"Then I'm gladder than ever that she doesn't want you. I was horribly afraid she might."
Shortly after this, Old Captain, who had sent the news of Mollie's death to St. Louis, received a letter from Mollie's brother. Captain Blossom toiled up the hill to show it to Jeanne.
Things were going badly in John Shannon's family. Work was slack and old Mrs. Shannon was a great trial to her daughter-in-law, who was not very well. The children, too, were very troublesome. Their new aunt, it seemed, had no patience with "brats." They had all been sick with mumps, measles, and whooping cough and would, just as like as not, come down with scarlet fever and chicken pox. Both Sammy and Patsy seemed to be sickly, anyway.
"You see," explained Old Captain, "them children didn't have no chance to catch nothin' in Bancroft—out on that there old dock where nobody ever come with them there germs. No wonder they're sick, with all them germs gettin' 'em to onct."
Altogether, it was a very depressing letter. It confirmed all Jeanne's fears and presented her with several new ones.
"They don't even go to school," sighed Jeanne. "But oh, I wish they had a nice aunt. There must be some nice aunts in the world; but I'm sure she isn't a nice one."
"I guess poor John picked the wrong woman," said Old Captain, shrewdly. "There's some that's kind to other people's children and some that ain't. John seemed a kind sort of chap, himself; but if his wife wan't a natural-born mother, with real mother feelin's, why all John's kindness couldn't make up for her cussedness, if she felt to be cussed. It's too bad, too bad. They was good little shavers. That there Sammy, now. I'd take him, myself."
"Oh," pleaded Jeanne, "I wish you'd take them all."
Old Captain shook his head. "My heart's big enough," he said, "but my freight car ain't."
"But the dock is," said Jeanne. "And there's the shack—"