"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 n.o.body 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 appet.i.te."

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 a.s.sure 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," a.s.sured 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 pa.s.sengers 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 pa.s.senger 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 pa.s.sed 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. n.o.body home at Old Captain's; but it was much too pleasant a day for a fisherman to stay ash.o.r.e. 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 gra.s.sy 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 n.o.body 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.