"Do they know about me?" asked Jeanne.
"They knew that you were living at the time of your mother's death. I want them to see you. If they like you, it will be a very good thing for you. It is, I think, the only way that I can give you what your mother would have wanted you to have; the right surroundings, the proper friends, education, accomplishments. You are nearly twelve and you have had nothing. If anything were to happen to me, I should want you with your mother's people rather than with Mollie. This—visit will—help you, I think."
"Shall I like my grandfather? And my uncle? I've never had any of those, you know."
"I hope so."
"But not as well as you, Daddy, not half as well—"
"We won't talk about it any more just now, if you please. See that load of ripe tomatoes—a big wagon heaped to the top. We don't have such splendid fruit in our cold climate. See, there is a farm. Perhaps they came from there. Such big barns and comfortable houses."
"Daddy," said Jeanne, "what does a lady do when her stocking keeps coming down and coming down? This morning I broke the rope—"
"The rope!" exclaimed astonished Mr. Duval.
Jeanne hitched up her skirt to display the remaining wisp of rope.
"Like that," she said.