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 doc.u.ments 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 sc.r.a.p? 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 sc.r.a.p," 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, n.o.body 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 embarra.s.sment and very close to tears.