A great big lump in her throat and suddenly the lake became so misty
that she couldn't see it.
"What a goose-y thing to do," said surprised Jeanne, wiping away the
fog; "when I'm _glad_ all the way to my heels. I didn't believe folks
really cried for joy; but I guess they do. I wonder where those children
are. They ought to be catching pollywogs, but they aren't. And here are
flowers just asking to be picked--Annie must be getting lazy. Why
doesn't somebody see me and come _running_? And why isn't Mollie sitting
outside the door in the sun? Why! How queer the house looks--sort of
shut up."
By this time, Jeanne was almost at the end of the dock and her heart was
beating fast. The house _was_ shut up; not only that but _boarded_ up,
from the outside. It was certainly very strange and disconcerting.
Puzzled Jeanne seated herself on an old keg and reflectively eyed her
deserted home.
"They've _moved_," she decided. "They've rented a house somewhere in
town so Michael and Sammy can go to school. It's probably more
comfortable, but I know the yard isn't half so beautiful. By and by,
when I can stop looking at the lake, I'll find something to eat in Old
Captain's house. I'm just about starved. I'll have to wait until he
comes home to find out about everybody? I _wonder_ why nobody told me."
It was five o'clock when Barney's boat touched at the dock. Old Captain
climbed out. Barney followed. Together they picked their way along the
crumbling wharf. Something brown--a _warm_ brown that caught the glow
from the afternoon sun--was curled on Captain Blossom's doorstep. When
you've traveled for two nights and spent a long day outdoors on a breezy
wharf, exploring all the haunts of your childhood, sleep comes easily.
There was Jeanne, her head on her elbow, sound asleep.
Barney took one good look at the small, brunette face; and then, as if
all the bad dreams he had _ever_ had, had gotten after him at once, fled
up the steep bank behind Old Captain's car and was gone. The Captain,
when he had recognized his sleeping visitor, looked as if he, too, would
have been glad to flee.
"So, so," he muttered, helplessly wringing his big hands. "Darned if
I--hum, ladies present--dinged if I know what to do."
Suddenly Jeanne sat up and looked at him. Next she had flown at him and
had kissed both of his broad red cheeks.
"Well!" she exclaimed. "It's _time_ you were coming home. Where is my
father? Where's _everybody_?"
"Well, you see," said Old Captain, patting her gently, "they
ain't--well, they ain't exactly _here_."
"I can _see_ that," returned Jeanne, exasperated by the Captain's
remarkable slowness, "but where _are_ they?"
"Well, now, Jeannie girl, maybe your father wrote you about Mis'
Shannon's son John takin' her away to St. Louis last spring? Well, he
done it."
"Yes?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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