The old man looked at the bright colors, and felt of the soft wool, and then his eyes rested fondly upon his grandchild, who was scattering sugar-plums among the little group without the gate. Eagerly they gathered them up in their greedy hands, and went scampering off to their homes to exhibit their treasures, while Carrie went to the house accompanied by her proud father, on whose arm the old gentleman was feebly leaning. That evening, as the newly-returned party was seated around the center-table, Carrie stole quietly to her grandfather's room, and leaning her elbows upon his knees, looked wonderingly up into his mild eyes, while he muttered softly, "Dear little Jennie! dear little Jennie!"
CHAPTER XVII.
Rosalie came betimes to see her young friend, and as they walked together around the garden, they had much to say about the long journey, and the many strange things that Carrie had seen and heard, and then they came back again to home events, and to the school that Rosalie had just left, and that Carrie would soon enter, and this led them to speak of Jennie, who was to be Carrie's roommate.
"Has she no other name?" said Carrie to Rosalie; "I hear nothing but 'Jennie, Jennie,' all the time."
"Oh! her mother's name is Dunmore—that is, her adopted mother. Her own mother is dead; but isn't it strange, I never thought to ask her what her real name is! You can not help loving her, Carrie, I know. In the first place, she's beautiful, and that goes for something, I think; and then, she's as good as she is pretty. Why, Carrie, I do believe you are a little like her! There, throw your hat back, and let your hair fall about your shoulders, so—'tis strange! I should think you were sisters."
"Well, well, Rosalie, I should like to put my hat on when you have done admiring me; I suppose I shall see this paragon of a Jennie on Monday, if I live."
"She will not seem a paragon to you, Carrie, but a simple, loving, truthful girl, and before you know it, you'll have your arm around her neck and your lips to hers as if you had been friends all your life."
"What do you think of Madame La Blanche, Rosalie? Shall I be much afraid of her?"
"Afraid of her! Why, Carrie, she's as kind as my own mother, and many a time, when the girls are sad or home-sick, she sends for them to go to her pleasant room, and there she amuses them with pictures and curiosities until they forget all their sorrows. She doesn't seem like a school-teacher, Carrie, but like some dear affectionate relative."