It was true. There they were, dirty, ragged and rather frightened, especially Patsy, who couldn't understand what was happening.
"Captain Blossom and Barney have been keeping them quiet in the attic," explained Mrs. Fairchild. "The Captain went to St. Louis to get them and got to Bancroft with them this morning. They've been fed, but that's all. They haven't even had a bath. I wanted you to have the pleasure of doing everything. Annie is to sleep with you and the two boys are to have the nursery. There are night-dresses for them and a little underwear, but you are to have the fun of buying all the rest. There are toys under the spare-room bed and your box for them is there too. That's why we are having two celebrations. I couldn't keep those children hidden a moment longer. How do you like your presents?"
Jeanne, her arms full of children, turned slowly to face the Fairchilds. Tears were sparkling on her eyelashes, but her eyes were big and bright.
"Oh!" she said.
"You have also a little gift from your grandfather," said Mr. Fairchild, showing Jeanne a folded paper and then returning it to his pocket for safe-keeping. "I'll read this to you sometime when you're not so busy. I just wanted you to know that your grandfather has left you enough money to buy two Cinder Ponds, build a small orphan asylum, and feed and educate at least half a dozen small children."
"Oh!" said Jeanne, using the only word she seemed to have left.
"Santa Claus seems to be making up for lost time," said Roger, who had caught his mother wiping away happy tears and had feared for one dreadful moment that he himself was going to shed a couple. "He never gave me three children and a fortune all at one whack. And what I heard upstairs wasn't even a goat."
"Never mind," said Jeanne, with her little twisty smile, "I'll buy you one."
Then she went swiftly to Mrs. Fairchild, put her arms about that little lady's waist, and laid her cheek against hers.
"You are my nicest Christmas present," she said. "I just love you."