"The clothes I left behind me," returned Jeanne, who had flushed and then paled at sight of her belongings. "I guess--I guess Aunt Agatha doesn't want me to go back." Jeanne didn't _want_ to go back; yet it seemed rather appalling to learn so conclusively that she wasn't expected. Her lips began to quiver, ominously. "I'm glad she doesn't," said Mrs. Fairchild, with an arm about Jeanne. "I want you myself. I couldn't _think_ of losing you now. You see, I wrote to her and told her that you were to visit me; and about your father. I suppose this is her reply--it isn't exactly a gracious one." "I'm afraid I've outgrown some of the things, but this party dress was always too long and the petticoats have big tucks in them." "Perhaps we can send whatever proves too small to Annie." "They'd be too big, for a year or two; but I'd like to keep them for her. I'm glad of my books, anyway, and daddy's letters--they're safe in this writing-paper box." Suddenly Mrs. Fairchild began to laugh softly. Jeanne looked at her in amazement. Jeanne herself had been rather close to tears. "I feel," said Mrs. Fairchild, "as if I'd been unexpectedly slapped in the face. I wrote Mrs. Huntington such a _nice_ letter. And now this box--_hurled_ at little you." "Aunt Agatha always makes people feel slapped," assured Jeanne, brightening. "Then I'm gladder than ever that she doesn't want you. I was horribly afraid she might." Shortly after this, Old Captain, who had sent the news of Mollie's death to St. Louis, received a letter from Mollie's brother. Captain Blossom toiled up the hill to show it to Jeanne. Things were going badly in John Shannon's family. Work was slack and old Mrs. Shannon was a great trial to her daughter-in-law, who was not very well. The children, too, were very troublesome. Their new aunt, it seemed, had no patience with "brats." They had all been sick with mumps, measles, and whooping cough and would, just as like as not, come down with scarlet fever and chicken pox. Both Sammy and Patsy seemed to be sickly, anyway. "You see," explained Old Captain, "them children didn't have no chance to catch nothin' in Bancroft--out on that there old dock where nobody ever come with them there germs. No wonder they're sick, with all them germs gettin' 'em to onct." Altogether, it was a _very_ depressing letter. It confirmed all Jeanne's fears and presented her with several new ones. "They don't even go to school," sighed Jeanne. "But oh, I wish they had a nice aunt. There must be _some_ nice aunts in the world; but I'm sure _she_ isn't a nice one."