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