Presently Old Captain returned with Jeanne's suitcase. With him was a breathless boy who had found it difficult to keep up with the Captain's long stride. The boy's basket contained bread, butter, eggs, and a piece of round steak. Also there was a bundle containing a brand-new sheet and pillow-case. "Them thar's a present for _you_," explained Old Captain. "They was somethin' the matter with the towels--had _glue_ in 'em, I guess. Stiff as a board, anyhow. But your paw left some in his room--" "Where _is_ my--" "Now, I'm _cookin'_," returned Old Captain, hastily. "_When_ I'm cookin', I ain't answerin' no questions. I'm _askin'_ 'em. You can tell me how you got here and what started ye--I'm dyin' to hear all about it. But you can't ask no questions. And just remember this. I'm darn glad--hum--_real_ glad you come. This here's a lonesome place with no children runnin' 'round; and I'm mighty glad to hear somethin' twitterin' besides them swallows, so just twitter away. First of all, who brung you?" In spite of her dismay at Mollie's illness, in spite of her keen disappointment regarding the missing children, in spite of her bewilderment and her growing fear concerning her strangely absent father, Jeanne was conscious of a warm glow of happiness. Even if _everybody_ had been gone, the Cinder Pond, more beautiful than ever, would still have been _home_. But Old Captain's hearty welcome, and, more than all, the kindliness that seemed to radiate from his broad, ruddy face, seemed to enfold her like a warm, woolly bathrobe. The Captain was rough and uncultured; but you couldn't look at him without knowing that he was _good_. Supper was a bit late that night. Jeanne, very neat in her brown poplin dress, Old Captain, very comfortable in his faded shirt-sleeves, ate it by lamplight at the Captain's small, square table. Truly an oddly contrasted pair. But in spite of the fact that the Captain's heart was much better than his table manners, Jeanne was able to eat enough for _two_ small girls. After supper, the Captain lighted a big lantern, collected his tools, and trudged down the cindery road to the Duval corner of the old wharf. Presently Jeanne, who was clearing away after the meal, heard the sound of hammering and the "squawk" of nails being pulled from wood--noises travel far, over water that is quiet. When she had washed and dried the dishes, she followed Old Captain. "Thought ye'd come, too, did ye! Well, she's all opened up. You'd best take your father's room--for tonight, anyway. It ain't been disturbed since--hum! The blankets is all right, I guess. There's a bolt on the door--better lock yourself in. Few boats ever touches here, but one _might_ come. I'd hate like thunder to have ye kidnapped--wouldn't want to lose ye so soon. Did you bring along that sheet? Good. I'll leave you the lamp while I fixes up a bunk in Mollie's part of the house for my old bones."