CHAPTER XXV

THE FAIRY GODDAUGHTER

Two days later, having done some very necessary shopping in the village, the girls and boys, Mrs. Fenwick, Rosa Lee, the sapajou and Uncle Jerry’s battered chest, said good-by to Clayton and started back to Scarsdale.

The monkey, a collar about his neck, was confined to the baggage car, to the great amusement of the train hands.

The girls and boys were in irrepressible spirits during the long ride home.

“Now that Bab’s an honest-to-goodness heiress, I suppose she will shake us poor folk like the dust from her dainty feet,” twinkled Gerry.

Bab laughed happily.

“If there’s any shaking to be done, you will have to do it all, Gerry,” she said. “Oh, isn’t it wonderful to be going home like this?”

“A real sensation in Scarsdale,” chuckled Gerry. “Beautiful Barbara Winters Heir to Immense Fortune. Old House Burns, Revealing Hidden Treasure. Can’t you just see it? All in headlines, too!”

“And to think,” said Bab dreamily, “that our ghosts were only a monkey and a Hindu servant!”

Charlie looked across at Bab, speculation in his eyes.

“What are you going to do with your wealth, lucky girl?” he asked.

“Well,” said Bab, groping for the right words, “I promised myself that if we really did find anything in the old house, I’d like to spend some of that hoarded money sort of--well, _doing_ things for people. I suppose there are lots of folks,” with a sigh born of her new knowledge, “who only need a little money to be happy!”

“Bress yo’ heart, honey, so dey is,” said Rosa Lee. “Dey’s all over de world, folks like dat. You can do a sight o’ good wiv yo’ money if you likes.”

“Yes, indeed,” added Mrs. Fenwick. “One of the very finest things about having money is that one may make others happy with it.”

“I know that,” said Bab, with conviction.

There was no one in particular to meet them at the Scarsdale station, for Bab had urged that their homecoming be a surprise.

Here the young folks said good-by, exchanging promises to meet the next day for a genuine celebration.

Bab took Mrs. Fenwick home first in the taxi, then Rosa Lee. At last she was alone with the treasure chest and the sapajou. The driver nodded in response to her directions and they sped off toward home--the dear home that now need not be lost.

She had the taxi driver deposit the chest noiselessly on the side porch. She paid him--much to his astonishment, with one of Uncle Jerry’s gold pieces! Then, with the sapajou on her arm, entered the house.

Her grandmother and grandfather were in the living room. She heard them talking together.

“Randall was here again,” came in Grandmother’s tired old voice. “We can’t fight any longer, Caleb. We’re too old. The house, our dear home, must be sold----”

“And then,” cried Bab, a break in her gay voice, “entered the fairy godmother--I should say, goddaughter--with a bag--of gold----”

She ran over to Gran and kissed the old gentleman’s ruddy cheek. The sapajou, chattering wildly, sought the shelter of the chandelier.

Then, half-laughing, half-crying, Bab pushed her bewildered grandmother back into the chair from which she had half risen, and flung a handful of gold pieces into her lap.

“You are never to worry any more, never, never, never! You may have a much handsomer house than this, dear grandmother, if you like, for I’ve found Uncle Jerry’s hidden fortune--thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of gold coins and jewels!”

“Hooray!” cried Granddaddy, like the eternal boy he was. “Where is it?”

“On the side porch. Grandmother, stop staring at me so. I’m not crazy--really I’m not!”

They won a coherent account from her after a while, of course, and afterward, three people, one very young, and two quite old, sat until long after dusk talking over their miraculous good fortune and making happy plans for the future.

“Poor Jeremiah,” sighed Grandmother once, during the discussion. “What a cramped, lonely life he lived during his last years.”

“It does seem as though I might have done something for him--for Uncle Jeremiah who did so much for me,” added Bab thoughtfully.

“Don’t let any such thought take hold of your mind, Bab,” said Granddaddy sternly. “Your great-uncle chose his own way of life. You could have done nothing.”

“I’m absolutely happy,” sighed Bab, at last. “I think I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Why shouldn’t you be?” asked Gran, smiling and stroking the soft, fair curls. “Haven’t you got the lucky ring?”

* * * * *

Several years flew by and Bab became a young lady grown. And on this

## particular night in June Bab was giving a party.

Gerry Thompson was there, of course, for Gerry and Bab were still inseparable. And there was Gordon, just home from a Western university, and Charlie Seymour, not nearly so cocky and conceited as of old.

It was of Charlie that Bab was speaking now. She and Gordon were sitting out a dance on the porch. Through the open door they could watch the happy progress of the party.

“They are all having such a lovely time,” said Bab, with the satisfaction of the young hostess whose party is a success.

Gordon chuckled.

“There go Gerry and Cousin Charles out the side door, into the garden, presumably.”

“And they will probably come back engaged,” laughed Bab. “I’ve seen it coming on for ages.”

“Charlie’s not a bad scout these days,” said Gordon thoughtfully. “Runs like a streak; made the track team, you know, in good style. The dear old college has made a man of him.”

“No,” said Bab dreamily. “It’s Gerry who has made a man of him. I told you she would, don’t you remember ’way back in that wonderful summer when we found Uncle Jerry’s fortune?”

Gordon turned to her with laughing speculation. What he saw was an amazingly pretty girl with fair hair and deep, gray eyes and a complexion that would have put the bloom of a peach to shame. Her hands lay idly in her lap and on the finger of one of them glittered a ring, a tiny, smiling Buddha with jeweled eyes.

Gordon took up the hand and examined the ring.

“It has brought you luck, hasn’t it, Bab?”

The girl nodded.

“Everything in the world you wanted?”

“We-ell,” said Bab, considering, “_almost_ everything.”

“I’d offer you me,” said the boy humbly, “only that wouldn’t be much to offer a girl like you.”

“It’s all,” said Bab softly but very clearly, “that I ever want.”

Some time later Bab added:

“Could we go one place, Gordon--on our honeymoon, you know?”

“Anywhere!” returned the boy.

“I’ve been thinking--you know I’ve had the old house in the glen rebuilt?”

Gordon nodded, his eyes on her face.

“I’d heard you had.”

“It’s lovely, Don, painted outside and in, and a garden about it where there were only weeds before, and some of the woods cleared just a little. And I’ve even had the old blacksmith’s shop restored--only now it’s a model kitchen, yellow and white with windows all about it, and two nice yellow cupboards for the pots and pans. It would be such a lovely place for a--a----”

“Honeymoon?” suggested Gordon.

“And we could take Rosa Lee along to cook for us.”

Gordon did not answer at once. He was turning the “lucky ring” around and around on Bab’s finger. At last he said, half-laughing, half-serious:

“Don’t ever take it off, Bab. For it’s brought me luck, too, you know!”

“I’ll wear it,” said Bab, regarding the lucky ring solemnly, “I’ll wear it as long as I live!”

THE END

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.