"She looks nice, she sounds nice, and she _is_ nice," said Jeanne. "I suppose Aunt Agatha had to stay the way she was made, but as long as there's so _much_ of her, it seems a pity they left out such a lot. Perhaps they make folks the way they do plum puddings and don't always get the fruit in _even_. Maybe they forgot Aunt Agatha's raisins and most of the sugar and put extra ones in Mrs. Fairchild. Maybe I ought to try to like Aunt Agatha better--I'm glad I made her a needle-book, anyway, if it happens that she isn't to blame for _not_ having any raisins. But it's nice not to have to _try_ to like Mrs. Fairchild. I'd have to try _not_ to." The shops were very Christmas-y and all the shoppers seemed excited and happy and busy. There were parcels under all the arms or else there were baskets filled with Christmas dinners. Jeanne loved it all--the Christmas feel in the air, the Christmas shine in the faces. Unconsciously, she loitered along the busy street after the pipe was purchased, thinking all sorts of quaint thoughts. "If my father and my grandfather are in the same part of heaven," said she, "I'm sure they must be friends by now, because they both loved me--and my mother. They'd have _lots_ of things to talk about. Perhaps they can see me now. Perhaps they're glad that my heart is full of Christmas. I _know_ they must be thankful for Mrs. Fairchild. But if Mollie can see _her_ children--Oh, I _hope_ Mrs. Fairchild got their box off in time. And I do hope that new aunt has _some_ Christmas in her heart. All these people with bundles are just _shining_ with Christmas." Jeanne, of course, was far from suspecting that her own bright little face was so radiant with the holiday spirit that many a person paused for a second glance. CHAPTER XXVII THE PINK PRESENT Although Jeanne loitered outside shop windows and kept a sharp lookout for Old Captain, who _might_ be shopping for pink parasols, although she lingered at Lucy's and stayed and stayed and _stayed_ at Bessie's, it seemed as if it were taking Mrs. Fairchild a very great while to come with the promised car. It was that lady's husband who came with it finally. "Come on, Sister," said he, when Jeanne appeared on the doorstep. "That other child is still finding things to put on that tree." "Roger?" asked Jeanne. "No, indeed. Mrs. Fairchild--_she's_ our youngest, these days. So I had to come for you. Hop in--it's pretty cold for the engine. Did you buy that pipe? Good! We'll stop for some tobacco--shall I get you some for Barney? He's coming to the tree, too, is he? That's good. If his pipe draws better than mine I'll take it away from him. Now, you cuddle under the rugs and I'll stop for the 'baccy." There were other errands after that. In spite of Mr. Fairchild's cheerful conversation concerning these various errands, it seemed to Jeanne that the fastest little car in Bancroft was very slow about getting home that evening. They arrived _just_ in time for dinner.