"Then stay you do. But before real cold weather comes we gotta fix up some place ashore for you, where there's somebody to keep a good fire goin'. Maybe me and Barney can build on an addition behind this here car—say two good rooms with a door through from here. But there's no need to worry for a good while yet. We're cozy enough for the present and October's sure to be pleasant—allus is. About school, now. I guess you'd better start next Monday. Whatever damage there is, for books or anything else, I'll stand it. An' if there was music lessons, now—"
Jeanne made a face. Old Captain chuckled.
"Maybe," said he, "there wouldn't be time for that."
"I'm sure there wouldn't," agreed Jeanne.
On Saturday, Jeanne went up town to buy food. But first she visited the five-and-ten-cent store to buy an egg-beater. Just outside, she came face to face with Roger Fairchild—and his mother.
Jeanne, an impish light in her black eyes (she was only sorry that she wasn't carrying one of Mrs. Schmidt's outrageous bouquets), stopped square in front of the stout boy and said:
"Did you spoil your clothes?"
As before, Roger turned several shades of crimson. Jeanne did not look almost fourteen, for she was still rather small for her years.
"Did you?" persisted his tormenter.
"Yes, I did," growled Roger. "Hurry on, Mother. I gotta get a haircut as soon as we've had that ice cream."