The Cinder Pond Part 8

That night, Jeanne asked her father to try on the old coat, in order that she might compare it with those she had seen. He slipped it on and turned so that she might view it from all sides.

"I'm afraid, Daddy," said she, sorrowfully, "that none of the _best_ coats are quite like yours. You have _more_ seams, closer together and not so straight. And your tails are longer. And you fold back differently in front."

"I feared so," said Mr. Duval. "This coat was not new when I laid it away and the styles have changed perhaps more than I suspected."

"I am sorry," apologized Jeanne.

"I fear I am not," said Mr. Duval, with one of his rare smiles. "You have put off an evil day--for _me_. It is too warm for lessons. Let us pay Old Captain a visit. You must see the big trout that Barney brought in today."

Not only Barney's big trout but Barney himself was at Old Captain's.

Jeanne liked Barney. He was younger than either of his partners and so exceedingly shy that he blushed whenever anybody looked at him. But he sometimes brought candy to the Duval children and he whittled wonderful boats. He never said anything, but he did a great deal of listening with his large red ears.

This time, at sight of Jeanne, Barney began to fumble awkwardly at his pockets. Finally he pulled forth a large bag of peanuts and a small brown turtle. He laid both in her lap, for by this time Jeanne was perched on the bench outside the old car.

"Thank you, Barney," smiled Jeanne. "We'll have a tea-party with the peanuts tomorrow and I'll scoop out a tiny pond, some place, for the turtle. Isn't he lovely!"

Barney grinned, but made no other response.

"I'm glad you folks come," chuckled Old Captain. "Barney here has nigh about talked me to death."

CHAPTER VIII

A SHOPPING EXPEDITION

Still, it appeared, even the matter of the out-of-date coat could not put off the evil day forever. One Sat.u.r.day night--the only night that stores were open in Bancroft--Mr. Duval took Jeanne to the business section of the town, where they entered the very store in which Old Captain had made his purchases.

The month was September and the pink dress, washed many times by Jeanne herself and dried in the full sunshine on the old dock, had faded to a more becoming shade.

Unlike the Captain, Leon Duval behaved quite like an ordinary shopper.

He carried himself with dignity and seemed to know exactly what he wanted. He said:

"Stockings for this little girl, if you please."

The clerk, after a hasty glance at the rather shabby garments of her customers, laid some cheap, coa.r.s.e stockings on the counter.

"Better ones," said Mr. Duval.

"Not good enough," said he, rejecting a second lot. "Something thinner and finer. Yes, these are better. Four pairs, please.

"Now I shall want some underwear for her. Lisle-thread or balbriggan, I think. Also two chemises, night-dresses, whatever petticoats are worn now and a good, serviceable dress--a sailor suit, I think. And after that shoes."

"Why, Daddy!" gasped Jeanne. "I thought you were going to buy _nails_.

You _said_ nails."

"Nails, too, perhaps; but first these."

Jeanne regarded her father thoughtfully. He had always been very gentle with her, but of late--yes, certainly--he had been very much kinder to her. And now, all these clothes. Was he, perhaps, going to send her to a real school--the big public school that stood so high that one could see its distant roof from the wharf? A lack of proper clothing had heretofore prevented her going--that, the distance, and her usefulness at home. She was older now, she could manage the walk. Michael disliked the task, but he _could_ look after the younger children. But with _clothes_, she could go to school. That would be splendid. Perhaps, in another year, Michael could have clothes, too.

But how particular her father was about hers. The chemises must have a little fine lace on them, he said. And the petticoats--the embroidery must be finer. Yes, the blue serge dress with the fine black braid on the sailor collar would do nicely. And next, a small, neat hat.

Jeannette gasped again. A hat! She had never worn a hat except when she had gone "up town" and then it hadn't been any special hat--just anybody's old cap. But, of course, if she went to school she'd need a hat.

"Now, if you please," said Mr. Duval, "we'd like to see some gloves."

"Kid, or silk?"

"Whichever is the more suitable."

"It's getting late for silk. Maybe you'd better take kid."

Mr. Duval did take kid ones. The sales-woman, with many a curious glance at her unusual customers, fitted a pair of tan gloves to Jeanne's unaccustomed fingers. Her fingers _wouldn't_ stay stiff. They doubled and curled; but at last the gloves were on--and off again. Jeanne gave a sigh of relief.

Then there were shoes. Jeanne was glad that the holes in her stockings were quite small ones. Supposing it had been her other pair! _All_ holes! As it was, the man to whom the clerk had transferred her customer seemed rather shocked to see _any_ holes. Was it possible that there were people--even entire families--with _no_ holes in their stockings?

The fat boy that had tumbled off the wharf that morning and hadn't known her afterwards in the new pink dress, probably that fortunate child had whole stockings, because everything else about him seemed most gloriously new and whole; but surely, the greater part of the population went about in holes. Mollie, Mrs. Shannon, her father--even Old Captain. She had seen _him_ put great patches in his thick woolen socks.

But what was the clerk putting on her feet! She had had shoes before.

Thick and heavy and always too large that they might last the longer.

Mollie had bought them, usually after the first snow had driven barefooted Jeanne to cover. But never such shoes as these. Soft, smooth, and only a tiny sc.r.a.p longer than her slender foot. And oh, so softly black! And then, a dreadful thought.

"Daddy," said Jeanne, "I just love these shoes for _myself_; but I'm afraid they won't _do_. You see, Sammy gets them next. They aren't _boys'_ shoes."

"These are _your_ shoes, not Sammy's," replied her father.

When Mr. Duval had paid for all the wonderful things, they were tied in three big parcels. Jeanne carried one, her father carried two. It was dark and quite late when they finally reached the wharf.

"We will say nothing about this at home," said Mr. Duval, when Jeanne proposed stopping to show the things to Old Captain. "For the present, we must hide them in the old trunk. I have no wish to talk about this matter with anybody. It concerns n.o.body but us two. Can you keep the secret--even from Old Captain?"

"Why, I _guess_ so. Will it be _very_ long? I'm afraid it will bubble and bubble until somebody hears it. And oh! That darling hat!"

"Not long, I fear."

"I'll try," promised Jeanne.

"Give me that package. Now, run along to bed. I guess everybody else is asleep."

It was a long time before excited Jeanne was able to sleep, however. One by one she was recalling the new garments. She wished that she might have had the new shoes under her pillow for just that one night.

Perhaps the only thing that saved the secret next day was the wonderful tale that she told the children, after she had led them to the farthest corner of the old wharf.

"The beautiful princess," said she, "wore a lovely white thing called a chemise--the _prettiest_ thing there ever was. It was trimmed with lovely lace that had a blue ribbon run through it. There was a beautiful white petticoat over that and on top of _that_ a dress."

"What for," asked Sammy, the inquisitive, "did she cover up her pretty chemise with all those things? Was she cold?"

"Oh, no. Only _grand_. A chemise is to wear _under_."