Jimsi had to get ready to go to Aunt Phoebe’s for weeks and weeks while she grew strong in the country. There had to be warm things in her trunk. Some of them had to be mended. It took time. But at last the trunk was packed. (Mother and Henry and Katherine wrote crow letters for Aunt Phoebe and tucked these away inside. Jimsi volunteered to see that they reached Aunt Phoebe’s pillow—somehow.)

And then the day came! Daddy took Jimsi’s bag. There was a big hugging for Mother and Katherine and Henry who couldn’t go to the train because he had to go to school—and then Jimsi and Daddy walked down the street to take the car for the railway station. At the corner Jimsi turned for the forty-eleventh time: “Maybe you can come up for vacation, Henry,” she called back. “I’ll write you all about The Happy Shop.” Just at that moment the car came and they hopped aboard. Before she knew what was happening, Daddy and she were on the train and the train was leaving the city. Slowly the train came out of the dark tunnel that marked its departure from town. Out into open spaces of wide skies and fields it curved along the tracks. And as Jimsi gazed through the car window happily, watching the landscape bright in the sunlight, there flew from a thicket a single big black crow! “Caw-caw,” called the crow. “Caw-caw.” And Jimsi pulled Daddy’s arm—his head was deep in a newspaper—“Oh, look, look!” she cried. “Daddy, there’s the Good Crow!” Wasn’t it fun! Oh, wasn’t it fun! That big black crow had said caw-caw and he was flying in the same direction as Jimsi’s train! Already Aunt Phoebe’s play crow seemed more real than ever. And every moment the train was bringing Jimsi nearer and nearer to Aunt Phoebe and The Happy Shop.

CHAPTER II
The Happy Shop and the Magic Book

THE first thing Jimsi said, when the train stopped at a little station where Aunt Phoebe was waiting to greet them on the platform, was, “Oh, Aunt Phoebe, I saw the Crow. He followed the train. I’m sure it must have been your crow because I heard him say caw-caw!”

Aunt Phoebe smiled. “Wasn’t that funny,” she laughed. “Wait, Jimsi, you’ll really see my crow soon. He’s in The Happy Shop now. But don’t expect too much, dear. You mustn’t be disappointed!”

They walked through the little country town together. Aunt Phoebe’s house, so she said, wasn’t far from the station. Everything seemed so quiet and there were so few people! Jimsi had only been in the country summers. Now that it was winter-time and the ground was bare and brown, the country didn’t seem like the same sort of a place. Jimsi began to wonder what she would find to do all day long. True, Aunt Phoebe could always invent splendid things—and there was going to be a fine new play called The Happy Shop! Yes, there was The Happy Shop! “What is The Happy Shop?” she asked, looking up to Aunt Phoebe as she trotted along between Daddy and her. “I want to know all about The Happy Shop!”

“Oh, you’ll have to wait for that, Jimsi,” returned Aunt Phoebe. “Here we are”—and they turned in at a quaint green gate that led to a small bare garden that was shrouded in boughs of evergreen. The house was small like the garden. Aunt Phoebe lived here alone, though one never, never could imagine an aunt like Aunt Phoebe as being the least bit lonely. Why, she never could be lonely—there was too much for her to think about and do, don’t you know. It’s only the persons who sit still and think how miserable they are who are lonely!

Jimsi followed her into the hall. It was old-fashioned and quaint like the garden. Upstairs there was a wee little room that looked out into the boughs of the evergreens. It was papered in soft blue-green and it had a most inviting soft bed with a blue cover. Aunt Phoebe took Jimsi’s cloak and hat and hung them in the closet. She put back the covers of the bed and made her lie down and rest. “You came here to grow well and strong,” she said. “We must do what Mother wants you to do. By and by I’ll call you and you can come down.” She covered Jimsi up with something downy. Then she kissed her. “Deary,” she smiled. “Look under the pillow—” and then she closed the door softly and left Jimsi lying there feeling under the pillow for—for—why a crow letter, of course!

Jimsi giggled softly to herself as she felt it under the pillow and drew it out.

It was such a darling little tiny letter! It had a wee stamp in one corner. The stamp was drawn with red ink. Oh, it was darling of thoughtful Aunt Phoebe to do that! Wasn’t it exactly like her too! Jimsi smiled as she folded the tiny sheet and put it back in the envelope. Then, obediently, she curled down into the downy bed and shut her eyes tight, resolving to do all she could to help Aunt Phoebe keep the promise to Mother.

When she woke, it was growing dusk. Aunt Phoebe was at the door of the little blue room calling, “Up, Jimsi! What a fine nap you’ve had. It’s almost tea-time!” She lit a candle and helped Jimsi unpack her trunk a bit and dress. Then, hand in hand they went down to the hall where Daddy was consulting his watch. “I must be off,” he declared.

Well, for a few moments after he had gone, Jimsi thought she was going to cry—but she didn’t! Oh, no! Of course she didn’t! She knew that she was going to miss Daddy fearfully and Mother and Henry and Katherine too but Jimsi was a plucky girl. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Can’t I help you get tea on the table, Aunt Phoebe?” she asked. (Mother told Jimsi once that the way to be happy was to forget oneself. “Think! See if you can’t help somebody, dear, when you feel like that. Try it and see!”)

So Jimsi tried to help. She set the table with the pretty blue plates. She found where knives and forks were in the sideboard. She searched out the tumblers and by and by all was done.

“Shall we ask the crow in to tea?” demanded Aunt Phoebe, coming in from the kitchen with a dish steaming and good to sniff.

“Can we!” exclaimed Jimsi.

Aunt Phoebe smiled. “We might play it,” she suggested. “Lay another plate, just for fun. I’ll get the crow!”

Jimsi was mystified. Oh, dear! How jolly! How splendidly jolly! What was Aunt Phoebe up to now?

And then while she was still wondering and laughing softly, into the room stepped Aunt Phoebe and she had—she had a big black crow in her hand! He was a stuffed crow and very black and splendid. He was perched on a twig that was on a standard. Quite solemnly but with her eyes merry with a twinkle, Aunt Phoebe set the crow down in the chair that was to be his and introduced him.

“This is Jimsi, my play-niece,” said she, “Jimsi, this is my play-crow, Caw Caw.”

“I’m very happy to know you, Caw Caw,” said Jimsi, entering with spirit into the play. “You’ve always been a friend of mine but I never expected to see you really and truly. I thought you were just pretend, you know—something like Cinderella’s lovely fairy godmother. And yet I always liked to play you were true.