The Cinder Pond Part 9

"I'm glad I'm not a princess," said Michael. "Botherin' all the time with blue ribbons. Didn't she wear no crown?"

"_Any_ crown. No, she had just a little dark blue hat the very color of her dress, some brown gloves and oh! the _smoothest_ shoes. They fitted her feet just like skin and she had stockings--"

"Aw, cut out her clothes," said Michael. "What did she _eat_?"

School had started. Jeanne knew it because on her last trip to the library she had met a long procession of boys and girls hurrying homeward; chattering as only school children can chatter. But still Mr.

Duval had said nothing to Jeannette about _going_ to school. The home lessons went on as usual, and the wondering pupil hoped fervently that she was not outgrowing that hidden wardrobe. _That_ would be too dreadful.

The following Sat.u.r.day evening, Mr. Duval shopped again. This time, he went alone; returning with more bundles. These, too, were concealed. The wharf afforded many a convenient hiding place under its old planks; and this time, even Jeanne failed to suspect that anything unusual had happened during the evening. There were never any lessons Sat.u.r.day night; and this particular evening she had been glad of the extra time.

She was finis.h.i.+ng the extra dress she had started for Annie, the red and white striped calico. Mollie was in bed and asleep, Mrs. Shannon was dozing over the stove, Jeanne sat close to the lamp, pus.h.i.+ng her needle through the stiff cloth.

"There!" breathed Jeanne, thankfully. "The last b.u.t.ton's on. Tomorrow I'll dress Annie up and take her to call on Old Captain. He'll like her because she'll look so much like the American flag."

CHAPTER IX

THE FLIGHT

Tuesday had been a wonderful day. Never had the lake or the sky seemed so softly blue, the air so pleasant or the green bushes so nearly like real trees. The two boys had been good all day and Annie and Patsy had been _sweet_. There had been a late wild rose on the bush near Old Captain's freight car--a deep rose streaked with crimson. The Captain, heavy and clumsy, had scrambled up the bank to pluck it for Jeannette, who had placed it carefully in a green gla.s.s bottle on her father's little table.

Her lesson the night before had been a queer one. Her father had taught her how to dress herself in the new garments. Also, he had given her an obviously new brush and comb, and had compelled her to use them to reduce her almost-curly hair to a state of unaccustomed order. That had taken a _very_ long time, because, when you have been using a very old brush and an almost toothless comb your hair does get snarled in spite of you.

Her lessons were getting so queer, in fact, that she couldn't help wondering what would come next. What came was the queerest thing of all.

The rose in the green gla.s.s bottle on her father's table filled the little room with fragrance. Again the door was fastened and the lid of the trunk cautiously lifted.

"Fix your hair as you did last night," directed Mr. Duval, in an odd, rather choked voice. "Put on your clothes, just as you did last night.

Be very quiet about it. You were in the Pond today?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good! Then you are clean. I will wait outside until you are dressed."

"Are we going some place, Daddy?"

"Yes," replied her father, who had taken a parcel from the box on which he usually sat. "Dress quickly, but neatly, and put on your hat. Put the gloves in your pocket. Then sit quietly here until I come for you."

Eyes s.h.i.+ning, pulses leaping, Jeannette got into her new garments. But where were the extra ones that had been in the trunk? The two frilly night-dresses, the other chemise, the other petticoat, the extra stockings? Never mind. Her father, she was sure, had taken good care of them.

"There! my hair's going better _this_ time. And my feet feel more at home in these shoes. And oh! My white, white petticoat--how _nice_ you are! I _never_ had truly _white_ things. I suppose a real princess has heaps and heaps of them."

Mr. Duval had neglected to supply stocking-straps. It is quite possible that he didn't know that little girls' stockings were fastened that way.

Motherless Jeanne certainly didn't. Mollie's were never fastened at all.

Old Mrs. Shannon tied _hers_ with a string. Jeannette found two bits of raveled rope, hanging from a nail. They, she thought, would answer the purpose.

"It's only for this evening," said Jeanne, eying with dissatisfaction the bits of frayed rope. "I'll find something better tomorrow--some nice pieces of pink calico like my dress, maybe."

Next she got into the pretty sailor suit and smoothed it into place.

Then the good little dark blue hat was put on very carefully. Last of all, Jeanne lifted down the small, cheap mirror that hung on the rough wall.

"I certainly do look _nice_," said she. "I think Elizabeth Huntington would like me."

Most anybody would have thought the same thing. Certainly her father did when, a moment later, he opened the door.

"Turn out the light," said he. "It is time to start."

Hand-in-hand the pair stole silently along the pier to the low place where Roger Fairchild had climbed out of the lake. Here a small boat awaited them. In it were two rectangular objects that Jeanne did not recognize. They were piled one on top of the other, and the little girl was to sit on them. Blus.h.i.+ng Barney Turcott had the oars. Evidently he was to do the rowing. Duval climbed in and took the rudder strings.

They were some distance from the dock, with the boat headed toward the twinkling lights of Bancroft, before anybody said a word. After that, while the men talked of fish, of nets, and of prices, Jeanne's investigating fingers stole over the surface of the objects on which she sat, until finally she discovered handles and straps. They were suitcases! People coming out of the Bancroft station sometimes carried them. Was it possible that she was to ride on a train or on one of the big lake steamers that came four times a week to the big dock across the Bay in the harbor of Bancroft? She who had never ridden in much of anything! Where _could_ she be going?

When they disembarked near the foot of Main Street, Mr. Duval handed a letter to Barney Turcott.

"Please hand this to Mrs. Duval tomorrow morning," said he.

Barney nodded. Then, for once, he talked.

"Pleasant journey, sir," said he. "Good-by, Jeanne. I suppose--"

"Good-by," said Mr. Duval, taking the suitcases. "Come, Jeanne, we must hurry."

Jeanne wondered what Barney had supposed.

"I have our tickets," said Mr. Duval, as the pair entered the station; Jeanne blinking at the lights like a little owl. "Come this way. Our train is over here."

"Lower five and six," said he, to the colored man who stood beside the train. Jeanne wondered if the colored gentleman owned it; she would ask her father later.

Then they were inside. Her eyes having become accustomed to the light, Jeanne was using them. She didn't know which was the more astonis.h.i.+ng, the inside of the coach or her father.

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."

"I'm glad to hear it," said he, his eyes very bright and s.h.i.+ning.

"Before I came to Bancroft I was dressed every day like this--like a gentleman. So you like me this way, eh?"

"That way and _any_ way," she said. "But, Father. Where are we going?"

"You will sleep better if I tell you nothing tonight. Don't worry--that's all."

"But, Daddy, are we going to _sleep_ here? I don't see any beds."

Presently, however, the porter began pulling beds right out of the air, or so it seemed to Jeanne. Some came down out of the ceiling, some came up out of the floor--and there you were, surrounded by beds! Oh, what a fairy story to tell the children!

A few whispered instructions and Jeanne knew how to prepare for bed, and how to get up in the morning. Also what to do with her clothes.

"We change in Chicago in the morning," added her father; "so you must hop up quickly when I call you."