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.