But Jeanne wasn't contented and she couldn't forget the babies that had been so much a part of her young life on the dock. Still, because she was a considerate young person, she tried not to talk about them; she even tried to pretend that she wasn't thinking of them; but Mrs. Fairchild knew, when she caught the big dark eyes gazing off into space, that they were seeing moving pictures of Sammy, Annie, and Patsy getting spanked by the crossest of aunts and scolded by the ugliest of grandmothers.
Of course she had written to them from time to time; but Sammy was barely seven and probably _couldn't_ write. At any rate, no one had answered her letters or acknowledged her small gifts.
"Letters for everybody," said Roger, one morning; "even for Jeanne who _never_ gets any. A bill for you, Father; an invitation for you, Mother; a circular for me; and Jeanne gets the only real letter in the bunch. It's from Chicago."
The Fairchilds were at the breakfast table and everybody looked eagerly at Jeanne.
"It must be from the Rossiters," said she. "I wrote to Mrs. Rossiter ever so long ago--oh! they've been to Alaska--they always travel a lot. And my letter followed them from place to place, and they didn't get it until just the other day. But oh! Here's news of my grandfather. I'll read it to you:
"'We were so sorry to hear, through Mr. Charles Huntington, that your grandfather is in such a hopeless condition. He has been absolutely helpless for the past three months and his mind is completely gone. He knows no one and I am sure does not miss you, so, my dear, you need worry no longer about that. I doubt if he has been well enough, for a single day since you saw him last, to miss anybody.'"
"I'm sorry my grandfather is like that," said Jeanne, "but of course I'm glad he doesn't miss me. I'm afraid he won't be able to use the nice handkerchief that I'm embroidering that lovely 'H' on for Christmas. Poor grandfather. He's been sick so long."
"Anyway," said Mrs. Fairchild, seeking to divert her, "Annie will like her doll."
"Yes," said Jeanne, brightening, "she'll just love it. We never had any Christmas on the dock and the Huntingtons had a very grown-up one--no toys or trees or stockings. I've always wanted to _see_ a 'Merry Christmas.'"