Although Jeanne loitered outside shop windows and kept a sharp lookout for Old Captain, who _might_ be shopping for pink parasols, although she lingered at Lucy's and stayed and stayed and _stayed_ at Bessie's, it seemed as if it were taking Mrs. Fairchild a very great while to come with the promised car. It was that lady's husband who came with it finally.
"Come on, Sister," said he, when Jeanne appeared on the doorstep. "That other child is still finding things to put on that tree."
"No, indeed. Mrs. Fairchild--_she's_ our youngest, these days. So I had to come for you. Hop in--it's pretty cold for the engine. Did you buy that pipe? Good! We'll stop for some tobacco--shall I get you some for Barney? He's coming to the tree, too, is he? That's good. If his pipe draws better than mine I'll take it away from him. Now, you cuddle under the rugs and I'll stop for the 'baccy."
There were other errands after that. In spite of Mr. Fairchild's cheerful conversation concerning these various errands, it seemed to Jeanne that the fastest little car in Bancroft was very slow about getting home that evening. They arrived _just_ in time for dinner.
Mrs. Fairchild met them at the front door.
"Don't waste a minute," said she, fairly dragging them inside. "Dinner's on the table. Your soup's getting cold. You can wash your hands in the downstairs lavatory, Jeanne--no time to go upstairs."
"Mother's so excited that her hair's coming down," observed Roger, at the table. "And she's so mysterious that I shouldn't be a bit surprised if she had a young elephant or a full-grown horse hidden upstairs in the spare-room closet. Look at her eyes."
"I feel," confessed Mrs. Fairchild, who had never looked prettier than she did at that moment, "as if I were jumping right out of my skin. _Did_ I eat my soup! Or did Mary take it away?"
"Oh, Mumsey!" he said. "You're younger than I was at _three_. If you had _two_ girls to fix a tree for, you'd starve. You haven't touched your steak--what _is_ that noise? This house is full of strange sounds--as if Santa Claus were stuck fast in our chimney. Shall I--"
Mrs. Fairchild hopped up, ran to the front hall, and slipped a record into the phonograph. A _noisy_ record and the machine wide open.