Carroll Watson Rankin

“ 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. ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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! ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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'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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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 ”

“ 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!" ”

“ 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. ”