Right after that the listening Captain heard the sound of tearing paper. A moment later, Jeanne was in the doorway--a loaf of bread in one hand, a basket of peaches in the other. Her face was tear-stained, but her eyes were brave. She even smiled a little, twisty smile--a smile that all but upset Old Captain. "There's some rolls, too," she said, in rather a shaky voice. "Take these and I'll bring you the tablecloth. After this, I'm going to be the supper cook. I planned it all out this morning." Jeanne, brave little soul that she was, was back among the everyday things of life. The greatly relieved Captain beamed at the shining white tablecloth and the cheap, plated silver. He picked up one of the new knives and viewed it admiringly. "I ain't et with a shiny knife like this since I was keepin' bachelor's hall," said he. "I'll just admire eatin' fried potatoes with this here knife." The Captain was very sociable that evening. He had to see the contents of all the parcels, and expressed great admiration for the checked gingham that was to be made into a big apron. Once, he disappeared to rummage about in the dark, further end of the long car. Presently he returned with a rusty tin box. "This here," said he, "is my bank." He opened it. It was filled with money. "You see," said he, "when you earns more than you spends, the stuff piles up. Now here's a nice empty can. We'll set it, inconspicuous-like, in this here corner of the cupboard. Any time you wants any money for anything--clothes or food or anything at all--you look in this can. There'll be some thar. You see, you're _my_ little girl, just now. The rest'll be put away safe--you can forgit about _that_. Was that there a yawn? Gettin' sleepy, are you? Well, well, where's the lantern?" At the door of the Duval shack, Jeanne stumbled over something--a large basket with the cover fastened down tight. Jeanne carried it inside and lifted the cover. It contained four small kittens and a bottle of milk. A card hung from the neck of the bottle. On it was printed: "We got no Mother. From BARNEY." "Drat him," said the Captain, "them kittens'll keep you awake." "Not if I feed them," returned Jeanne. "Of course I shall still love Bayard Taylor, but after all, kittens are a lot more cuddle-y than snails. I'm so glad Barney thought of them. They're _dear_--such a pretty silvery gray with white under their chins. I do hope they'll find me a nice mother." By the time the kittens were fed and asleep, Jeanne, who had certainly spent an exhausting day, was no longer able to keep her eyes open. CHAPTER XXII ROGER'S RAZOR