Jeanne made a face. Old Captain chuckled. "Maybe," said he, "there wouldn't be time for that." "I'm _sure_ there wouldn't," agreed Jeanne. On Saturday, Jeanne went up town to buy food. But first she visited the five-and-ten-cent store to buy an egg-beater. Just outside, she came face to face with Roger Fairchild--and his mother. Jeanne, an impish light in her black eyes (she was only sorry that she wasn't carrying one of Mrs. Schmidt's outrageous bouquets), stopped square in front of the stout boy and said: "_Did_ you spoil your clothes?" As before, Roger turned several shades of crimson. Jeanne did not look almost fourteen, for she was still rather small for her years. "_Did_ you?" persisted his tormenter. "Yes, I did," growled Roger. "Hurry on, Mother. I gotta get a haircut as soon as we've had that ice cream." Jeanne explained the matter to Old Captain, who had heard about the accident to Roger. "He's one of the kind of boys you can _tease_," said Jeanne. "I'm afraid I _like_ to tease, just a little. He looks like sort of a baby-boy, doesn't he?" Meanwhile, the boy's mother was questioning her curiously embarrassed son. "Roger," said she, "who _was_ that pretty child and what did she mean?" "I dunno," fibbed Roger. "Yes, you _do_. _What_ clothes?" "Oh, old ones--don't bother." "I _insist_ on knowing." "Aw, what's the use--the ones that got in the lake and shrunk so I couldn't wear 'em," mumbled Roger. "Come on, here's the ice-cream place." "How did _she_ know about your clothes?" persisted Mrs. Fairchild. "Aw," growled Roger, "she was hangin' 'round." "When you fell in?" demanded Mrs. Fairchild, eagerly. "Does she know that noble girl that saved you? Does she--_does_ she, Roger?" "Oh, I s'pose so," said Roger. "How should _I_ know--come on, your ice cream'll get cold." "But, Roger--" "Say," said desperate Roger, whose chin was as smooth as his mother's, "if you ever buy me a razor, I wish you'd buy _this_ kind--here in this window. Look at it. That's a _dandy_ razor." "A razor!" gasped Mrs. Fairchild. "What in the world--" Roger gave a sigh of relief. His mother had been switched from that miserable Cinder Pond child. He chatted so freely about razors that his mother was far from guessing that he knew as little about them as she did. "Fancy you wanting a razor!" commented his astonished mother. "There's no great rush," admitted Roger, feeling his smooth cheek, "but I bet I'll get whiskers before you do." "They'll be pink, like your eyebrows," retaliated Mrs. Fairchild, "but never mind; my eyebrows grew darker and yours will." "Gee!" thought Roger, "I'm glad I thought of that razor--that was a close shave." CHAPTER XXIII A NEW FRIEND FOR JEANNE The very next day, when Old Captain and Jeanne were coming away from the hospital, they met Mrs. Fairchild going in to visit a sick friend. The impulsive little lady pounced upon Jeanne.