"It's only for this evening," said Jeanne, eying with dissatisfaction the bits of frayed rope. "I'll find something better tomorrow—some nice pieces of pink calico like my dress, maybe."
Next she got into the pretty sailor suit and smoothed it into place. Then the good little dark blue hat was put on very carefully. Last of all, Jeanne lifted down the small, cheap mirror that hung on the rough wall.
"I certainly do look nice," said she. "I think Elizabeth Huntington would like me."
Most anybody would have thought the same thing. Certainly her father did when, a moment later, he opened the door.
"Turn out the light," said he. "It is time to start."
Hand-in-hand the pair stole silently along the pier to the low place where Roger Fairchild had climbed out of the lake. Here a small boat awaited them. In it were two rectangular objects that Jeanne did not recognize. They were piled one on top of the other, and the little girl was to sit on them. Blushing Barney Turcott had the oars. Evidently he was to do the rowing. Duval climbed in and took the rudder strings.
They were some distance from the dock, with the boat headed toward the twinkling lights of Bancroft, before anybody said a word. After that, while the men talked of fish, of nets, and of prices, Jeanne's investigating fingers stole over the surface of the objects on which she sat, until finally she discovered handles and straps. They were suitcases! People coming out of the Bancroft station sometimes carried them. Was it possible that she was to ride on a train or on one of the big lake steamers that came four times a week to the big dock across the Bay in the harbor of Bancroft? She who had never ridden in much of anything! Where could she be going?
When they disembarked near the foot of Main Street, Mr. Duval handed a letter to Barney Turcott.
"Please hand this to Mrs. Duval tomorrow morning," said he.
Barney nodded. Then, for once, he talked.