"You're going to," assured Mrs. Fairchild. "Captain Blossom shall come to dinner and we'll have a tree. He'd make a splendid Santa Claus, wouldn't he? We'll all be young and foolish and you shall invite Bessie and Lucy, and any other of your schoolmates that you like, to your tree--there'll be plenty of extra candy boxes and a lot of little trinkets that will fit _anybody_."
For Jeanne had girl friends! More than that, Lucy's father was a carpenter and Mrs. Fairchild didn't _care_. She said he was a _good_ carpenter; and that Lucy was a sweet girl. And Bessie lived in an unfashionable part of town. Mrs. Fairchild didn't mind that, either; nor the fact that the girl's father sold meat in his corner grocery. Bessie, she said, was a dear, with _such_ a nice mother. She had taken pains to find out.
Jeanne couldn't help remembering her experience with Lizzie, Susie, and Aunt Agatha; nor feeling that Mrs. Fairchild's attitude toward her friends was much pleasanter. She was having lunch with Bessie, one day in November, when Mr. Fairchild brought home a piece of news.
"Does anybody in this house happen to know the whereabouts of a young woman named Jeannette Huntington Duval?" he asked, when he came in that noon.
"Jeanne? She's having lunch with Bessie. It's Bessie's birthday."
"Good again! I have something to tell you. A very good-looking young lawyer from Pennsylvania was directed to my office this morning in his search for the missing heir to a very respectable fortune."
"What _do_ you mean?" demanded Mrs. Fairchild. "Whose heir? Whose fortune?"
"Jeanne's grandfather died nearly two weeks ago," returned Mr. Fairchild. "Although he is known to have made a will, many years ago, leaving all his money to his son Charles, no such will has been found among his effects. He kept it in his own possession. Unless it turns up--and you can believe me, the Huntingtons have made a pretty thorough search--his very considerable estate will be equally divided between his son Charles and Jeanne--_our_ Jeanne. It is practically certain that the will no longer exists."
"I do hope it doesn't, since Mrs. Huntington was so horrid to Jeanne."
"So do I. You must tell Jeanne about her grandfather, I suppose; but it will be wiser not to mention the money until we are _sure_. I'm certainly glad we adopted her _before_ this happened. I'd _never_ have consented to adopt an heiress."