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."