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.