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.

Mrs. Fairchild met them at the front door.

"Don't waste a minute," said she, fairly dragging them inside. "Dinner's on the table. Your soup's getting cold. You can wash your hands in the downstairs lavatory, Jeanne--no time to go upstairs."

"Mother's so excited that her hair's coming down," observed Roger, at the table. "And she's so mysterious that I shouldn't be a bit surprised if she had a young elephant or a full-grown horse hidden upstairs in the spare-room closet. Look at her eyes."

"I feel," confessed Mrs. Fairchild, who had never looked prettier than she did at that moment, "as if I were jumping right out of my skin. _Did_ I eat my soup! Or did Mary take it away?"

Roger roared.

"Oh, Mumsey!" he said. "You're younger than I was at _three_. If you had _two_ girls to fix a tree for, you'd starve. You haven't touched your steak--what _is_ that noise? This house is full of strange sounds--as if Santa Claus were stuck fast in our chimney. Shall I--"

Mrs. Fairchild hopped up, ran to the front hall, and slipped a record into the phonograph. A _noisy_ record and the machine wide open.

"Why, Mumsey!" said Roger, as the clattering music filled the room, "I thought you hated that record."

"I didn't look," said Mrs. Fairchild, "to see what it was; but I'll admit taking it from the noisy pile."

A few moments later, Roger pushed his chair back.

"Please excuse me," said he. "I don't like the dessert we're going to have tonight."

"No, _please_ sit still," pleaded his mother, hastily. "Put on another record--that nice brass-band one on top of the pile--and then come back to your place."

"I see," laughed Roger, "you're trying to drown the noises my giraffe is making upstairs."

He obeyed, however, and presently everybody's tapioca pudding was eaten.

"Now, good people," said Mrs. Fairchild, rising from her chair, "I'm going to slip into the parlor for one moment to switch on the lights and to make sure that--wait here, everybody, until I come for you."

"Of all the kids," declared Roger, "my mother's the _kiddiest_ one."

"It's my first _merry_ Christmas," said Jeanne. "_That's_ why. She's just excited over _me_ and my first tree."

"_Now_ come," said Mrs. Fairchild, appearing in the parlor doorway. "You first, Jeanne."

With Mrs. Fairchild's fingers over her eyes, Jeanne was propelled across the hall into the big, best room.

"Now _look_!" said Mrs. Fairchild, stepping back.

Jeanne looked. The tall tree was ablaze with electric lights and glittering ornaments. Captain Blossom stood at one side of it, and Barney at the other. Both were grinning broadly.

Jeanne's dazzled eyes traveled from the top of the tree to the beaming faces beside it; and then to a point not very far above the floor, where the light shimmered upon three balls of reddish, carroty gold--and three pairs of bright, expectant eyes.

"_Sammy_!" shrieked Jeanne, darting forward. "_Annie! Patsy_! Are you _real_? Oh, you darling babies!"

It was true. There they were, dirty, ragged and rather frightened, especially Patsy, who couldn't understand what was happening.

"Captain Blossom and Barney have been keeping them quiet in the attic," explained Mrs. Fairchild. "The Captain went to St. Louis to get them and got to Bancroft with them this morning. They've been fed, but that's all. They haven't even had a bath. I wanted you to have the pleasure of doing _everything_. Annie is to sleep with you and the two boys are to have the nursery. There are night-dresses for them and a little underwear, but you are to have the fun of buying all the rest. There are toys under the spare-room bed and your box for them is there too. That's why we are having _two_ celebrations. I _couldn't_ keep those children hidden a moment longer. How do you like your presents?"

Jeanne, her arms full of children, turned slowly to face the Fairchilds. Tears were sparkling on her eyelashes, but her eyes were big and bright.

"_Oh_!" she said.

"You have also a little gift from your grandfather," said Mr. Fairchild, showing Jeanne a folded paper and then returning it to his pocket for safe-keeping. "I'll read this to you sometime when you're not so busy. I just wanted you to know that your grandfather has left you enough money to buy _two_ Cinder Ponds, build a small orphan asylum, and feed and educate at least half a dozen small children."

"_Oh_!" said Jeanne, using the only word she seemed to have left.

"Santa Claus seems to be making up for lost time," said Roger, who had caught his mother wiping away happy tears and had feared for one dreadful moment that he himself was going to shed a couple. "He never gave _me_ three children and a fortune all at one whack. And what I heard upstairs wasn't even a goat."

"Never mind," said Jeanne, with her little twisty smile, "I'll _buy_ you one."

Then she went swiftly to Mrs. Fairchild, put her arms about that little lady's waist, and laid her cheek against hers.

"_You_ are my nicest Christmas present," she said. "I just love you."

THE END

A MONTH LATER

Did you ever read the words "The End" and then turn over the pages at the back of the book to see if there wasn't just the least scrap more hidden _somewhere_? This time there is.

Everybody knows that you are quite clever enough to guess everything that happened afterwards to Jeanne and her family; but Old Captain wants you to know for certain that Annie was perfectly sweet and lovely in her new clothes, that Sammy was so bright and attractive in his that the first-grade teacher just loved him and gave him a splendid start along the road to knowledge; and that Patsy proved so good and so charming in every way that Mrs. Fairchild fairly adored him.

And this is

THE VERY END

End of Project Gutenberg's The Cinder Pond, by Carroll Watson Rankin