"I'd love to," she said. "And I would, if I were going away from home. But I'm just counting the minutes. It would be just like Patsy to grow another inch while I'm on the train tonight."
"I know just how you feel," assured Mrs. Rossiter. "But perhaps, when you are on your way back, you'll be able to stay longer."
"If she doesn't get back by the time she's twenty," laughed Allen, "I'm going after her. Just remember, Jeanne, I want to be on hand when you're ready to decide about that husband. I should hate to have that iceman get ahead of me."
"All right," agreed Jeanne, cheerfully. "Just hunt me up about six years from now. If I have time to bother with any husbands at all, I think, maybe, I'd rather have you around than the iceman."
"Be sure," said Mrs. Rossiter, at parting, "to let us know when you're starting back this way."
"I will," promised Jeanne. "I've had a lovely time. Good-by, everybody, and thank you so much."
Jeanne slept soundly that night and Bayard Taylor did no extra traveling, because Allen had made a tiny cage for him from a small wooden box, with bars of very fine wire.
At Negaunee, Jeanne succeeded in lugging all her belongings safely, if not comfortably, across the platform, from one train to the other.
"Is this the train to Bancroft?" she asked.
"It is," said the brakeman, helping her aboard.