The last half-hour of the journey seemed a year long. She had had no breakfast and she was sure that Patsy had gotten up earlier than usual that morning just on purpose to grow. Never was train so slow, never had fourteen miles seemed so many. The other passengers looked as if they had settled down and meant to stay where they were for weeks; but Jeanne was much too excited to do any settling. She wanted to get off and push. But at last a beautiful voice (that is, it sounded like a beautiful voice to the impatient little traveler) shouted: "All off for Bancroft."
In spite of her weighty belongings, the first passenger off that train was Jeannette Huntington Duval. There was a parcel-room in the station at Bancroft. Jeanne checked her suitcase—Allen had told her how to do that—put her check in her other stocking for safe keeping, and then, burdened only with her work-box, set out to surprise the Duvals. Her father, she was sure, would be willing to go for the suitcase that evening. He'd surely be home by now, even if Dan McGraw had taken him for a long trip. No doubt she had passed his letter on the way. And how those children would come whooping down the dock at sight of her! The sky was blue and all Jeanne's thoughts were happy ones.
CHAPTER XX
A MISSING FAMILY
The walk was long, but at last Jeanne reached the blossoming bank, against which Old Captain's freight car rested. Nobody home at Old Captain's; but it was much too pleasant a day for a fisherman to stay ashore. One of his nets, however, hung over his queer house and his old shoes were beside his bed—the biggest, broadest shoes in all Bancroft; there was no mistaking those.
Half a dozen steps down the grassy dock and Jeanne stood stock-still. The lake! There, all big and clear and blue. And just the same—her lake!
A great big lump in her throat and suddenly the lake became so misty that she couldn't see it.
"What a goose-y thing to do," said surprised Jeanne, wiping away the fog; "when I'm glad all the way to my heels. I didn't believe folks really cried for joy; but I guess they do. I wonder where those children are. They ought to be catching pollywogs, but they aren't. And here are flowers just asking to be picked—Annie must be getting lazy. Why doesn't somebody see me and come running? And why isn't Mollie sitting outside the door in the sun? Why! How queer the house looks—sort of shut up."
By this time, Jeanne was almost at the end of the dock and her heart was beating fast. The house was shut up; not only that but boarded up, from the outside. It was certainly very strange and disconcerting.