herself every Sunday since. Cook says many a married lady is less handy +than that small girl. She's got brains--" + +"That'll do, James. I like your enthusiasm, but not when you gesticulate +with that razor--I can't spare any of my features. But I agree with you +about the child. She is thoughtful beyond her years." + +The postman came and came and came, and still there was no letter. Old +Captain, to be sure, had written oftener than usual and, when one came +to think about it, had said a great deal less. She knew from him that +spring had come to the Cinder Pond, that the going-to-bed swallows had +returned, that the pink-tipped clover had blossomed, that the +mountain-ash tree that had somehow planted itself on the dock promised +an unusual crop of berries, that the herring were unusually large and +abundant but whitefish rather scarce. Also the lake was as blue as +ever--she had asked about that--and Barney had a boil on his neck. But +not a word about her father or Mollie or the children. Usually there had +been some new piece of inquisitiveness on Sammy's part for the Captain +to write about; for Sammy was certainly an inquisitive youngster if +there ever was one; but even news of Sammy seemed strangely lacking. And +he had forgotten twice to answer Jeanne's question about Annie's +clothes; if the little ready-made dress that Jeanne had sent for +Christmas was still wearable or had she outgrown it. + +Then came very warm weather, and still no real news of her relatives +and no letter from her father. Once, he and Barney had taken rather a +long cruise to the north shore. Perhaps he had gone again; with Dan +McGraw, for instance, who was always cruising about for fish, for +berries, or for wreckage. Dan had often invited her father to go. Still, +it did seem as if he would have mentioned that he was going; unless, +indeed, he had gone on very short notice. Or perhaps--and that proved a +most distressing thought--perhaps she had been gone so long that he was +beginning to forget her. Perhaps Michael, to whom he had been giving +nightly lessons, had taken her place in her father's affections. Indeed, +Harold had once assured her that fathers _always_ liked their sons +better than their daughters. Perhaps it was so, for Uncle Charles, who +paid no attention whatever to Pearl and Clara, sometimes talked to +Harold. + +As before, the young Huntingtons had gone to their seashore grandmother. +Jeannette, of course, had to remain within reach of Miss Turner, who +now gave her better marks, in spite of the fact that her recitations +were no more brilliant and even less comfortable than they had been in +school. + +Her grandfather, who seldom interfered in any way with Mrs. Huntington's +plans, had objected to Miss Turner. + +"She may be an excellent teacher for ordinary children," said he, "but +she isn't Jeannette's kind, and she isn't pleasant." + +"She is not unpleasant to _me_," returned unmoved Aunt Agatha, whose +opinions were exceedingly difficult to change. "At any rate, it is too +late to discuss the matter. I have engaged her for the summer, at a +definite salary. Next summer, if it seems best, we can make some +different arrangement." + +"Then I suppose we'll have to stand it," sighed Mr. Huntington, "but it +seems decidedly unfortunate that when ninety-nine school-ma'ams out of a +hundred have _some_ measure of attractiveness, you should have chosen +the hundredth." + +Perhaps Mr. Huntington might have made some further effort toward +dislodging Miss Turner; but shortly after the foregoing conversation, he +was again taken ill. For more than a week he had been kept in bed and +James had said something to the cook about "a slight stroke." + +But to Jeanne's great relief this illness was of shorter duration than +the preceding one. He was up again; and spending his waking hours in a +wheeled chair under the big elm in the garden. Jeanne, however, could +see that he was not so well. His eyes had lost some of their keenness, +and often the word that he wanted would not come. He seemed quite a good +many years older; and not nearly so vigorous as he had been before this +new illness. Jeanne hovered over him anxiously. + +Sometimes Mrs. Huntington told visitors that she feared that her +father-in-law's faculties were becoming sadly impaired. + +"He seems to dislike me," she added, plaintively, when she mentioned +"impaired faculties" to her husband. James overheard this. Indeed, +James was _always_ overhearing things not meant for his too-receptive +ears, because he was so much a part of the furniture that no one ever +remembered that he was in the room or gave him credit for being human. +James told Bridget about it. + +"The old gentleman," said he, "nor anybody else doesn't need impaired +faculties to dislike _that_ lady. If she's got any real feelings inside +her they're cased up in asbestos, like the pipes to the furnace. They +never comes out. She's a human icicle, she is. I declare, if she'd get +real mad just once and sling the soup tureen at me, I'd take the +scalding gladly and say, 'Thank you kindly, ma'am; 'tis a pleasure to +see you thawing, just for once.'" + +James, you have noticed, was much more human in the kitchen than he was +in the dining-room. Mrs. Huntington, who had lived under the same roof +with him for many years, would certainly have been surprised if she had +heard him, for in her presence James was like a talking doll, in that +he had just two set speeches. They were, "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am." + +"She's padded with her own conceit," said Bridget, "and there's a +cast-iron crust outside that. She shows no affection for her own +children, let alone that motherless lamb." + +"If she ever swallowed her pride," said Maggie, "'twould choke her." + +"Then I hope she does it," said James, going meekly to the front of the +house to say "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am" to his frigid mistress. For if +James were more talkative in the kitchen than he was in the dining-room +he was also much braver. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A THUNDERBOLT + + +Then, out of what was seemingly a clear sky, came a thunderbolt. +Jeanne's self-satisfied Aunt Agatha, at least, had noticed no gathering +clouds; and for that reason, perhaps, was the harder hit. Something +happened. Something that no one had ever dreamed _could_ happen in so +well-ordered a house as Mrs. Huntington's. + +There is no doubt that the impaired faculties of old Mr. Huntington had +a great deal to do with it. Possibly the "impaired faculties" combined +with his ever-increasing dislike for his daughter-in-law had even more +to do with it. Anyway, the astounding thing, for which Mrs. Huntington +was never afterwards able to forgive "that wretched child from +Bancroft," happened; but, as you shall see, it wasn't exactly Jeanne's +fault. She merely obeyed her grandfather. It was not until the deed was +done that she began to realize its unfairness to Mrs. Huntington, to +whom Jeanne was not ungrateful. + +This is how it happened. Jeanne, who had never really _complained_ in +her letters to her father, in her conversations with her grandfather, or +in fact to anybody; Jeanne, who had borne every trial bravely and even +cheerfully, had, for three days, burst into tears every afternoon at +precisely four o'clock. You see, this was the time when the postman made +his final visit for the day. As the lonely little girl usually spent her +afternoons in the dismal garden with her grandfather, he had witnessed +all three of these surprising outbursts. She hadn't said a word. She had +merely turned from the letters that James had laid on the table, and +sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. For two days her grandfather had not +seemed to notice. Nowadays, he _didn't_ notice a great deal. On the +first occasion of her weeping, he had even fallen into a doze, while +Jeanne, her head on the littered table, had cried all the tears that had +_almost_ come during the preceding weeks. + +The third afternoon, her grandfather appeared brighter than he had for +days. He noticed, while she watched for the postman, that the child's +face seemed white and strained, that there were dark rings about her +eyes. Again there was no letter from her father. Again she broke down +and sobbed. + +"Tell me about it," said he, with a trembling hand on Jeanne's heaving +shoulder. + +As soon as Jeanne was able to speak at all, she poured it all out, in +breathless sentences mixed with sobs. She was lonely, she wanted a +letter from her father, she wanted her father himself, she wanted the +children, she wanted the lake, she wanted to go home--she had wanted to +go home every minute since--well, _almost_ every minute since the moment +of her arrival. She hated Miss Turner, she hated to practice scales, she +hated the hot weather, she was homesick, she wanted Mollie to _smile_ +at her--Mollie was always good to her. And oh, she wanted to cuddle +Patsy. + +"He--he'll _grow up_," wailed Jeanne. "He won't be a baby if I wait +three--three years, or wu--one muh--month less than three years. I--I +wu--wu--want to go home." + +"Why, bless my soul!" said her surprised grandfather; with a sudden +brightening of his faded eyes. "There's no good reason, my dear, why you +shouldn't go home for a visit. I didn't realize, I didn't guess--" + +"Aunt Agatha never would let me," said Jeanne, hopelessly. "I've asked +her twice since school was out. It's so hot and I'm so worried about +daddy. I thought if I could go for just a little while--but she says it +costs too much money--that I mustn't even _think_ of such a thing." + +"Oh, she did, did she?" + +Jeanne was startled then by the look that came into her grandfather's +sunken eyes. It was a strange look; a malevolent look; a look full of +malice. Except for the first few weeks of her residence with her +grandfather his eyes had always seemed _kind_. Now they glittered and +his entire face settled into strange, new lines. It had become cruel. + +"Call James!" he said. + +Jeanne jumped with surprise at the sharpness of his voice. Faithful +James, who was snoring on the hat-rack--Mrs. Huntington being out for +the afternoon and the hat-rack seat being wide and comfortable--hurried +to his master. + +"James," said Mr. Huntington, leaning forward in his chair, "not a word +of this to anybody--do you promise!" + +"Yes, sir," agreed James, accustomed to blind obedience. + +"You are to find out what time the through train leaves for Chicago. +Tonight's train, I mean. Be ready to go to the station at that time. You +are to buy a ticket from here to Bancroft, Michigan--_Upper_ +Michigan--for my granddaughter. Reserve the necessary berths--she will +have two nights on the sleeper. You will find money in the left-hand +drawer of my dresser. If it isn't enough, you will lend me some--she +will need something extra for meals and so forth. And remember, not a +word to anybody. If necessary, go outside to telephone about the train." + +"Very well, sir," said James. "I understand, sir--and by Jinks! I'm +_with_ you!" + +"Good. Now, Jeannette, as soon as we know what time that train goes--" + +"I _do_ know," said Jeanne. "Nine-thirty, P.M. I have that +time-card--the one that Allen Rossiter gave me--with the trains marked +right through to Bancroft. But James had better make sure that the time +hasn't been changed. And please, couldn't he send a telegram to Allen, +in Chicago, to meet me! I have his address." + +"Of course," returned Mr. Huntington. "I had forgotten that. Allen will +be of great assistance. Now, go very quietly to your room. You are not +to say good-by to anybody. No one but James is to know that you are +going. Put on something fit to travel in and pack as many useful +clothes as your suitcase will hold--things that you can wear in +Bancroft. Have your hat and gloves where you can find them quickly and +take your money with you. James will take care of everything else. Now +_go_." + +When Mr. Huntington said "Now _go_," people usually went. Jeanne +_wanted_ to throw her arms about her grandfather's neck, and say a +thousand thank-yous, but plainly this was not the time. + +She flew to her room. Fortunately the house was practically deserted, +for Jeanne was too excited to remember to be quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Charles +Huntington, however, had left at two o'clock for a long motoring trip to +the country, and would not be home until midnight. It was Bridget's +afternoon out and Maggie was busy in the kitchen. + +"All the things I _don't_ want," said she, opening her closet door, +"I'll hang on _this_ side. I shan't need any party clothes for the +Cinder Pond. Nor any white shoes." + +Of course the suitcase wouldn't hold everything; no suitcase ever does. +Jeanne's selection was really quite wonderful. She would have liked to +buy presents for all the children, but there was no time for that. +Besides, to the Cinder Pond child, the city streets had always been +terrifying. She had never visited the shopping district alone. But there +was a cake of "smelly" white soap to take to Sammy and an outgrown linen +dress to cut down for Annie, and perhaps Allen would find her something +in Chicago for the others. She hoped Sammy wouldn't eat the soap. + +The suitcase packed, Jeanne, who was naturally orderly, folded her +discarded garments neatly away in the dresser drawers. No one would have +guessed that an excited traveler had just packed a good portion of her +wardrobe in that perfectly neat room. Certainly not Maggie, who looked +in to tell her that her dinner was ready in the breakfast-room. + +"And not a soul here to eat it but you," added Maggie. + +"Couldn't I have it with my grandfather?" + +"He said not," returned Maggie. "I was setting it in there, but he said +he wanted to eat by himself tonight. He seems different--better, maybe. +Sick folks, they say, _do_ get a bit short like when they're on the +mend." + +At eight o 'clock, Jeanne tapped at her grandfather's door. There was no +response. She opened the door very quietly and went inside. Although he +usually sat up until nine, Mr. Huntington was in bed and apparently +asleep. + +When you don't wish to say good-by to a person that you love very much +and possibly never expect to see again, perhaps it is wiser to pretend +that you are asleep. Jeanne left the softest and lightest of kisses on +the wrinkled hand outside the cover, and then tiptoed to the hall to +find James. Her only other farewell had been given to the mirror-child +in her closet door. + +"Ready, Miss Jeanne? Very well, Miss. I'll get your suitcase. We'd +better be starting. It's a good way to the station and there's quite a +bit to be done there. You can sit in a snug corner behind a newspaper, +while I buy your tickets and all." + +"I'll carry this," said Jeanne, who had a large square package under her +arm. "It's my work-box. I shall need that. I expect to sew a lot in +Bancroft, but it wouldn't go into my suitcase. And, James. I left two of +my newest handkerchiefs on my dresser. Tomorrow, will you please give +one of them to Maggie, the other to Bridget? I tried to find something +for you; but there wasn't a thing that would do." + +"Well," returned James, "it isn't likely I'll forget you, and the madam +will be giving me cause to remember you by tomorrow." + +When Jeanne was aboard the train and James, with a great big lump in his +throat, had gulped out: "Good-by, Miss, and a pleasant journey to you," +she yielded to the conductor as much as he wanted of her long yellow +ticket. + +Unconsciously she imitated what she called "Aunt Agatha's carriage +manner." When Mrs. Huntington rode in any sort of a vehicle, she always +sat stiffly upright, presenting a most imposing exterior. Jeanne was a +good many sizes smaller than Aunt Agatha, but she, too, sat so very +primly that no stranger would have _thought_ of chucking her under the +chin and saying: "Hello, little girl, where are _you_ going all by +yourself?" Certainly no one had ever ventured to "chuck" Aunt Agatha. + +And then, remembering her other experience in a sleeper, Jeannette set +about her preparations for bed, as sedately as any seasoned traveler. + +She did one unusual thing, however. Something that Aunt Agatha had +_never_ done. As soon as the curtains had fallen about her, she drew +from the top of her stocking a very small pasteboard box. The cover was +dotted with small pin pricks. + +"I'm afraid," said Jeanne, eying this object, doubtfully, "this car is +pretty warm. Maybe I'd better raise the cover just a little." + +She slept from eleven to four. Having no watch, she felt obliged, after +that, to keep one drowsy eye on the scenery. She hoped she should be +able to recognize Chicago when she saw it. Anyway, there was plenty of +time, since she was to have breakfast on the train. Nobody seemed to be +stirring. But _something_ had stirred. When Jeanne looked into the +little box on the window sill it was empty. + +Making as little noise as possible, Jeanne searched every inch of her +bed, her curtains, her clothes. She even looked inside her shoes. + +"Oh, Bayard Taylor!" she breathed, "I _trusted_ you." + +And then, Jeanne was seized by a horrible thought. "Goodness!" she +gasped. "Suppose he's in somebody else's bed--they'd die of fright!" + +As soon as the other passengers began to stir, Jeanne hurriedly dressed +herself. Then she pressed the bell-button in her berth. + +"Mr. Porter," said she, "I wish you would please be _very_ careful when +you make this bed. I have lost something--you _mustn't_ step on it." + +"Yore watch, Miss? Yore pocketbook?" asked the solicitous porter. + +"No," returned Jeanne, a bit sheepishly, "just my pet snail." + +Happily, not very much later, the wandering snail was safely rescued +from under the opposite berth. + +"Is this yere _bug_ what you-all done lost?" asked the porter, grinning +from ear to ear as he restored Jeanne's property. "Well, I declare to +goodness, I nevah did see no such pet as that befoh, in all mah born +days." + +"I hope," said Jeanne, anxiously, "that I can buy a tiny scrap of +lettuce leaf for his breakfast. I didn't have a chance to bring +anything." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WITH THE ROSSITERS + + +Not only Allen, but Allen's mother met the young traveler when she +stepped from the train in Chicago. Such a bright, attractive mother, +with such a nice, mother-y smile. No wonder Allen was a pleasant boy +with gentle manners. It must be pretty nice, thought Jeanne, to live +with a mother like that. + +"We're going to take you home with us," said Mrs. Rossiter. "We brought +the car so we can take your suitcase right along with us. We'll have +lunch at home, with Allen's grandmother. She is very anxious to see you; +she used to know your father's people, you know. They were neighbors +once, in Philadelphia." + +"I'll like that," said Jeanne. + +"After lunch, we'll show you a little bit of Chicago--Lincoln Park, I +think--and then we'll give you some dinner and put you on your train. +You needn't worry about anything. Our young railroad man, here, has it +all fixed up for you." + +"That's lovely," said Jeanne, gratefully. + +"Any adventures along the way?" asked Allen, who had carried the +suitcase and the work-box, too, all the way to the automobile. + +"Only one," said Jeanne. "I lost Bayard Taylor. He was a great American +traveler, you know. We had him in school--" + +"Was it a book?" asked Mrs. Rossiter. "Perhaps we can inquire--" + +"I found him again," laughed Jeanne. "He was my pet snail." + +"Where is he now?" asked Allen. + +"In my stocking," confessed Jeanne. "Aunt Agatha had my jacket pockets +sewed up so they wouldn't get bulgy. You see, I _wanted_ a kitten or a +baby or a puppy or _any_ kind of a pet; but Aunt Agatha doesn't like +pets--her own children never had any. But I just _had_ to have +something. And Bayard Taylor is it. A snail is a lovely pet. He is so +small that nobody notices him. He doesn't need much to eat and he's so +easy to carry around." + +"I hope he doesn't do any traveling while he's _in_ your stocking," +laughed Mrs. Rossiter. + +"He's in his little box," said Jeanne. "At my grandfather's I made a +small yard for him under one of the evergreens with toothpicks stuck all +around in the clay. He liked that and the little clay house I built." + +"How do you know he did?" asked Allen. "He couldn't purr or wag his +tail." + +"He stuck up his horns and kept his appetite." + +The Rossiters' house was homelike. Even the furniture wore a friendly +look. An affectionate cat rubbed against Jeanne's stockings and an old +brown spaniel trustfully rested his nose upon her knee. Jeanne liked +them both, but she _loved_ the big old grandmother, because she had so +many pleasant memories of Jeanne's own grandmother. + +"The finest little lady I ever knew," said she. "An aristocrat to the +very tip of her fingers. And your grandfather Duval was another. Ever +so far back, their people were Huguenots. Although they lost their +estates, and their descendants were never particularly prosperous in +business, they were always refined, educated people. Your father met +your mother when she was visiting in Philadelphia. It was a case of love +at first sight and your mother's hostess, a very sentimental woman she +was, my dear, rather helped the matter along. They were married inside +of three weeks; and you were born a year later in your grandmother's +house in Philadelphia. She died very shortly after that and some +business opening took your father to Jackson, Michigan. I believe he and +your mother settled there. Her own people had not forgiven her hasty +marriage; but I assure you, my dear, your young cousins have no reason +to be ashamed of you. Your blood is _quite_ as good as theirs." + +Her tone implied that it was _better_. + +"That's enough past history, granny," said Allen. "I want to show her my +stamp collection, my coins, my printing press, and my wireless station +on the roof." + +Jeanne thoroughly enjoyed the noon meal--she hadn't supposed that nice +persons _could_ be so jolly and informal at the table. The ride through +the park, too, was delightful. + +"It's lovely," she said, "to have this nice ride. The wind is blowing +all the whirligigs out of my head." + +"I suppose you had lots of rides in the Huntingtons' new car--Allen says +they have one." + +"Not so very many. It was always closed to keep the dust out and Aunt +Agatha liked to sit alone on the back seat. Sometimes she took Pearl or +Clara. Never more than one at a time. She said it looked common to fill +the car up with children. But once in a while, when I had to go to the +dentist or have something tried on, I had a chance to ride." + +"Is there anything you'd especially like to see?" asked Allen. + +"Yes," said Jeanne, promptly. "I'd like a good look at Lake Michigan." + +"That's easy," said Allen. "You shall have _two_ looks." + +But when they reached a point from which Lake Michigan was plainly +visible, Jeanne was disappointed. "Are you sure," she asked, "that +that's it?" + +"Why, yes," smiled Mrs. Rossiter. "What's wrong with it?" + +"I thought," said Jeanne, "that all lakes were blue. This one is brown." + +"It _is_ brown, today," said Mrs. Rossiter. "Sometimes it has more +color; but never that intense blue that you have up north. We once took +a lake trip on one of the big steamers and I saw your blue lake then." + +"Oh, this is a _nice_ lake," said Jeanne, anxious to be polite, "but, of +course, I'm more used to my own." + +The Rossiters liked their visitor and urged her to remain longer; but +Jeanne very firmly declined. + +"I'd love to," she said. "And I would, if I were going _away_ from home. +But I'm just counting the minutes. It would be just like Patsy to grow +another _inch_ while I'm on the train tonight." + +"I know just how you feel," assured Mrs. Rossiter. "But perhaps, when +you are on your way back, you'll be able to stay longer." + +"If she doesn't get back by the time she's twenty," laughed Allen, "I'm +going after her. Just remember, Jeanne, I want to be on hand when you're +ready to decide about that husband. I should hate to have that iceman +get ahead of me." + +"All right," agreed Jeanne, cheerfully. "Just hunt me up about six years +from now. If I have time to bother with any husbands at all, I think, +maybe, I'd rather have you around than the iceman." + +"Be sure," said Mrs. Rossiter, at parting, "to let us know when you're +starting back this way." + +"I will," promised Jeanne. "I've had a lovely time. Good-by, everybody, +and thank you _so_ much." + +Jeanne slept soundly that night and Bayard Taylor did no extra +traveling, because Allen had made a tiny cage for him from a small +wooden box, with bars of very fine wire. + +At Negaunee, Jeanne succeeded in lugging all her belongings safely, if +not comfortably, across the platform, from one train to the other. + +"Is this the train to Bancroft?" she asked. + +"It is," said the brakeman, helping her aboard. + +The last half-hour of the journey seemed a year long. She had had no +breakfast and she was sure that Patsy had gotten up earlier than usual +that morning just on purpose to _grow_. Never was train so slow, never +had fourteen miles seemed so many. The other passengers looked as if +they had settled down and meant to stay where they were for _weeks_; but +Jeanne was much too excited to do any settling. She wanted to get off +and push. But at last a beautiful voice (that is, it sounded like a +beautiful voice to the impatient little traveler) shouted: "All off for +Bancroft." + +In spite of her weighty belongings, the first passenger off that train +was Jeannette Huntington Duval. There was a parcel-room in the station +at Bancroft. Jeanne checked her suitcase--Allen had told her how to do +that--put her check in her other stocking for safe keeping, and then, +burdened only with her work-box, set out to surprise the Duvals. Her +father, she was sure, would be willing to go for the suitcase that +evening. He'd surely be home by now, even if Dan McGraw had taken him +for a _long_ trip. No doubt she had passed his letter on the way. And +how those children would come whooping down the dock at sight of her! +The sky was blue and all Jeanne's thoughts were happy ones. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A MISSING FAMILY + + +The walk was long, but at last Jeanne reached the blossoming bank, +against which Old Captain's freight car rested. Nobody home at Old +Captain's; but it was much too pleasant a day for a fisherman to stay +ashore. One of his nets, however, hung over his queer house and his old +shoes were beside his bed--the biggest, broadest shoes in all Bancroft; +there was no mistaking _those_. + +Half a dozen steps down the grassy dock and Jeanne stood stock-still. +The lake! _There_, all big and clear and blue. And just the same--_her_ +lake! + +A great big lump in her throat and suddenly the lake became so misty +that she couldn't see it. + +"What a goose-y thing to do," said surprised Jeanne, wiping away the +fog; "when I'm _glad_ all the way to my heels. I didn't believe folks +really cried for joy; but I guess they do. I wonder where those children +are. They ought to be catching pollywogs, but they aren't. And here are +flowers just asking to be picked--Annie must be getting lazy. Why +doesn't somebody see me and come _running_? And why isn't Mollie sitting +outside the door in the sun? Why! How queer the house looks--sort of +shut up." + +By this time, Jeanne was almost at the end of the dock and her heart was +beating fast. The house _was_ shut up; not only that but _boarded_ up, +from the outside. It was certainly very strange and disconcerting. + +Puzzled Jeanne seated herself on an old keg and reflectively eyed her +deserted home. + +"They've _moved_," she decided. "They've rented a house somewhere in +town so Michael and Sammy can go to school. It's probably more +comfortable, but I know the yard isn't half so beautiful. By and by, +when I can stop looking at the lake, I'll find something to eat in Old +Captain's house. I'm just about starved. I'll have to wait until he +comes home to find out about everybody? I _wonder_ why nobody told me." + +It was five o'clock when Barney's boat touched at the dock. Old Captain +climbed out. Barney followed. Together they picked their way along the +crumbling wharf. Something brown--a _warm_ brown that caught the glow +from the afternoon sun--was curled on Captain Blossom's doorstep. When +you've traveled for two nights and spent a long day outdoors on a breezy +wharf, exploring all the haunts of your childhood, sleep comes easily. +There was Jeanne, her head on her elbow, sound asleep. + +Barney took one good look at the small, brunette face; and then, as if +all the bad dreams he had _ever_ had, had gotten after him at once, fled +up the steep bank behind Old Captain's car and was gone. The Captain, +when he had recognized his sleeping visitor, looked as if he, too, would +have been glad to flee. + +"So, so," he muttered, helplessly wringing his big hands. "Darned if +I--hum, ladies present--dinged if I know what to do." + +Suddenly Jeanne sat up and looked at him. Next she had flown at him and +had kissed both of his broad red cheeks. + +"Well!" she exclaimed. "It's _time_ you were coming home. Where is my +father? Where's _everybody_?" + +"Well, you see," said Old Captain, patting her gently, "they +ain't--well, they ain't exactly _here_." + +"I can _see_ that," returned Jeanne, exasperated by the Captain's +remarkable slowness, "but where _are_ they?" + +"Well, now, Jeannie girl, maybe your father wrote you about Mis' +Shannon's son John takin' her away to St. Louis last spring? Well, he +done it." + +"Yes?" + +"After--well, after a while--Mollie was took sick. You see there was +some sort o' reason for that there laziness of hern. There was something +wrong with her inside. Her brother John come--I telegraphed him--and +had her took to a hospital. Up at St. Mary's--t'other side of town. +She's there yet. She ain't a-goin' to come out, they say." + +"Oh!" breathed Jeanne, her eyes very big. "Oh, _poor_ Mollie!" + +"She's just as contented as ever," assured the Captain, whose consoling +pats had grown stronger and stronger until now they were so nearly +_blows_, that Jeanne winced under them. "I'll take you to see her first +chance I git; she'll be thar for some time yet!" + +"But the children," pleaded Jeanne. "Where are they?" + +"Well, they're in St. Louis." + +"Oh, _no_." + +"I'm afeared they _be_. You see, Mis' Shannon was no good at +housekeepin' with that there rheumatism of hern; so, John up and married +a real strong young woman to do the work. When he come here to look +after Mollie, he took Sammy and Annie and the little 'un back to St. +Louis with him." + +"And Michael?" + +"I'll tell you the rest tomorry," promised the Captain, who had stopped +patting Jeanne, to wipe large beads of perspiration from his brow. "I'm +a hungry man and I got a heap o' work to do after supper. You got to +sleep some'eres, you know. My idee is to knock open the doors and windys +of the two best rooms in your old shack out there. This here fish car +ain't no real proper place for a lady. It was me nailed them doors up +after--hum--me nailed 'em _up_." + +"After _what_?" demanded Jeanne. + +"After--after breakfast, I think it was," dissembled Old Captain, +lamely. "I wisht that mean skunk of a Barney--hum, ladies present--that +there _Barney_, I mean, was here to help. Now, girl, I'm goin' up town +to get somethin' fitten for a lady's supper--" + +"I ate all your crackers and all your cheese," confessed Jeanne. + +"Glad you did. You can put a chip in the fire now and again to keep her +going. I'll start it for you and put the kettle on. Anythin' I can do +for you up town?" + +"Yes," said Jeanne, "I checked my suitcase at the station. Don't _you_ +carry it. Here's a quarter--get some boy to do it." + +"Huh!" grunted Old Captain, "thar ain't no boy goin' to carry _your_ +suitcase. No, siree, not while I'm here to do it. Just let these here +potatoes bile while I'm gone." + +Jeanne, finding no cloth, spread clean newspapers over the greasy table, +scoured two knives and a pair of three-tined forks with clean white sand +from the beach, and set out two very thick plates, one cup and a saucer. +After that, she washed the teapot and found Old Captain's caddy of +strong green tea. Then she picked up a basket of bits of snowy driftwood +from the beach--such clean, smooth pieces that it seemed a pity to burn +them, yet nothing made a more pleasing fire. + +Presently Old Captain returned with Jeanne's suitcase. With him was a +breathless boy who had found it difficult to keep up with the Captain's +long stride. The boy's basket contained bread, butter, eggs, and a piece +of round steak. Also there was a bundle containing a brand-new sheet and +pillow-case. + +"Them thar's a present for _you_," explained Old Captain. "They was +somethin' the matter with the towels--had _glue_ in 'em, I guess. Stiff +as a board, anyhow. But your paw left some in his room--" + +"Where _is_ my--" + +"Now, I'm _cookin'_," returned Old Captain, hastily. "_When_ I'm +cookin', I ain't answerin' no questions. I'm _askin'_ 'em. You can tell +me how you got here and what started ye--I'm dyin' to hear all about it. +But you can't ask no questions. And just remember this. I'm darn +glad--hum--_real_ glad you come. This here's a lonesome place with no +children runnin' 'round; and I'm mighty glad to hear somethin' +twitterin' besides them swallows, so just twitter away. First of all, +who brung you?" + +In spite of her dismay at Mollie's illness, in spite of her keen +disappointment regarding the missing children, in spite of her +bewilderment and her growing fear concerning her strangely absent +father, Jeanne was conscious of a warm glow of happiness. Even if +_everybody_ had been gone, the Cinder Pond, more beautiful than ever, +would still have been _home_. + +But Old Captain's hearty welcome, and, more than all, the kindliness +that seemed to radiate from his broad, ruddy face, seemed to enfold her +like a warm, woolly bathrobe. The Captain was rough and uncultured; but +you couldn't look at him without knowing that he was _good_. + +Supper was a bit late that night. Jeanne, very neat in her brown poplin +dress, Old Captain, very comfortable in his faded shirt-sleeves, ate it +by lamplight at the Captain's small, square table. Truly an oddly +contrasted pair. But in spite of the fact that the Captain's heart was +much better than his table manners, Jeanne was able to eat enough for +_two_ small girls. + +After supper, the Captain lighted a big lantern, collected his tools, +and trudged down the cindery road to the Duval corner of the old wharf. +Presently Jeanne, who was clearing away after the meal, heard the sound +of hammering and the "squawk" of nails being pulled from wood--noises +travel far, over water that is quiet. When she had washed and dried the +dishes, she followed Old Captain. + +"Thought ye'd come, too, did ye! Well, she's all opened up. You'd best +take your father's room--for tonight, anyway. It ain't been disturbed +since--hum! The blankets is all right, I guess. There's a bolt on the +door--better lock yourself in. Few boats ever touches here, but one +_might_ come. I'd hate like thunder to have ye kidnapped--wouldn't want +to lose ye so soon. Did you bring along that sheet? Good. I'll leave you +the lamp while I fixes up a bunk in Mollie's part of the house for my +old bones." + +The little room seemed full of her father's presence. An old coat hung +behind the door. The little old trunk stood against the wall. On the big +box that served for a table, with a mark to keep the place, was a +library book. Happily, sleepy Jeanne did not think of looking at the +card. If she _had_ looked, she would have learned that the book was long +overdue. Thanks to the big clean lake and the wind-swept wharf, there +was no dust to show how long the place had been untenanted. + +The music of the water rippling under the old dock, how sweet it was. +The air that blew in at her open window, how good and how soothing. The +bright stars peeping in through the little square seemed such _friendly_ +stars. Even the cold stiffness of the brand-new sheet was not +sufficiently disturbing to keep the tired little girl awake. + +She found her breakfast on the Captain's stove. Just in time, for the +fire was out and a bright-eyed chipmunk, perched on the edge of the +frying-pan, was nibbling a bit of fried potato. The Captain had +disappeared. Jeanne didn't guess that he had purposely fled. + +"There's so much to do," said Jeanne, eying the Captain's grimy +teakettle, after she had finished her breakfast, "that I don't know +where to begin. If I could find my old pink dress--I know what I'll do, +I'll _buy_ something and make me a great big apron. Even my everyday +clothes are too good for a working lady. But first, I guess I'll clean +the room Old Captain slept in. Mollie kept a lot of old stuff that ought +to be thrown away. I hope there aren't any rats. And I _must_ remember +to mail the letter that I wrote to my grandfather just before I got to +Chicago. It's still in my work-box. I think some fresh hay would be nice +for the Captain's bunk. There's a lot of long grass on top of the +bank--perhaps I can cut some of that and dry it. I used to love to do +that. I could make fresh pillows, too. But I _must_ have something to +work in." + +A very ragged blue cotton shirt of Old Captain's was finally pressed +into service. Of course it was much too big, but Jeanne tied up the +flopping sleeves with bits of twine; found the Captain's broom, and +marched down the dock. + +The morning was gone by the time Old Captain's new room was cleared of +rubbish. Jeanne, clad mostly in the old blue shirt, dumped it into the +lake. Once her work had been interrupted by an old man who wanted to buy +a fish. Jeanne, giggling at a sudden amusing thought, trotted down the +dock to sell it to him from the end of the Captain's car. The business +now was mostly a wholesale one; but neither Jeanne nor the customer knew +that, so the fish were ungrudgingly displayed. + +"Be you the fishman's little girl?" he asked, as Jeanne weighed the +trout he had selected. + +"I _be_," she returned, gravely. But as soon as the customer was out of +earshot, Jeanne's amusing thought became too much for her. + +"If Aunt Agatha could see me now," she giggled, "she'd drop into the +Cinder Pond. And what a splendid splash she'd make! Think of Aunt +Agatha's niece selling a fish! I hope I charged him enough for it. He +looked as if he thought it a good deal." + +It _was_ a good deal. The Captain chuckled when she told him about it. + +"You'd make money at the business," said he, "but I ain't going to have +_you_ sellin' fish. Besides, we ships most of 'em wholesale, out of +town. They'd been none in that there box if Barney'd been tendin' to +business." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +OLD CAPTAIN'S NEWS + + +When Jeanne had finished her morning's housecleaning, the room contained +only the two built-in bunks, one above another, a small box-stove, a +battered golden-oak table, that had once belonged to Mrs. Shannon, a +plain wooden chair, and a home-made bench. + +"Some day," said Jeanne, "I'll _scrub_ that furniture, but if I don't +eat something now I'll _die_. I'm glad James gave me too much money. And +I have nineteen dollars in my pincushion. After I've had lunch I'll go +shopping, for I need a lot of things. Old Captain shall have sheets, +too; and I'll buy some cheap stuff for curtains--it'll be fun to make +them and put them up. I wonder if oilcloth like Aunt Agatha had in her +kitchen costs very much. That would be pleasanter to eat on than +newspapers and very easy to wash. White would be nicest, I think. And +if I could buy some pieces of rag carpet--my floor is pretty cold." + +It was rather a long way to town, but Jeannette, freshened by a bath in +the Cinder Pond and clad in a clean dull-blue linen frock, trudged along +the road until she reached the sidewalk. Here she unfolded something +that she carried in her hand--a small square of cloth. With it she +carefully wiped the dust from her shoes. + +"There," said she, throwing away the rag. "The Cinder Pond Savage looks +a little more like Jeannette Huntington Duval." + +She proved a better shopper than Old Captain. A new five-and-ten-cent +store provided her with some excellent plated knives, forks, and +teaspoons. She bought three of each--Barney might want to stay to supper +sometime. Also a nice smooth saucepan, some fruit, some rolls, some +cookies; besides the white oilcloth, which had proved inexpensive; and +some other drygoods. So many things, in fact, that she wondered how to +get them home. + +[Illustration: SHE ALMOST BUMPED INTO A FORMER ACQUAINTANCE] + +"Where," asked the clerk, at the last place, "shall I send this?" + +"It's out quite a little beyond the town," said Jeanne, doubtfully. + +"This side of the lighthouse?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, we'll send it for you. The wagon is going to the life-saving +station today. I'll send your other parcels, too, if you like." + +"Good," said Jeanne, who meant to watch for the wagon where the road +turned. "Now I'll be able to buy one or two more things." + +Jeanne knew no one in the little town. When you live on a dock, your +nearest neighbors are apt to be seagulls. But, as she turned the corner +near the post office, where she was going to buy stamps, she almost +bumped into a former acquaintance. It was Roger Fairchild, the boy that +she had rescued more than two years previously. Roger was taller, but he +was still quite plump. + +"Oh," gasped Jeanne, recognizing him. + +"_Did_ the water spoil your clothes? I've always wondered about that." + +Roger looked at her sharply. Was it--yes, it _was_ that little shrimp of +a girl that had pulled him out of the lake. She had grown a _little_, +but she was that same child. The tomatoes in the corner grocery were no +redder than Roger turned in that moment. + +"Aw, g'wan," muttered embarrassed Roger, brushing past her. "I don't +know yuh." + +Jeanne felt slightly abashed. "I'm sure," thought she, glancing after +him, "that that's the same boy. There can't be _two_ as fat as that. +Probably he doesn't know me in these clothes. Next time, I'll say a +little more." + +Of course Jeanne had learned under the Huntington roof that +introductions were customary; but you see, when you've saved a person's +life you feel as if that event were introduction enough without further +ceremony. Also, when you've been kind to anybody, even an ungrateful +boy, you have a friendly feeling for him afterwards. Besides, Jeanne +rather liked boys, in a wholesome comrade-y sort of way. + +But if Roger seemingly lacked gratitude, his mother did not. She knew +that Lake Superior was both deep and cold and that even the best of +swimmers had been drowned in its icy waters. She felt that she owed a +large debt of thanks to the tall, mysterious young woman who had saved +her only child from certain death. For two years, she had longed to pay +that debt. + +The Captain and Barney were landing when Jeanne reached the freight car. +She ran down to hold out a hand to Barney. But Barney put his big hands +behind his back. + +"They ain't clean," said he. Then he turned to Old Captain and spoke in +an undertone. "_You_ got to tell her," he said. "I know I promised, but +I can't." + +"I guess it's got to be did," sighed the Old Captain, "but you got to +stand by." + +"This part of the wharf," remarked Jeanne, "looks a great deal battered +up. Aren't some of the timbers gone?" + +"Yes," returned Old Captain. "You see there was a bad storm last +May--Barney was out in it. It--it damaged his boat some." + +"Was Barney alone?" + +"No. Your father and Michael was with him." + +"Barney," demanded Jeanne, "where's my father _now_?" + +Barney, who was scooping fish into a basket, grabbed the handle and +strode away as fast as his long legs would carry him. Old Captain +shouted: "Barney!" but the younger man did not pause. + +"Jeannie girl," said Old Captain, as they followed Barney down the +wharf, "Barney's _ashamed_ to meet you; but he ain't got no call to be. +What happened weren't _his_ fault. But he thinks you'll hate him like +p'isen when you know." + +"_What_ happened?" pleaded Jeanne, pale with dread. + +"It was like this. The squall came up sudden, an' the boat went over. A +tug picked Barney up--he was hangin' on to the bottom of the boat." + +"And--and daddy?" + +"There was nobody there when the tug come but Barney." + +"Was my father--you said daddy and Michael--they _did_ go out that day? +They surely _did_ go in the boat?" + +"Yes," returned Old Captain, sorrowfully. "They went and they didn't +come back. That's all." + +"They went and they didn't come back--they went and they didn't come +back"--Jeanne's feet kept time to the words as the pair walked up the +dock. "They went and they didn't come back." + +Jeanne couldn't believe it. Yet, somehow, she had known it. All that +summer, in spite of her brave assurances to herself, she had +felt--fatherless. The fatherless feeling had been justified. Yet she +_couldn't_ believe it. Her precious father--and poor little Michael! + +"Maybe--maybe you'd want to go inside and cry a bit," suggested the +worried Captain. "Shall I--just hang about outside?" + +Jeanne dropped to the bench outside the car. Her eyes, very wide open +but perfectly tearless, were fixed on Old Captain. Her cheeks were +white. Even her lips were colorless. + +Captain Blossom didn't know _what_ to do. A crying child could be +soothed and comforted with kind words; but this frozen image--this +little white girl with wide black eyes staring through him at the +lake--what _could_ a rough old sailorman do to help her? + +Suddenly, a lanky, bowlegged boy, with big, red ears that almost +flopped, came 'round the corner of the car. + +"Say," said he, "I'm looking for a party named 'Devil'--Jane et a Hungry +Devil, looks like." + +"Right here," returned Old Captain. "It's Jeannette Huntington _Duval_." + +Every inch of that boy was funny. Even his queer voice was provocative +of mirth. Jeanne _laughed_. + +But the boy had barely turned the corner before surprised Jeanne, a +little heap on the bench, was sobbing sobs a great many sizes too large +for her small body. + +"It's soaked in," said the Captain, patting her ponderously. "There, +there, Jeannie girl. There, there. Just cry all ye want to. I cried some +myself, when I heard about it." + +Presently the big Old Captain went inside his old car and there was a +great clatter among the cooking utensils, mingled with a sort of muffled +roar. He was working off his overcharged feelings. + +Jeanne's sobs, having gradually subsided, she began to be conscious of +the unusual disturbance inside the car. Next, she listened--and _hoped_ +that Old Captain wasn't saying bad words, but-- + +"Hum! Ladies present," rose suddenly above the clatter of dishes. The +silence, followed by: "Dumbed if she hasn't eaten all the bread!" + +Right after that the listening Captain heard the sound of tearing +paper. A moment later, Jeanne was in the doorway--a loaf of bread in one +hand, a basket of peaches in the other. Her face was tear-stained, but +her eyes were brave. She even smiled a little, twisty smile--a smile +that all but upset Old Captain. + +"There's some rolls, too," she said, in rather a shaky voice. "Take +these and I'll bring you the tablecloth. After this, I'm going to be the +supper cook. I planned it all out this morning." + +Jeanne, brave little soul that she was, was back among the everyday +things of life. The greatly relieved Captain beamed at the shining white +tablecloth and the cheap, plated silver. He picked up one of the new +knives and viewed it admiringly. + +"I ain't et with a shiny knife like this since I was keepin' bachelor's +hall," said he. "I'll just admire eatin' fried potatoes with this here +knife." + +The Captain was very sociable that evening. He had to see the contents +of all the parcels, and expressed great admiration for the checked +gingham that was to be made into a big apron. Once, he disappeared to +rummage about in the dark, further end of the long car. Presently he +returned with a rusty tin box. + +"This here," said he, "is my bank." + +He opened it. It was filled with money. + +"You see," said he, "when you earns more than you spends, the stuff +piles up. Now here's a nice empty can. We'll set it, inconspicuous-like, +in this here corner of the cupboard. Any time you wants any money for +anything--clothes or food or anything at all--you look in this can. +There'll be some thar. You see, you're _my_ little girl, just now. The +rest'll be put away safe--you can forgit about _that_. Was that there a +yawn? Gettin' sleepy, are you? Well, well, where's the lantern?" + +At the door of the Duval shack, Jeanne stumbled over something--a large +basket with the cover fastened down tight. Jeanne carried it inside and +lifted the cover. It contained four small kittens and a bottle of milk. +A card hung from the neck of the bottle. On it was printed: + + "We got no Mother. From BARNEY." + +"Drat him," said the Captain, "them kittens'll keep you awake." + +"Not if I feed them," returned Jeanne. "Of course I shall still love +Bayard Taylor, but after all, kittens are a lot more cuddle-y than +snails. I'm so glad Barney thought of them. They're _dear_--such a +pretty silvery gray with white under their chins. I do hope they'll find +me a nice mother." + +By the time the kittens were fed and asleep, Jeanne, who had certainly +spent an exhausting day, was no longer able to keep her eyes open. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ROGER'S RAZOR + + +"This here is Saturday," said Old Captain, at breakfast time. "Our +cupboard is pretty bare of bacon, potatoes, and things like that. I'll +go up town after the fodder. Then this afternoon, me and you'll go to +see Mollie. Most ginerally I takes her somethin'--fruit like, or a +bouquet--old Mrs. Schmidt gives me a grand bunch for a quarter. It's +quite a walk to that there hospital, so don't you go a-tirin' of +yourself out doin' too much work; but I sure did enjoy my room last +night--all clean an' ship-shape." + +"Wait till _tonight_!" said Jeanne. "You'll have _sheets_!" + +"Will I?" returned Old Captain, a bit doubtfully. "Well, I _may_ get +used to 'em. They does dress up a bed." + +In spite of the squealing kittens, in spite of the many small tasks that +Jeanne found to do, many times that morning her eyes filled with tears. +Poor daddy and Michael--to go like that. Curiously enough, the +remembrance of a drowned sailor, whose body had once been washed up on +the beach near the dock, brought Jeanne a certain sense of comfort. + +The sailor had looked as if he hadn't _cared_. He was dead and he didn't +_mind_. He had looked peaceful--almost happy; as if his body was just an +old one that he had been rather glad to throw away. + +"His soul," Léon Duval had said, when he found his small daughter in the +little crowd of bystanders on the beach, "isn't there. That is only his +body. The man himself is elsewhere." + +"_Father_ doesn't care," said Jeanne, and tried to be happy in that +comforting thought. + +That afternoon, they visited Mollie. + +"This bein' a special occasion," said Old Captain, "I got _both_ fruit +and flowers. You kin carry the bouquet." + +It took courage to carry it, but Jeanne rose nobly to the occasion. She +couldn't help giggling, however, when she tried to picture Mrs. +Huntington, suddenly presented with a similar offering. There was a +tiger lily in the center, surrounded by pink sweet-peas. Outside of +this, successive rings of orange marigolds, purple asters, scarlet +geraniums and candytuft, with a final fringe of blue cornflowers. + +"If I meet that fat boy," thought Jeanne, wickedly, "I'll bow to him." + +"Once I took a all-white one," confessed Captain Blossom, with a pleased +glance at the bouquet, "but the nurse, she said 'Bring colored +flowers--they're more cheerful.' 'Make it cheerful,' says I, to Mrs. S. +Now that there _is_ cheerful, ain't it?" + +"Yes," agreed Jeanne, "it _is_. Even at Aunt Agatha's biggest dinner +party there wasn't a _more_ cheerful one than this. I'm sure Mollie will +like it." + +But _was_ that Mollie--that absolutely neat white creature in the neat +white bed? There was the pale red hair neatly braided in a shining halo +above the serene forehead. The mild blue eyes looked lazily at the +bouquet, then at Jeanne. The old, good-natured smile curved her lips. + +"Hello, Jeanne," she said, "you're lookin' fine. You see, I'm sick abed, +but I'm real comfortable--real comfortable and happy." Then she fell +asleep. + +"It's the medicine," said the nurse. "She sleeps most of the time. But +even when she's awake, nothing troubles her." + +"Nothin' ever did," returned Old Captain. "But then, there's some that +worries _too_ much." + +They met Barney in the road above the dock. Jeanne held out her hand. +Big, raw-boned Barney gripped it with both of his, squeezed it hard--and +fled. + +"You tell him," said Jeanne, with the little twisty smile that was not +very far from tears, "to come to dinner tomorrow--that _I_ invited him +and am going to make him a pudding. Poor old Barney! We've got to make +him feel comfortable. Tell him I bought a fork--no, a _knife_ especially +for him." + +"Barney's as good as gold," returned Old Captain. "But, for a man of +forty-seven, he's too dinged shy. 'Barney,' says I, more'n once, 'you'd +ought to get married.' 'There's as good fish in the sea as ever come +out,' says Barney. 'Yes,' says I, 'but ain't the bait gittin' some +stale?'" + + * * * * * + +"Is it _really_ September?" asked Jeanne, one morning, studying the +little calendar she had found in her work-box. + +"Today's the fourteenth," replied Old Captain. "What of it?" + +"I'm worried," said Jeanne. "I came to make a _visit_, but I haven't +heard a word from Aunt Agatha or my grandfather about going back, or +_anything_. Of course, I _ought_ to be in school." + +"There's a good school here. You have clothes--an' can get more." + +"I don't _want_ to go back to Aunt Agatha, you know. I'm sure she's +_very_ angry at me for running away. It took her a long, long time to +get over it after I went swimming in the fountain. I suppose this is +worse." + +"Well, this here weren't exactly your fault." + +"I'm bothered about my grandfather, too. I've written to him four times +and I haven't heard a _word_." + +"You told them about your father--" + +"No," confessed Jeanne, "I didn't. I _couldn't_ write about it to Aunt +Agatha--she despised him. And I heard James say that any bad news or +_anything_ very sudden would--would bring on another one of those +strokes. Of course they think I'm with daddy--I didn't think of that. I +didn't _mean_ to deceive anybody." + +"Well," said Old Captain, "I guess your idee of not startling your +gran'-daddy was all right. But you'd better write your Aunt Agathy, some +day, an' tell her about your father. There's no hurry. I'd _ruther_ you +stayed right here." + +"And I'd rather stay." + +"Then stay you do. But before real cold weather comes we gotta fix up +some place ashore for you, where there's somebody to keep a good fire +goin'. Maybe me and Barney can build on an addition behind this here +car--say two good rooms with a door through from here. But there's no +need to worry for a good while yet. We're cozy enough for the present +and October's sure to be pleasant--allus is. About school, now. I guess +you'd better start next Monday. Whatever damage there is, for books or +anything else, I'll stand it. An' if there was music lessons, now--" + +Jeanne made a face. Old Captain chuckled. + +"Maybe," said he, "there wouldn't be time for that." + +"I'm _sure_ there wouldn't," agreed Jeanne. + +On Saturday, Jeanne went up town to buy food. But first she visited the +five-and-ten-cent store to buy an egg-beater. Just outside, she came +face to face with Roger Fairchild--and his mother. + +Jeanne, an impish light in her black eyes (she was only sorry that she +wasn't carrying one of Mrs. Schmidt's outrageous bouquets), stopped +square in front of the stout boy and said: + +"_Did_ you spoil your clothes?" + +As before, Roger turned several shades of crimson. Jeanne did not look +almost fourteen, for she was still rather small for her years. + +"_Did_ you?" persisted his tormenter. + +"Yes, I did," growled Roger. "Hurry on, Mother. I gotta get a haircut as +soon as we've had that ice cream." + +Jeanne explained the matter to Old Captain, who had heard about the +accident to Roger. + +"He's one of the kind of boys you can _tease_," said Jeanne. "I'm afraid +I _like_ to tease, just a little. He looks like sort of a baby-boy, +doesn't he?" + +Meanwhile, the boy's mother was questioning her curiously embarrassed +son. + +"Roger," said she, "who _was_ that pretty child and what did she mean?" + +"I dunno," fibbed Roger. + +"Yes, you _do_. _What_ clothes?" + +"Oh, old ones--don't bother." + +"I _insist_ on knowing." + +"Aw, what's the use--the ones that got in the lake and shrunk so I +couldn't wear 'em," mumbled Roger. "Come on, here's the ice-cream +place." + +"How did _she_ know about your clothes?" persisted Mrs. Fairchild. + +"Aw," growled Roger, "she was hangin' 'round." + +"When you fell in?" demanded Mrs. Fairchild, eagerly. "Does she know +that noble girl that saved you? Does she--_does_ she, Roger?" + +"Oh, I s'pose so," said Roger. "How should _I_ know--come on, your ice +cream'll get cold." + +"But, Roger--" + +"Say," said desperate Roger, whose chin was as smooth as his mother's, +"if you ever buy me a razor, I wish you'd buy _this_ kind--here in this +window. Look at it. That's a _dandy_ razor." + +"A razor!" gasped Mrs. Fairchild. "What in the world--" + +Roger gave a sigh of relief. His mother had been switched from that +miserable Cinder Pond child. He chatted so freely about razors that his +mother was far from guessing that he knew as little about them as she +did. + +"Fancy you wanting a razor!" commented his astonished mother. + +"There's no great rush," admitted Roger, feeling his smooth cheek, "but +I bet I'll get whiskers before you do." + +"They'll be pink, like your eyebrows," retaliated Mrs. Fairchild, "but +never mind; my eyebrows grew darker and yours will." + +"Gee!" thought Roger, "I'm glad I thought of that razor--that was a +close shave." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A NEW FRIEND FOR JEANNE + + +The very next day, when Old Captain and Jeanne were coming away from the +hospital, they met Mrs. Fairchild going in to visit a sick friend. The +impulsive little lady pounced upon Jeanne. + +"Please don't think that I'm crazy," said she, in a voice that Jeanne +considered decidedly pleasing, "but you're _just_ the person I wish to +see. One day, more than two years ago, my son Roger fell into Lake +Superior and was _almost_ drowned. He says that you know the girl--a +very _large_ girl, Roger said she was--that saved his life. Just think! +Not a word of thanks have I ever been able to give her. I am _so_ +anxious to meet that brave girl." + +"Well," said Old Captain, with a twinkle in his eye, "you're meetin' her +right now. She tore a hole two feet across that there net o' mine +savin' your boy. That's how I come to know about it." + +"Not this _little_ girl!" + +"It was mostly the net," said Jeanne, modestly. "I just threw it over +the place where he went down. His fingers _had_ to grab it. I lived +right there, you know, and I had pulled my little brother Sammy out ever +so many times. He was _always_ tumbling in." + +"My dear," declared Mrs. Fairchild, "I'm going home with you. I want to +see the exact spot. Roger has always been so vague about it. Get into my +car--it's just outside the gate--and I'll drive you there. I must run in +here first, but I won't stay two minutes." + +It was Old Captain's first ride in an automobile, and he was surprised +to find himself within sight of his own home in a very few minutes after +leaving the hospital. + +"This here buggy's some traveler," said he, admiringly. + +They escorted Mrs. Fairchild to the end of the dock, to show her the +spot from which Roger had taken his dangerous plunge. She looked down +into the green depths and shuddered. + +"Ugh!" she said, "it _looks_ a mile deep. Oh, I'm _so_ thankful you +happened to be here." + +Next, she inspected the shack on the dock; after that, the Captain's old +freight car. + +"And you _live_ here!" she said, seating herself on the bench outside +and drawing Jeanne down beside her. "I want you to tell me all about it +and about _you_. I want your whole history." + +By asking a great many questions (she had lived with Roger long enough +to learn how to do that) she soon knew a great deal about Jeanne, her +life on the wharf, her two years with the Huntingtons, her father's +wishes for her. Jeanne found it not only easy but pleasant to chatter to +her sympathetic new acquaintance. + +"This is a beautiful spot in summer," said Mrs. Fairchild, when she had +the whole story, "but it is no place for a girl in winter. The minute +cold weather comes, unless your people have already sent for you, I am +going to carry you off to visit me. Of course, if you didn't happen to +like us, you wouldn't have to stay; but I do want you to try us. _You_ +know who Mr. Fairchild is, Captain Blossom--the lawyer, you know--so you +see you can trust us with her. At any rate, my dear, you can stay with +me until your people send for you. You see, neither Mr. Fairchild nor I +will be able to rest until we've had a chance to know you better and to +thank you--to _really_ thank you. I'm _very_ grateful to you. Roger's +our only child; you saved him for us. I've had you on my conscience for +more than two years. You _will_ come, won't you?" + +"If I could think about it just a little," said Jeanne, shyly. + +"You must persuade her, Captain Blossom. You _know_ she'd be better off +with me--so much nearer school and other nice girls of her own age. I +shall simply love to have her--I'm fond of her already." + +Mrs. Fairchild was a pretty little woman, impulsive, kind-hearted, and +very loyal in her friendships. One had only to look at her to know that +she was good. Not a very wise woman, perhaps; but a very kind one. Her +son Roger--she had lost her first two babies--was undoubtedly rather +badly spoiled. Had her other children lived, Roger would certainly have +been more severely disciplined. + +"I'm coming tomorrow afternoon," said she, at parting, "to take this +little girl for a ride." + +"That'll be lovely," returned Jeanne. + +After that, Mrs. Fairchild made a point of borrowing Jeanne frequently. +Her comfortable little open car often stopped in the road above the +Captain's old freight car to honk loudly for Jeanne, and she often +carried the Cinder Pond child home with her, and kept her to meals. Mrs. +Fairchild was the nearest approach to a girl companion that Jeanne had +ever had. Jeanne _liked_ the pretty, fair-haired lady, who was so +delightfully young for her thirty-seven years. She also liked Mr. +Fairchild child, whose clothes were quite as good as those of her Uncle +Charles, while his manners were certainly better--at any rate, far more +cordial. + +"I'm crazy about dolls," confessed Mrs. Fairchild, one day, when she had +Jeanne beside her in the little car. "I've promised to dress a whole +dozen for the church guild. I want you to help me buy them right now. +Won't that be fun? And we'll dress them together. You shall choose the +dresses for six of them. Isn't it a shame I never had any little girls +of my own?" + +Of course sympathetic Mrs. Fairchild heard all about Sammy, Annie, and +Patsy, and how disappointed Jeanne had been to find them missing. + +"I'm _worried_ about them," confessed Jeanne. "Their new uncle _may_ be +good to them, but I'd like to know for _certain_. I'm bothered most +about Annie. She's such a good, gentle little thing and Mrs. Shannon was +always awfully cross to her." + +"While we're dressing our other dolls," said Mrs. Fairchild, "we might +make a little dress for Annie." + +"She's almost six," sighed Jeanne. "I do wish I could watch her grow +up--and teach her to be _nice_. But, of course, making a dress for her +will help a little!" + +Of Roger, Jeanne saw but little. At first he avoided her; still, he +_did_ speak, when they met face to face; and, in the course of time, he +was even able to say, "Hello, Jeanne!" without blushing. + +Jeanne went to school. It was a long walk and she hated to miss a single +moment of the outdoor life on the old dock; but going to school was +something that she could do for her father. Her clothes were beginning +to trouble her a little. Some were wearing out, others seemed to be +getting smaller. Jeanne, you see, was growing and her garments were not. +Still, the other pupils were far from suspecting that Jeanne was a +motherless, fatherless waif from the Cinder Pond. She was always neat; +and even daintier than many of her classmates; but the washing, +ironing, and mending necessary to insure this daintiness, meant +considerable work on Jeanne's part. + +One evening, when she had taken off her dress to replace a button, it +occurred to Jeanne to feel in the pockets of her father's old coat--the +coat that still hung behind the door of Léon Duval's room. She found in +the pocket a letter that he had written. Except for a stamp, it was all +ready to be mailed to _her_. She read it greedily. + +There was the usual home news; but one paragraph stood out from all the +others: "Be patient and learn all you can, my Jeanne. You, in turn, can +teach it all to Annie and your brothers. Even the hated arithmetic you +must conquer." + +"Oh," sighed Jeanne, "I'm so glad I found this. I _will_ conquer those +mathematics, and I _will_ teach those children, some day. Perhaps I'll +have to teach kindergarten after all, so as to earn money enough to go +after them. And dear me, they're growing older every minute. But, no +matter how hard it is for me, I'm going to look after those children the +very first minute I can." + +While Jeanne was waiting for the first cold weather or else for news +from the Huntingtons--one _couldn't_ tell which would come first--she +studied to such purpose that her first month's marks surprised even +herself, they were so good. + +Another night, when she had gone early to the shack in order to mend a +long rent in her petticoat, she found herself with half an hour to spare +before bedtime. She had left her books on Old Captain's table and the +kittens were also in the Captain's car. For once, now that her mending +was finished, she had nothing to do unless she were to dress, and go up +the dock to Old Captain's. And that, she decided, was too much trouble +for so short a time. She was obliged to stand on a box to reach the nail +she liked best for her dress. As she did so this time, the lamplight +fell upon a crack in the wall that was level with her eyes, and +contained something that suddenly glittered. She fished the small +object from its hiding-place; and recognized in it the key to her +father's little old trunk. She looked at it thoughtfully. Perhaps, since +she was so very lonely for her father, he wouldn't mind if she opened +that trunk to see what articles he had handled last. + +She moved the lamp to a box beside the trunk, turned the key, and lifted +the cover. Her father's best suit was there, very neatly folded, and his +shoes. From under these came a gleam of something faintly pink. Jeanne +carefully drew it forth. + +"My old pink dress!" she exclaimed. + +Jeanne slipped it on. It was much too short. + +"Why," said she, "what a lot I've grown!" + +Upright in one corner of the trunk, Jeanne found a green bottle. It held +a withered stalk to which two dried pink petals still clung. + +"I left that bottle with a rose in it on father's table when I went +away," said Jeanne. "He must have found it there when he got back and +_kept_ it. And this dress. He didn't give it to Annie. He _kept it_. +And I'm glad. Sometimes, when I was so awfully lonesome at Aunt +Agatha's, I used to wonder if my father really _did_ love me. But now I +_know_ he did--every single minute. I'll put this dress back where I +found it." + +Another thing that came to light was her father's bankbook. She showed +that, the next day, to Old Captain, who studied it carefully. + +"I'm glad," said Jeanne, "that there's a little money. It may be needed +for Mollie." + +It was. One day, early in October, Mollie failed to waken from one of +her comfortable naps. Thanks to Léon Duval's modest savings, poor Mollie +was decently buried. Mrs. Fairchild took Jeanne and Old Captain and all +the flowers from Mrs. Schmidt's little greenhouse to the very simple +funeral. + +"I've got to be a mother to Mollie's children just as soon as ever I +can," said Jeanne, on the way home. "I was going to do it for daddy, +anyway; but now I want to for Mollie, too." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MOLLIE'S BABIES + + +The following week, Jeanne and two of the kittens went to live with Mrs. +Fairchild. The other two were to stay with Old Captain, who, it seemed, +was fond of kittens. Jeanne was spared the necessity of dividing the +snail. Bayard Taylor had run away! As snails aren't exactly built for +running, Old Captain and Barney considered this a huge joke. Whether +Bayard Taylor crawled over the edge of the dock and fell in, or whether +one of the playful kittens batted him overboard, or whether he was +hidden in some crevice among the cinders, nobody ever knew. Though +diligently sought for, the great American traveler never turned up. + +Mr. Fairchild warmly welcomed both Jeanne and the kittens and declared +that he was delighted to have somebody to make the table come out even +at meal times. + +"With three people," said he, "there's always somebody left out in the +cold. Now we can talk in pairs." + +Mrs. Fairchild was like a child with a new toy. Jeanne's room was newly +decorated and even refurnished for her. It was the very girliest of +girl's rooms and the windows overlooked the lake. Jeanne was glad of +that. It made it seem like home. + +Next, her wardrobe was replenished. Mrs. Huntington had replenished +Jeanne's wardrobe more than once; but this was different. Loving care +went into the selecting of every garment, and it made a surprising +difference. Jeanne _loved_ her new clothes, her pretty, yet suitable +trinkets; for Mrs. Fairchild's taste was better than Mrs. Huntington's +and she took keen pleasure in choosing shades and colors that were +becoming to Jeanne's gypsy-like skin. The Fairchilds were delighted with +her appearance. + +Roger proved a comfortable housemate. He wasn't a tease, like Harold. +Jeanne neither liked nor disliked him. She merely regarded him as part +of the Fairchilds' furniture--the dining-room furniture, because she saw +him mostly at meals. Roger certainly liked to eat. When he discovered +that the visitor showed no inclination to talk about his undignified +tumble into the lake, he found her presence rather agreeable than +otherwise. With Jeanne to consider, his mother hadn't quite so much time +to fuss over _him_. He hated to be fussed over. Moreover, she couldn't +look at Jeanne and the marmalade at the same time. Roger, who loved +marmalade, was glad of that. + +One morning the express wagon stopped in front of Mrs. Fairchild's +house. The express-man delivered a large wooden box addressed to "Miss +J.H. Duval." + +"This must be for you, Jeanne," said Mrs. Fairchild. + +"Why, yes," said Jeanne, eying the address. "I suppose I _am_ Miss J.H. +Duval. I wonder who sent it." + +"Let's look inside," said Mrs. Fairchild. "We'll get Roger to open it." + +The box proved, when opened, to contain every garment and every article +that Jeanne had left at the Huntingtons'. The things had not been nicely +packed and were pretty well jumbled together. + +"I guess," said Mrs. Fairchild, shrewdly, "they were just _dumped_ in. +What _are_ they, anyway?" + +"The clothes I left behind me," returned Jeanne, who had flushed and +then paled at sight of her belongings. "I guess--I guess Aunt Agatha +doesn't want me to go back." + +Jeanne didn't _want_ to go back; yet it seemed rather appalling to learn +so conclusively that she wasn't expected. Her lips began to quiver, +ominously. + +"I'm glad she doesn't," said Mrs. Fairchild, with an arm about Jeanne. +"I want you myself. I couldn't _think_ of losing you now. You see, I +wrote to her and told her that you were to visit me; and about your +father. I suppose this is her reply--it isn't exactly a gracious one." + +"I'm afraid I've outgrown some of the things, but this party dress was +always too long and the petticoats have big tucks in them." + +"Perhaps we can send whatever proves too small to Annie." + +"They'd be too big, for a year or two; but I'd like to keep them for +her. I'm glad of my books, anyway, and daddy's letters--they're safe in +this writing-paper box." + +Suddenly Mrs. Fairchild began to laugh softly. Jeanne looked at her in +amazement. Jeanne herself had been rather close to tears. + +"I feel," said Mrs. Fairchild, "as if I'd been unexpectedly slapped in +the face. I wrote Mrs. Huntington such a _nice_ letter. And now this +box--_hurled_ at little you." + +"Aunt Agatha always makes people feel slapped," assured Jeanne, +brightening. + +"Then I'm gladder than ever that she doesn't want you. I was horribly +afraid she might." + +Shortly after this, Old Captain, who had sent the news of Mollie's death +to St. Louis, received a letter from Mollie's brother. Captain Blossom +toiled up the hill to show it to Jeanne. + +Things were going badly in John Shannon's family. Work was slack and old +Mrs. Shannon was a great trial to her daughter-in-law, who was not very +well. The children, too, were very troublesome. Their new aunt, it +seemed, had no patience with "brats." They had all been sick with mumps, +measles, and whooping cough and would, just as like as not, come down +with scarlet fever and chicken pox. Both Sammy and Patsy seemed to be +sickly, anyway. + +"You see," explained Old Captain, "them children didn't have no chance +to catch nothin' in Bancroft--out on that there old dock where nobody +ever come with them there germs. No wonder they're sick, with all them +germs gettin' 'em to onct." + +Altogether, it was a _very_ depressing letter. It confirmed all Jeanne's +fears and presented her with several new ones. + +"They don't even go to school," sighed Jeanne. "But oh, I wish they had +a nice aunt. There must be _some_ nice aunts in the world; but I'm sure +_she_ isn't a nice one." + +"I guess poor John picked the wrong woman," said Old Captain, shrewdly. +"There's some that's kind to other people's children and some that +ain't. John seemed a kind sort of chap, himself; but if his wife wan't a +natural-born mother, with real mother feelin's, why all John's kindness +couldn't make up for her cussedness, if she felt to be cussed. It's too +bad, too bad. They was good little shavers. That there Sammy, now. I'd +take _him_, myself." + +"Oh," pleaded Jeanne, "I wish you'd take them _all_." + +Old Captain shook his head. "My heart's big enough," he said, "but my +freight car ain't." + +"But the dock is," said Jeanne. "And there's the shack--" + +"That shack's no place for children in cold weather. It's too far to +school and _I_ got to stay with my fish. Besides, I ain't goin' to +marry no lady whatsoever to take care of no family of children. I'm a +_durned_--hum, ladies present--real good cook and women-folks is mostly +one kind outside and another kind inside. I had one wife and she give me +this." + +Jeanne and Mrs. Fairchild looked with interest at the inch-long furrow +on the Captain's bald pate. + +"She done it with the dipper," concluded the Captain. + +"I'm sure I don't blame you," said Mrs. Fairchild, "for your caution." + +"I s'pose," queried Old Captain, who seemed to be enjoying the glass of +sweet cider and the plate of cookies that Mrs. Fairchild had offered +him, "you ain't heard nothin' from the Huntingtons?" + +"Well," explained Mrs. Fairchild, "I wrote to Mrs. Huntington two weeks +ago, explaining matters and asking for news of Jeanne's grandfather--she +has been very anxious about him, you know--" + +"An' she ain't wrote _yit_? Well, the old _iceberg_!" + +Jeanne giggled. She couldn't help it. She had so often compared chilly +Aunt Agatha, whose frozen dignity had unpleasantly impressed older +persons than Jeanne, with the curious ice-formations along the lake +shore in winter. They looked, sometimes, precisely like smooth, cold +ladies, waiting for the warm sun to come and melt them. Aunt Agatha, +however, had not melted. + +"She sent Jeanne's clothes," explained Mrs. Fairchild, "but she didn't +write. Evidently, she is going to let us keep our nice girl." + +Jeanne was glad she was to stay. But those poor children! The more +comfortable she was herself, the more she worried over their possible +discomforts. She possessed a vivid imagination and it busied itself now +with those three poor babies. If Mollie had been too lazy to properly +wash and clothe her children, at least she had cuddled and comforted +them with her soft, affectionate hands. Even cold Mrs. Huntington had +not been cross or ugly. She had merely been unloving. Suppose, in +addition to being unloving, the new aunt were cross and _cruel_! Suppose +she whipped those ailing babies and locked them up in dark closets! +Jeanne worried about it before she went to sleep at night and awoke +before daylight to imagine new horrors. No aunt _could_ have been as +black as Jeanne's fancy finally painted that one. + +"That child is _moping_," said Mrs. Fairchild, one day. "In some ways, +she is an old little person. Sometimes she reproaches herself for having +deserted her grandfather--she fears he may be missing her. And she is +_terribly_ unhappy about those children. She thinks of them constantly +and imagines dreadful things. Since that letter came, she hasn't been +able to enjoy her meals for fear Annie and Sammy have been sent +supperless to bed. I declare, some days, I'm more than half tempted to +_send_ for those children." + +"Not with my consent," said Mr. Fairchild, firmly. "I am glad to have +Jeanne here. It's a good thing for both of you and it isn't doing Roger +any harm. I'm glad to feed and clothe and educate her; and to keep her +forever if necessary; because she's all wool and a yard wide--you know +what I mean. I like her well enough to do anything _in reason_ for her. +But Roger will have to go to college some day; and you know, my dear, I +am only a moderately rich man. I can take good care of you three, but +that's all. It wouldn't be fair to Roger to add three more or even two +more to this family. You see, something might happen to _me_, and then, +where would _you_ be, with five hungry children to support?" + +"Of course you're right," sighed Mrs. Fairchild; "but Jeanne is +certainly unhappy about those children." + +"She must learn to be contented without them," returned Mr. Fairchild. +"She'll forget them, in time." + +But Jeanne wasn't contented and she couldn't forget the babies that had +been so much a part of her young life on the dock. Still, because she +was a considerate young person, she tried not to talk about them; she +even tried to pretend that she wasn't thinking of them; but Mrs. +Fairchild knew, when she caught the big dark eyes gazing off into space, +that they were seeing moving pictures of Sammy, Annie, and Patsy getting +spanked by the crossest of aunts and scolded by the ugliest of +grandmothers. + +Of course she had written to them from time to time; but Sammy was +barely seven and probably _couldn't_ write. At any rate, no one had +answered her letters or acknowledged her small gifts. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE HOUSE OF DREAMS + + +"Letters for everybody," said Roger, one morning; "even for Jeanne who +_never_ gets any. A bill for you, Father; an invitation for you, Mother; +a circular for me; and Jeanne gets the only real letter in the bunch. +It's from Chicago." + +The Fairchilds were at the breakfast table and everybody looked eagerly +at Jeanne. + +"It must be from the Rossiters," said she. "I wrote to Mrs. Rossiter +ever so long ago--oh! they've been to Alaska--they always travel a lot. +And my letter followed them from place to place, and they didn't get it +until just the other day. But oh! Here's news of my grandfather. I'll +read it to you: + +"'We were so sorry to hear, through Mr. Charles Huntington, that your +grandfather is in such a hopeless condition. He has been absolutely +helpless for the past three months and his mind is completely gone. He +knows no one and I am sure does not miss you, so, my dear, you need +worry no longer about that. I doubt if he has been well enough, for a +single day since you saw him last, to miss anybody.'" + +"I'm sorry my grandfather is like that," said Jeanne, "but of course I'm +glad he doesn't miss me. I'm afraid he won't be able to use the nice +handkerchief that I'm embroidering that lovely 'H' on for Christmas. +Poor grandfather. He's been sick so long." + +"Anyway," said Mrs. Fairchild, seeking to divert her, "Annie will like +her doll." + +"Yes," said Jeanne, brightening, "she'll just love it. We never had any +Christmas on the dock and the Huntingtons had a very grown-up one--no +toys or trees or stockings. I've always wanted to _see_ a 'Merry +Christmas.'" + +"You're going to," assured Mrs. Fairchild. "Captain Blossom shall come +to dinner and we'll have a tree. He'd make a splendid Santa Claus, +wouldn't he? We'll all be young and foolish and you shall invite Bessie +and Lucy, and any other of your schoolmates that you like, to your +tree--there'll be plenty of extra candy boxes and a lot of little +trinkets that will fit _anybody_." + +For Jeanne had girl friends! More than that, Lucy's father was a +carpenter and Mrs. Fairchild didn't _care_. She said he was a _good_ +carpenter; and that Lucy was a sweet girl. And Bessie lived in an +unfashionable part of town. Mrs. Fairchild didn't mind that, either; nor +the fact that the girl's father sold meat in his corner grocery. Bessie, +she said, was a dear, with _such_ a nice mother. She had taken pains to +find out. + +Jeanne couldn't help remembering her experience with Lizzie, Susie, and +Aunt Agatha; nor feeling that Mrs. Fairchild's attitude toward her +friends was much pleasanter. She was having lunch with Bessie, one day +in November, when Mr. Fairchild brought home a piece of news. + +"Does anybody in this house happen to know the whereabouts of a young +woman named Jeannette Huntington Duval?" he asked, when he came in that +noon. + +"Jeanne? She's having lunch with Bessie. It's Bessie's birthday." + +"Good! And Roger?" + +"Gone to Ishpeming for the ball game." + +"Good again! I have something to tell you. A very good-looking young +lawyer from Pennsylvania was directed to my office this morning in his +search for the missing heir to a very respectable fortune." + +"What _do_ you mean?" demanded Mrs. Fairchild. "Whose heir? Whose +fortune?" + +"Jeanne's grandfather died nearly two weeks ago," returned Mr. +Fairchild. "Although he is known to have made a will, many years ago, +leaving all his money to his son Charles, no such will has been found +among his effects. He kept it in his own possession. Unless it turns +up--and you can believe me, the Huntingtons have made a pretty thorough +search--his very considerable estate will be equally divided between his +son Charles and Jeanne--_our_ Jeanne. It is practically certain that the +will no longer exists." + +"I do hope it doesn't, since Mrs. Huntington was so horrid to Jeanne." + +"So do I. You must tell Jeanne about her grandfather, I suppose; but it +will be wiser not to mention the money until we are _sure_. I'm +certainly glad we adopted her _before_ this happened. I'd _never_ have +consented to adopt an heiress." + +"Nor I," said Mrs. Fairchild. "I think I'd almost rather have her +_poor_--it's such fun to give her things." + +"Well, she _may_ be, if that will turns up. Be sure you don't tell her." + +"I won't," promised Mrs. Fairchild. "I'd hate to have her disappointed." + +That afternoon, the good little woman broke the news of Mr. Huntington's +death to Jeanne, who took it very calmly. + +"Poor grandfather," she said. "I don't believe he _minds_ being dead, +as long as he couldn't get well. But Uncle Charles was always very kind +to him." + +"In what way?" + +"Why, he gave him a comfortable home and that nice James to take care of +him, and a trained nurse when he needed one--Aunt Agatha said that +trained nurses cost a great deal. I guess Uncle Charles is glad now that +he gave his father everything he needed." + +So Jeanne had not known that the money had belonged to her grandfather +or that the house that Mrs. Huntington always called "my house" had also +belonged to the old man. She had loved him for himself. Mrs. Fairchild +was glad of that. But she found keeping the secret of Jeanne's possible +fortune a very great trial. + +"You _know_, Edward," she complained to her husband, "I never _could_ +keep a secret. Do write to that lawyer man and find out for certain." + +Still, she _kept_ it; but she couldn't resist playing around the +troublesome burden. + +"What would you buy," she asked, the first time she was alone with +Jeanne, "if you had oodles and oodles and oodles of money? An +automobile? A diamond ring? A pet monkey? Or all three?" + +"How big is an oodle?" asked Jeanne, cautiously. + +"That's too much for me," laughed Mrs. Fairchild. "But suppose you had a +million--or enough so you'd always have plenty for whatever you happened +to feel like doing. Would you travel?" + +"Yes," said Jeanne, "to St. Louis, to get those children. Sometimes I +make up a sort of a story about that when I can't go to sleep. I find a +great big chest full of money on the Cinder Pond beach, and then I spend +it." + +"How?" + +"Well, first I go after those children. And then I buy the Cinder Pond +and build a lovely big home-y house like this on the green hillside back +of it--across the road, you know, from where we go down to the dock. And +of course I always buy the dock and the pond for sort of an extra front +yard. Then, I have a comfortable big automobile with a very good-natured +chauffeur to take the children to and from school and a rented mother--" + +"A _what_?" + +"A nice, mother-y person to keep house and tell the cook--a very good +one like Bridget--what to give us for meals. I always have a nice supper +ready for Old Captain, ready on his table to surprise him when he comes +home at night. That is, in summer. In winter, he lives with us. Of +course I'm having the children educated so they can earn their own +living when they grow up, because I might want to be married some +day--I've decided to wait, though, until I'm about twenty-seven, because +it's so much fun to be just a girl. I'll have Sammy learn to be a +discoverer, I think, because he's so inquisitive; and maybe Annie can +sing in a choir--she has a _sweet_ little voice. And Patsy loves +grasshoppers--I don't know just what he _can_ do." + +"Perhaps he'll make a good naturalist, a professor of zoölogy," laughed +Mrs. Fairchild, "but you've left _me_ out." + +"Oh, no, I haven't. You're my fairy godmother and my very best friend. +You always help me buy clothes for the children and pick out wallpapers +and rugs and things. You always have _lovely_ times in my house." + +"I'd certainly have the time of my life," agreed Mrs. Fairchild, "if +your dream-house were real." + +"Well," sighed Jeanne, "it isn't--in the daytime. I've only two dollars +left in my pincushion. I guess that wouldn't raise a very large family. +And there isn't any way for a chest of gold to be washed up on the +Cinder Pond beach, because no ship could get inside the pond, unless it +climbed right over the dock. And of course, without that chest, the rest +of the dream wouldn't work. I've tried to move the chest to the _other_ +beach; but some way, it doesn't fit that one--other people might see it +there and find it first." + +"Yes," agreed Mrs. Fairchild, "the chest is certainly the most necessary +part of that dream; but I fear Old Captain is the only golden treasure +the Cinder Pond has for us: I like him better every time I see him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +A PADLOCKED DOOR + + +Mr. Huntington's lawyers assured Mr. Fairchild, who had written to find +out more definitely about the settling of Mr. Huntington's estate, that +there was practically no doubt that Jeannette Huntington Duval, being +her mother's sole heir, would inherit half of her grandfather's large +fortune, safely invested in a long list of things, as soon as certain +formalities had been observed. Further search had revealed no trace of +the lost document. Undoubtedly Mr. Huntington had destroyed it. + +Perhaps, if Jeanne had known that Aunt Agatha was all but tearing the +old house to pieces in hopes of finding a certain very valuable +document, she _might_ have remembered that unusual day in March, when +she had helped her grandfather "clean house" in his safe. But, happily +for her peace of mind, she knew too little of legal matters to connect +the burned "trash" with the fact that, somehow or other, half of the +Huntington fortune was hers. No one happened to mention any missing +document. + +Mr. Fairchild, however, was still keeping the secret of Jeanne's +possible fortune from everybody but his wife. He was cautious and wanted +to be absolutely certain. + +"I shall _burst_," declared Mrs. Fairchild, earnestly, "if I have to +keep it much longer. Think of breaking _good_ news to Jeanne--she's had +so little." + +One day, Mrs. Fairchild went alone to pay a visit to Old Captain. She +returned fairly beaming. + +"I invited him to our Christmas tree," said she. "He's willing to be +Santa Claus. Barney's coming too." + +Three days before Christmas, Jeanne obeyed a sudden impulse to call on +Old Captain. She had purchased a pipe for Barney and wanted to be sure +that it was just exactly right. Old Captain would know. It was Saturday. +Old Captain would surely be home, tidying his freight car and heating +water for his weekly shave. + +But where _was_ Old Captain? The door of the box-car was _locked_. Such +a thing had never happened before. Locked from the outside, too. There +was a brand-new padlock. + +"I guess he's doing his Christmas shopping," said Jeanne. "Or perhaps +he's _done_ it and is afraid somebody'll steal my present. I wonder if +it's a pink parasol, or some pink silk stockings. Dear Old Captain! He +thinks pink is my color, and the _pinker_ it is the better he likes it. +I do believe I'll buy him a pink necktie. But no, he'd _wear_ it. +Besides, I have that nice muffler for him. Well, it's pretty cold around +here and I'd hate to freeze to this bench, and there's no knowing when +he'll get back. Maybe Mr. Fairchild knows about pipes." + +So Jeanne trudged homeward, but not, you may be sure, without a +searching glance at the beach, where the dream-chest should have +been--but wasn't. + +"We're going to have our tree Christmas eve," said Mrs. Fairchild, that +evening, when the family sat before the cheerful grate fire that Jeanne +considered much pleasanter than a gas log. "But we won't take anything +off the tree itself until Christmas night. On Christmas eve we'll open +just the bundles we find _under_ the tree. That'll make our Christmas +last twice as long. Oh, I'm _so_ excited! Jeanne, you aren't _half_ as +young as I am. Roger, you stolid boy, you sedate old gentleman, why +don't you get up more enthusiasm?" + +"I always get all the things I want and _then_ some," said Roger, +lazily, "so why worry?" + +"You're a spoiled child," laughed Jeanne. + +Mr. Fairchild, however, seemed to wear an air of pleased expectancy, +quite different from Roger's calmness. + +"Having a daughter to liven things up," said Mr. Fairchild, "is a new +experience for us. You can see how well it agrees with us both. I hope, +Jeanne, you're giving me a pipe just like Barney's--nobody _ever_ gave +me one like that." + +"I'm awfully sorry," said Jeanne, "but I haven't the price. That pipe +cost sixty-nine cents, and I haven't that much in all the world. You'll +have to wait till my kindergarten salary begins." + +Mr. Fairchild looked at his wife, touched his breast pocket where a +paper rustled, threw back his head, and _roared_. + +"How perfectly delicious!" exclaimed Mrs. Fairchild. Then _her_ merry +laugh rang out. + +"What _is_ the joke?" asked Jeanne. "Can _you_ see it, Roger?" + +"No, I can't--they're just havin' fun with us. But, if eleven cents +would help you any--" + +Roger's clothes fitted so snugly that it was rather a difficult task to +extract the eleven pennies from his pocket; but he fished them out, one +by one. + +"There, as your Captain would say, 'Them's yourn.' I hope you won't be +reckless with 'em because they're all I've got--except a quarter. You +can't have that." + +"Why!" said Jeanne, who had been counting on her fingers, "this makes +just enough. I _had_ fifty-eight cents. I wonder what Uncle Charles +would have done if I'd bought _him_ a pipe. He always smoked +cigarettes--a smelly kind that I didn't like. I wouldn't have _dared_. +He'd have been polite, but he would have looked at the pipe as if--as if +it were a snail in his coffee!" + +"Oh, Jeanne!" protested Mrs. Fairchild. "What a horrid thought!" + +"_Isn't_ it? Now when can I buy that other pipe? Not tomorrow, because +of that school entertainment. That'll last until dark. Not the next day +morning---" + +"Very late the day before Christmas," decided Mrs. Fairchild, quickly, +"I'll take you downtown in the car. Then you can take your parcels to +Bessie and Lucy and invite them to the Christmas night part of the tree, +while I'm doing a few errands. Remember, Christmas _night_, not +Christmas eve." + +When the time came to do this final shopping, Jeanne was left alone to +select the pipe and to go on foot, first to Lucy's, then to Bessie's. +Mrs. Fairchild was to call for her at Bessie's. + +"I may be late," said she, "but no matter how long it is, I want you to +wait for the car. It'll be dark by that time--the days are so short. You +telephoned Bessie that you were coming?" + +"Yes, she'll surely be home." + +"Then that's all right. Be sure to wait for the car. Good-by, dear. Have +a good time." + +Jeanne paused for a moment to gaze thoughtfully after the departing +lady. + +"She looks nice, she sounds nice, and she _is_ nice," said Jeanne. "I +suppose Aunt Agatha had to stay the way she was made, but as long as +there's so _much_ of her, it seems a pity they left out such a lot. +Perhaps they make folks the way they do plum puddings and don't always +get the fruit in _even_. Maybe they forgot Aunt Agatha's raisins and +most of the sugar and put extra ones in Mrs. Fairchild. Maybe I ought to +try to like Aunt Agatha better--I'm glad I made her a needle-book, +anyway, if it happens that she isn't to blame for _not_ having any +raisins. But it's nice not to have to _try_ to like Mrs. Fairchild. I'd +have to try _not_ to." + +The shops were very Christmas-y and all the shoppers seemed excited and +happy and busy. There were parcels under all the arms or else there were +baskets filled with Christmas dinners. Jeanne loved it all--the +Christmas feel in the air, the Christmas shine in the faces. +Unconsciously, she loitered along the busy street after the pipe was +purchased, thinking all sorts of quaint thoughts. + +"If my father and my grandfather are in the same part of heaven," said +she, "I'm sure they must be friends by now, because they both loved +me--and my mother. They'd have _lots_ of things to talk about. Perhaps +they can see me now. Perhaps they're glad that my heart is full of +Christmas. I _know_ they must be thankful for Mrs. Fairchild. But if +Mollie can see _her_ children--Oh, I _hope_ Mrs. Fairchild got their +box off in time. And I do hope that new aunt has _some_ Christmas in her +heart. All these people with bundles are just _shining_ with Christmas." + +Jeanne, of course, was far from suspecting that her own bright little +face was so radiant with the holiday spirit that many a person paused +for a second glance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE PINK PRESENT + + +Although Jeanne loitered outside shop windows and kept a sharp lookout +for Old Captain, who _might_ be shopping for pink parasols, although she +lingered at Lucy's and stayed and stayed and _stayed_ at Bessie's, it +seemed as if it were taking Mrs. Fairchild a very great while to come +with the promised car. It was that lady's husband who came with it +finally. + +"Come on, Sister," said he, when Jeanne appeared on the doorstep. "That +other child is still finding things to put on that tree." + +"Roger?" asked Jeanne. + +"No, indeed. Mrs. Fairchild--_she's_ our youngest, these days. So I had +to come for you. Hop in--it's pretty cold for the engine. Did you buy +that pipe? Good! We'll stop for some tobacco--shall I get you some for +Barney? He's coming to the tree, too, is he? That's good. If his pipe +draws better than mine I'll take it away from him. Now, you cuddle under +the rugs and I'll stop for the 'baccy." + +There were other errands after that. In spite of Mr. Fairchild's +cheerful conversation concerning these various errands, it seemed to +Jeanne that the fastest little car in Bancroft was very slow about +getting home that evening. They arrived _just_ in time for dinner. + +Mrs. Fairchild met them at the front door. + +"Don't waste a minute," said she, fairly dragging them inside. "Dinner's +on the table. Your soup's getting cold. You can wash your hands in the +downstairs lavatory, Jeanne--no time to go upstairs." + +"Mother's so excited that her hair's coming down," observed Roger, at +the table. "And she's so mysterious that I shouldn't be a bit surprised +if she had a young elephant or a full-grown horse hidden upstairs in the +spare-room closet. Look at her eyes." + +"I feel," confessed Mrs. Fairchild, who had never looked prettier than +she did at that moment, "as if I were jumping right out of my skin. +_Did_ I eat my soup! Or did Mary take it away?" + +Roger roared. + +"Oh, Mumsey!" he said. "You're younger than I was at _three_. If you had +_two_ girls to fix a tree for, you'd starve. You haven't touched your +steak--what _is_ that noise? This house is full of strange sounds--as if +Santa Claus were stuck fast in our chimney. Shall I--" + +Mrs. Fairchild hopped up, ran to the front hall, and slipped a record +into the phonograph. A _noisy_ record and the machine wide open. + +"Why, Mumsey!" said Roger, as the clattering music filled the room, "I +thought you hated that record." + +"I didn't look," said Mrs. Fairchild, "to see what it was; but I'll +admit taking it from the noisy pile." + +A few moments later, Roger pushed his chair back. + +"Please excuse me," said he. "I don't like the dessert we're going to +have tonight." + +"No, _please_ sit still," pleaded his mother, hastily. "Put on another +record--that nice brass-band one on top of the pile--and then come back +to your place." + +"I see," laughed Roger, "you're trying to drown the noises my giraffe is +making upstairs." + +He obeyed, however, and presently everybody's tapioca pudding was eaten. + +"Now, good people," said Mrs. Fairchild, rising from her chair, "I'm +going to slip into the parlor for one moment to switch on the lights and +to make sure that--wait here, everybody, until I come for you." + +"Of all the kids," declared Roger, "my mother's the _kiddiest_ one." + +"It's my first _merry_ Christmas," said Jeanne. "_That's_ why. She's +just excited over _me_ and my first tree." + +"_Now_ come," said Mrs. Fairchild, appearing in the parlor doorway. "You +first, Jeanne." + +With Mrs. Fairchild's fingers over her eyes, Jeanne was propelled across +the hall into the big, best room. + +"Now _look_!" said Mrs. Fairchild, stepping back. + +Jeanne looked. The tall tree was ablaze with electric lights and +glittering ornaments. Captain Blossom stood at one side of it, and +Barney at the other. Both were grinning broadly. + +Jeanne's dazzled eyes traveled from the top of the tree to the beaming +faces beside it; and then to a point not very far above the floor, where +the light shimmered upon three balls of reddish, carroty gold--and three +pairs of bright, expectant eyes. + +"_Sammy_!" shrieked Jeanne, darting forward. "_Annie! Patsy_! Are you +_real_? Oh, you darling babies!" + +It was true. There they were, dirty, ragged and rather frightened, +especially Patsy, who couldn't understand what was happening. + +"Captain Blossom and Barney have been keeping them quiet in the attic," +explained Mrs. Fairchild. "The Captain went to St. Louis to get them +and got to Bancroft with them this morning. They've been fed, but that's +all. They haven't even had a bath. I wanted you to have the pleasure of +doing _everything_. Annie is to sleep with you and the two boys are to +have the nursery. There are night-dresses for them and a little +underwear, but you are to have the fun of buying all the rest. There are +toys under the spare-room bed and your box for them is there too. That's +why we are having _two_ celebrations. I _couldn't_ keep those children +hidden a moment longer. How do you like your presents?" + +Jeanne, her arms full of children, turned slowly to face the Fairchilds. +Tears were sparkling on her eyelashes, but her eyes were big and bright. + +"_Oh_!" she said. + +"You have also a little gift from your grandfather," said Mr. Fairchild, +showing Jeanne a folded paper and then returning it to his pocket for +safe-keeping. "I'll read this to you sometime when you're not so busy. +I just wanted you to know that your grandfather has left you enough +money to buy _two_ Cinder Ponds, build a small orphan asylum, and feed +and educate at least half a dozen small children." + +"_Oh_!" said Jeanne, using the only word she seemed to have left. + +"Santa Claus seems to be making up for lost time," said Roger, who had +caught his mother wiping away happy tears and had feared for one +dreadful moment that he himself was going to shed a couple. "He never +gave _me_ three children and a fortune all at one whack. And what I +heard upstairs wasn't even a goat." + +"Never mind," said Jeanne, with her little twisty smile, "I'll _buy_ you +one." + +Then she went swiftly to Mrs. Fairchild, put her arms about that little +lady's waist, and laid her cheek against hers. + +"_You_ are my nicest Christmas present," she said. "I just love you." + + +THE END + + + + +A MONTH LATER + + +Did you ever read the words "The End" and then turn over the pages at +the back of the book to see if there wasn't just the least scrap more +hidden _somewhere_? This time there is. + +Everybody knows that you are quite clever enough to guess everything +that happened afterwards to Jeanne and her family; but Old Captain wants +you to know for certain that Annie was perfectly sweet and lovely in her +new clothes, that Sammy was so bright and attractive in his that the +first-grade teacher just loved him and gave him a splendid start along +the road to knowledge; and that Patsy proved so good and so charming in +every way that Mrs. Fairchild fairly adored him. + +And this is + + +THE VERY END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Cinder Pond, by Carroll Watson Rankin + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36119 *** |