"This is a beautiful spot in summer," said Mrs. Fairchild, when she had the whole story, "but it is no place for a girl in winter. The minute cold weather comes, unless your people have already sent for you, I am going to carry you off to visit me. Of course, if you didn't happen to like us, you wouldn't have to stay; but I do want you to try us. _You_ know who Mr. Fairchild is, Captain Blossom--the lawyer, you know--so you see you can trust us with her. At any rate, my dear, you can stay with me until your people send for you. You see, neither Mr. Fairchild nor I will be able to rest until we've had a chance to know you better and to thank you--to _really_ thank you. I'm _very_ grateful to you. Roger's our only child; you saved him for us. I've had you on my conscience for more than two years. You _will_ come, won't you?" "If I could think about it just a little," said Jeanne, shyly. "You must persuade her, Captain Blossom. You _know_ she'd be better off with me--so much nearer school and other nice girls of her own age. I shall simply love to have her--I'm fond of her already." Mrs. Fairchild was a pretty little woman, impulsive, kind-hearted, and very loyal in her friendships. One had only to look at her to know that she was good. Not a very wise woman, perhaps; but a very kind one. Her son Roger--she had lost her first two babies--was undoubtedly rather badly spoiled. Had her other children lived, Roger would certainly have been more severely disciplined. "I'm coming tomorrow afternoon," said she, at parting, "to take this little girl for a ride." "That'll be lovely," returned Jeanne. After that, Mrs. Fairchild made a point of borrowing Jeanne frequently. Her comfortable little open car often stopped in the road above the Captain's old freight car to honk loudly for Jeanne, and she often carried the Cinder Pond child home with her, and kept her to meals. Mrs. Fairchild was the nearest approach to a girl companion that Jeanne had ever had. Jeanne _liked_ the pretty, fair-haired lady, who was so delightfully young for her thirty-seven years. She also liked Mr. Fairchild child, whose clothes were quite as good as those of her Uncle Charles, while his manners were certainly better--at any rate, far more cordial. "I'm crazy about dolls," confessed Mrs. Fairchild, one day, when she had Jeanne beside her in the little car. "I've promised to dress a whole dozen for the church guild. I want you to help me buy them right now. Won't that be fun? And we'll dress them together. You shall choose the dresses for six of them. Isn't it a shame I never had any little girls of my own?" Of course sympathetic Mrs. Fairchild heard all about Sammy, Annie, and Patsy, and how disappointed Jeanne had been to find them missing.