Frodo had stayed on at the Sackville Place for two weeks after recovering from his cold, long after Pippin and Sam had gone home. It wasn't simply that he feared riding twenty miles in the winter's cold while in delicate health; he also felt that he owed it to his friend Thimula Chinhold to stay and help her during that difficult time. Thimula had her husband's funeral to arrange and several small children to look after, and Frodo had had his own hard experience of these responsibilities in the aftermath of personal disaster. He had only, finally, gone home after Thimula assured him that she could manage on her own.

He wrote to Sam that he was returning to Hobbiton, and arrived at Bag End the next afternoon just in time for tea. Sam met him at the front door--not bringing the nice, hot cup to warm him after his long ride that he'd hoped for, but a sealed note.

"It's from Angelica," Sam informed him. "She wanted me to send it up to Sackville after you, but I told her you'd be home today."

"Angelica? Is she here?" Angelica Whitfoot, Frodo's cousin, lived in Michel Delving.

"She's at Miss Dora's, and must've got in last night. She came over first thing this morning with that letter for you."

Frodo flipped the unopened note between his fingers. "Do you know what this is about, Sam? I suspect it must be something more urgent than an invitation to dine at my aunt's house." Angelica wouldn't have wanted to send for him all the way from Sackville if it were something commonplace.

"I can't say what's going on," Sam answered. "I haven't been over to the Old Place since I went to bring the little uns home, but I know there's a visitor staying with Miss Dora. Not Angelica. This is another lady nobody's seen before. She got there a couple o' days before Angelica did. Folk've been wondering who she is, and why nobody's been asked to come meet her."

"Perhaps that's what this is. She may an acquaintance of my aunt or Angelica's and in some personal trouble, and they think she requires my confidential services." The quickest way to resolve these speculations was to read Angelica's note. Frodo opened it to find that there was only a brief message within:

"Frodo-

"Please come at once. We need your help to expose
an imposter."

Angelica didn't explain the matter further. The only way Frodo could find out who this impostor might be was to obey his cousin's summons. He tucked the note into his coat pocket--he hadn't had time to take it off, and there was no reason for him to do so now--and gave Sam an apologetic peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry, my dear. I'll have to go right out again. I'll take my tea at Aunt Dora's, but I hope you can expect me back in time for dinner."

---

The Old Baggins Place was on the far northern side of the Hill, but it wasn't a very long walk even on a chilly afternoon. When Frodo arrived, he found his family assembled in the best parlor. With his Aunt Dora were Angelica and her husband Lad Whitfoot, Angelica's parents, her aunt Gilliflora and uncle Porto, Milo and Peony Burrows, and another hobbit Frodo didn't recognize. She was a woman past her first youth--in her middle forties, Frodo estimated--small and plump, not a beauty but possessing a pleasant, round face and light brown curls pulled into a bun atop her head. This must surely be the mysterious visitor Sam had heard about.

"Frodo dear!" His aged aunt set down her knitting to hold out one hand to him in welcome. "I'm so glad you've come at last. Everyone's made such a fuss and said we ought to wait and do nothing until you were here, though I must say I don't understand why. We might've introduced Dorie to all our friends and neighbors by now and settled the question of her inheritance quite suitably."

"Dorie?" Frodo regarded the visitor again with greater interest, although he was at a loss to imagine who this woman was supposed to be. Was she a relative? There was something in the shape of her face that reminded him of his cousin Peony, but many hobbit-ladies of a similar age had the same type of features.

"You'll never guess!" cried Dora. "Such a surprise to us all when she came to the door. Frodo, this is your cousin, Doriella Baggins. Your uncle Dudo's daughter."

"Uncle Dudo..." Frodo had never met his uncle. In fact, he often forgot that his father and Aunt Dora had ever had a younger brother. All his information about Dudo had come from Dora herself: Dudo had gone away as a young hobbit to seek his fortune and never returned to Hobbiton. He'd only written to his sister a few times over the years, once to say that he'd taken work in the Southfarthing and was going to marry a local girl, then four or five years later to announce the birth of a daughter. It had been more than thirty years since Dora had last heard from him, and the Baggins family generally believed that he was dead.

"Dorie, this is Frodo Baggins," Dora completed the introduction. "You've heard about him already."

"Yes, of course," said Doriella. "Everybody's heard about you." She smiled up at him, but didn't rise from her chair next to Dora's beside the parlor fire. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, cousin Frodo."

"At your service, cousin," Frodo replied politely and gave her a small bow. He was aware, however, that the other Bagginses around the room were not as delighted by the discovery of this new relation as Dora was. Given Aunt Dora's allusion to an inheritance, he understood their concern. "Are you staying here with Auntie?" he asked.

"Of course she's staying here, Frodo," Dora answered before her namesake could reply. "Where else would my own niece find a home? I've told Dorie that she's welcome to stay here as long as she likes. She has as much right to call the Old Place her home as I do, dear Frodo, or you do. As a matter of fact, I've been thinking of leaving it to you both when I pass on."

At this last remark, Angelica regarded Frodo with widened eyes and a pointed look. She remembered as well as he did the last time Aunt Dora had made a similar proposal.

"I see what's in Aunt Dora's mind," Frodo told Sam later that evening after he'd returned to Bag End. They'd had dinner together and were now on their way to bed. "But you needn't be afraid--I've no intention of marrying Miss Doriella Baggins, even if she does turn out to be my cousin."

"I wasn't worried about that," Sam assured him.

Once they were in the bedroom, Frodo took off his tweed jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. "You know how Auntie always wanted me to marry Angelica so that she could leave the Old Place to the two of us," he went on as he tossed both the waistcoat and jacket over the back of the chair near the fire Sam had thoughtfully lit before he'd come home. The room was comfortably cozy. "She never really gave up hope of her plan, even though Angelica's been married to Lad for years, has two children with him, and is expecting a third. All she sees is that this Doriella gives her a second chance to make the same sort of match for me."

"Does she mean to leave this Miss Baggins all her money and the Old Place?"

"She certainly intends to leave her some part of her fortune. But there's more to it than that, Sam. If this woman is actually my uncle Dudo's daughter, then she already has a right to one third of the Old Baggins Place property even before Auntie passes on." Frodo also owned a share of the house through his father, but since he also owned Bag End, he was content to let his aunt act as if the Old Place were entirely her own. As far he was concerned, she was free to leave it to whomever she liked. Other members of the family, however, couldn't be as disinterested about it.

The first Baggins to settle in this part of the Shire had owned most of the land for ten miles around the Hill. While that vast property had been sold off or divided among Balbo's descendants over the years, an impressive portion of it around the Old Place was still in Dora's hands. The elderly lady was generous to her relatives, but impulsive. She had made out a half dozen wills in the last ten years. While everyone in her extensive family, including Frodo, expected her to bequeath them something, no one could anticipate what they might receive, or how much. Since Frodo had already inherited enough from his parents and Uncle Bilbo to keep him more than comfortable for the rest of his life, he viewed his aunt's final will with detached curiosity. When he'd been very ill, he hadn't even expected to outlive her. Milo and Peony Burrows were counting on Aunt Dora leaving the Old Place to them. Peony's brothers Ponto and Porto also had hopes of Dora leaving them a sizeable inheritance even though they were already prominent local hobbits. Even though Angelica would receive her parents' and Uncle Porto's property one day, she had always been a favorite of Dora's and had her own expectations of a great inheritance.

"Is she your uncle's daughter? This Miss Baggins?" Sam asked him.

"I've no idea," Frodo admitted as he pulled on his nightshirt. "None of us know anything about this woman. Milo and Peony say they never saw her before she knocked on the door four days ago, asked for Aunt Dora, and introduced herself. Of course, Auntie believed her right away, but everyone else is suspicious. Any stranger of the appropriate age might easily approach our elderly, very wealthy, gullible aunt and claim to be a lost-long niece. They've no good reason to believe she's telling the truth, but they can't call her a fraud outright either, since she might turn out to be our cousin after all. That's why they were all so desperate for me to come home. Sometimes, it's useful to have a detective in the family. Even Porto and Ponto think so, although Ponto seems to think this all my fault for being so disreputably famous and drawing attention to the Baggins family."

"What do they want you to do? Find out who she is?"

"Yes, that's right. They also want me to protect their expectations. None of us likes to see Aunt Dora taken in by an imposter, but I believe my relatives would all be much happier if this woman does turn out to be an imposter. They won't like it if she really is our cousin and has some rightful claims, but they'll accept it. It's up to me to discover which is the truth."

Sam, in his nightshirt, sat down on the bed while Frodo went to the nightstand to splash water on his face. "You'll be going away again." He didn't sound at all pleased at this prospect.

"I'm afraid can't do much searching into the supposed Miss Baggins's past here in Hobbiton, my dear."

"Well, I can't come with you this time," Sam announced mournfully.

"Whyever not? Is one of the children ill?" Frodo had seen them briefly before their nurse had put them to bed; they were happy to see him and had all looked fine.

"No, but I've been too long away from them already," Sam explained. "I can't go off whenever I like anymore, Frodo. It's too hard on the little uns. You should've seen the way little Frodo came and hugged my legs when I went to the Old Place to bring 'em home, and Nellie kept saying as how she never wanted me to go away again. She's scared, you see, since... well, since Rosie went away, that she'll lose me too. "

"Oh, Sam. Of course I understand." Once Frodo had finished drying his face, he came over to the bed. Sam reached out to catch him around his waist.

"If you're going off again right away, Frodo, we oughta make up for it in the time we've got," he said, then pulled Frodo down onto the mattress and gave him a kiss. "You haven't been home in weeks, and we've been apart longer'n that. There was never much chance for us to be together when me 'n' Pippin was chasing after that Bog-Stomper, not with you in bed with a cold half the time, and me having to come home just as you were getting over it. You're over that cold now?"

"Yes, Sam, perfectly fine," Frodo replied from his supine position. He slipped both hands up beneath Sam's nightshirt and reached around to the small of his back to draw him down for a second kiss. "I missed you too." He had, after all, spend the better part of January sleeping by himself in a guest room at the Sackville Place.

It was sad to think that they would have so little time together before he must go away again, but he recognized that the children must come first with Sam. Their mother had barely been dead a year, and the entire household was still learning to adjust itself to that terrible loss. Sam was only just beginning to be like his old self again. They were almost like they'd once been, before this disaster had struck. Frodo thought they might be happy, if it weren't for these separations.

They began to move against each other, quickly finding the old, familiar rhythms. This wasn't a time to play elaborate games; both of them simply wanted to be as close as possible to the one he loved best before they must part again. The only barrier between them right now was the fabric of their nightshirts.

Frodo laughed as he struggled to pull the hindering cloth up out of the way. "At least, I won't be going for a day or two," he reassured Sam. "Before I set off in search of Miss Doriella Baggins's true past, I'll need some more information about her, and one or two other things..."

Peony and Angelica called at Bag End the next morning after second breakfast to discuss the imposter at their aunt's house. "You've seen her now, Frodo. What do you think?" Peony asked anxiously as the two ladies sat down with Frodo in the second-best drawing room.

"It's difficult to tell from simply looking at her," said Frodo. "She might be a relation. If she is, then it's odd that she hasn't tried to introduce herself to us before this. I'll have to try and find out something about her before I can say."

"Ponto and Porto are certain that she's a fraud, but Milo said it was best to wait and be sure before we said anything like it to Auntie. She wouldn't listen anyway, unless we had good proof that it was so. Angelica was the one who said you ought to look into it, both as a detective and for Auntie's sake."

"Cousin or not, I'm sure she's after whatever she can get from Aunt Dora," added Angelica. "Oh, Frodo, you only saw a part of it last night. It's awful to watch Auntie fuss over this woman and make plans for her. Poor Auntie's never doubted for an instant that this so-called Doriella Baggins is her brother's daughter."

"Yes, that's so," said Peony. "From the moment she came to the house, Aunt Dora's treated her like a long-lost daughter of her own. Angelica's right about what that woman's after. You heard Aunt Dora say she means to leave the Old Place to her and to you--you say you don't want it, but Miss Doriella hasn't said otherwise. She only says that Aunt Dora is very kind to think of her. And even if Auntie left it to you, you wouldn't toss us out immediately after the funeral."

"Of course not," Frodo assured her. "As far as I'm concerned, you and Milo are welcome to have the Old Place for as long as you like."

"We certainly couldn't rely on Miss Doriella to make us the same promise! Oh, Milo says we don't need it so desperately now that our fortunes have improved. We could buy a house of our own in Hobbiton or anywhere, but we've lived there for so long, looking after Auntie, we feel that it's our home too as much as hers. Myrtle and Minto don't remember ever living anywhere else." Myrtle and Minto were Peony's youngest children.

"You know how Auntie's been the last few years," said Angelica. "She only gets sillier as she gets older and I don't know what would happen to her if Aunt Peony and Uncle Milo weren't there to keep care of her. It must be terrible, losing your natural wits as you grow old. I hope it never happens to me. Well, we must be Auntie's wits for her and look after her best interests. What do you plan to do, Frodo?"

Frodo explained his intention to travel in search of information about the woman claiming to be Dora's niece. "But before I go anywhere, I need a list of places to go to," he told them. "Has Doriella talked about any of the places she's lived or mentioned where she grew up? Has Aunt Dora's kept some of her brother's letters? Perhaps he wrote about where he was living when his daughter was born. That would be the best place for me to begin--if I know where Uncle Dudo last lived, I might trace what happened to his family after that."

"Auntie will know," Peony responded promptly. "Since this woman's shown up, Uncle Dudo is all she can talk about. We never used to hear his name from one year's end to the next! She's been looking for the letters he wrote her ages ago. She's sure she hasn't thrown them out, and there must be the name of a village or two in there. If we ask, she'll let us read them."

"What about Doriella? What has she told you about herself?"

"She hasn't said much about her past," said Peony. "That was one of the things that made us so suspicious about her from the first. When she first arrived, Aunt Dora asked her what had become of Uncle Dudo--Was he still alive? Why had he stopped writing? That sort of thing. Doriella said that her father had died when she was a child and she didn't remember much about him. And that put an end to that!"

"She's never spoken the name of any town or village where she's lived to me," added Angelica. "But I can guess that she's just come up from the far end of the Southfarthing and has probably lived there most of her life."

Frodo was intrigued by this deduction. "What makes you think that?"

"Her way of speaking," Angelica answered. "She sounds quite common, not like a gentlewoman, but there's also an odd lilt to her voice. And there's her clothing. Surely you noticed, Frodo--her clothes are too light for a northern Shire winter. No woolens. She's not used to this cold."

"That's true," Peony agreed eagerly. "Did you notice how she borrowed one of Auntie's shawls and likes to sit near the fire?"

Frodo had, but he was delighted to see how his cousins, who had helped him in so many investigations, were now acting as detectives themselves. "I know something of the far-south Southfarthing," he said. "It's a large place, with huge plantations and lots of tiny villages. I must have some idea of where to go. Can you try to draw her out in conversation? Ask her about her past. If she's telling the truth about who she is, she shouldn't mind being honest about it, unless she has something else to hide."

"If she is our cousin, what reason would she have to conceal her past?" wondered Angelica.

"Well, even a cousin of ours might have secrets she'd rather not tell."

Peony looked pleasantly scandalized by this remark. "I prefer to believe that if she refuses to tell, then we'll know she's not a Baggins."

"Before I go anywhere, I also want a small picture of Doriella to take with me," said Frodo. "I can't go around telling people I'm trying to trace a woman of about five-and-forty, three-and-half feet tall, buxomy but not stout, with light brown curls, brown eyes, a round face with pink cheeks and a snub nose. There are hundreds of ladies who fit that description! I must have something to show to people when I ask them about her, to be sure I've got the right woman. But I don't how I can quickly get an accurate likeness."

"Lad can do it," responded Angelica.

"Lad?"

"Oh, he's no great portrait-painter. He began by doing sketches of ponies when he had to describe one he was planning to buy or sell and Uncle Milo couldn't come to have a look for himself. Lad was rather good at drawing ponies. Then I asked him if he could do miniatures of the children. He gave them to me as a present for his last birthday." Angelica pulled up the locket that was dangling from a chain about her neck; she opened it to show Frodo two tiny drawings of her son and daughter within. The pictures were recognizable as little Willa and Adalmo, each done in black ink with tints of pink on the lips and cheeks and yellow dabs on their curly heads.

"Why these are quite good," said Frodo, astonished that Lad had any artistic talents. "Can he make one of Doriella? It needn't be fancy--simple pen and ink will do as long as it looks like her."

---

That same afternoon, Angelica returned bringing two small pencil sketches of Doriella, one full-face and the other a profile. Lad had captured a respectable likeness of his subject. She also told Frodo that Dora had found one of Dudo's letters and Peony had had a look at it.

"Aunt Dora showed her the one Uncle Dudo wrote when he married," she reported. "The place where he was living then was Longbourne."

"I've heard of it," said Frodo. "It's in the valley where the Shirebourne river runs into the Brandywine, near Longbottom. I've never been there, but it isn't far from the pipeweed plantation Lotho used to own. A two-day ride if the weather remains fair.""

Angelica made a face at the memory of the late Lotho Sackville-Baggins. "There's something else that may be of help to you, Frodo," she added. "In his letter, Uncle Dudo mentioned the maiden name of the girl he married. It was Eulilla Downswater. She's probably passed on, but her family had a farm nearby. Some of them might live there still."

Frodo headed south the next morning under an overcast sky. He'd only gone a few miles when a misty drizzle began to fall, then turned into a heavy and icy rain. Even if he were willing to press on in such weather, he'd promised Sam that he would look after himself on his travels. When he reached to the crossroad that led to Tuckborough, he stopped at the Green Hill inn. While his pony was stabled with a warm blanket and oats, Frodo settled down in the public room with a mug of hot cider to wait out the rain; when it showed no stopping by dusk, he took a room for the night and ordered his dinner.

The inn had one private dining parlor, which the innkeeper was usually happy to provide for Frodo whenever he stopped there. This time, however, the innkeeper apologetically informed him that the dining parlor was engaged by other guests. The only other guests currently staying at the inn appeared to be two children, a boy and girl of about twelve and ten respectively, accompanied by a woman who looked more like a maidservant than their mother. Frodo glimpsed the trio when they emerged from their own room at dinnertime; the children regarded him shyly and the woman curtseyed to him as they went past. Since few local hobbits had ventured out in the bad weather to have their usual half-pint or two, Frodo had the common room largely to himself that evening during his meal, then went to bed.

The next day dawned cold but sunny, and Frodo rode on without further inconvenience. He reached Longbourne two days later.

The village of Longbourne sat on the southern bank of the Shirebourne, which was an unimpressive river when compared to the Brandywine but was deep enough for boats and small barges to navigate up and down its lower courses. When it joined the Brandywine at Longbottom a few miles to the east, the great river widened to mighty proportions. Neighboring farmers and planters brought their crops to Longbourne to be sold and shipped. The place reminded Frodo of Budlingsbank, except the hills in this part of the Shire weren't so high and the chief crop grown here was pipeweed rather than tea.

According to Aunt Dora's letter, her brother Dudo had taken work for a well-to-do farmer near Longbourne. In what capacity, Frodo was unsure: agent, broker, clerk? Whatever work Dudo had done, he must have quickly gained the goodwill of his employer and the affection of at least one member of the Downswater family; he had married the farmer's daughter.

Once in Longbourne, Frodo sought out the eldest inhabitants of the village, for these were the hobbits most likely to remember Dudo Baggins and his wife. He represented his mission as a genealogical one, mentioning his uncle's name and saying with perfect honesty that he was anxious to trace any members of Dudo's family who might still be alive.

After asking at the inn and pubs, Frodo was eventually directed to a prosperous hobbit of about fifty named Mr. Rusk who ran a shipping business from the barge docks.

"It seems as if we're related by marriage, Mr. Baggins!" Mr. Rusk exclaimed once Frodo explained that he was Dudo's nephew. "Imagine that--me related to Frodo Baggins! I never did guess, but it's only the truth. My father and your uncle started this business together after they both married Downswater girls. I can't tell you much about your uncle, since he died when I was just a lad, but Father certainly can."

"Your father's still alive?"

"Eleventy-seven and spry as a cricket in summertime! Come to dine at my house tonight, and I'll introduce you."

When Frodo went to the Rusks' smial just outside Longbourne that evening, Mrs. Rusk was flustered to see that her dinner guest was so fine and famous a gentlehobbit. She seemed somewhat confused at how precisely he was related to her husband, but she and the many little Rusks generously welcomed him into their home. Mr. Rusk then introduced Frodo to his father, who looked as if he had lived every one of his 117 years and enjoyed them all.

The elder Mr. Rusk was delighted to meet Frodo. He'd often heard Dudo Baggins speak of his family in the north. "He told me all about his brother and sister, and all the cousins he had living up in Hobbiton. He always meant to travel back up to see his family again one day. It's a pity you never met your uncle, Mr. Baggins. A fine fellow he was, and I was proud to call him my friend. What do you want to know about him?"

"Tell me everything you remember, please," Frodo requested.

After dinner, Frodo sat by the parlor fire with the old hobbit and listened to stories about his uncle. Mr. Rusk told him how Dudo had first come to the Downwaters farm as a land manager. "It was another Baggins, a cousin of his who owned a pipeweed plantation nearby, who recommended him to Old Downwaters."

"Not Otho Sackville-Baggins?" It surprised Frodo to learn that one of the Sackville-Bagginses would help a member of his family, but this generosity from Otho had occurred years before Bilbo had adopted him. Fifty years ago Otho might have felt stronger family feelings toward his Baggins relatives.

"That's right," confirmed Mr. Rusk. "Dudo had come down from Hobbiton to manage the plantation for his cousin, but they had some sort of disagreement over the way Dudo was managing things. Dudo left the pipeweed business, but he liked living in this part of the Shire so he offered his services to Old Downwaters for the same sort of work. They'd met before that, since the two were neighbors. Old Downwaters was happy to take Dudo on."

"Is that when my uncle met his wife?"

Mr. Rusk chuckled. "I wasn't there to see it, but I'd guess that Dudo had met Eulilla once or twice before too. That was probably the reason he went to her father when he was looking for work. She was a fine, handsome girl in those days. All the Downwaters girls were. That's when I first met Dudo Baggins myself, when he was courting Eulilla and I was courting her sister Fulida. We saw we were going to be brothers-in-law soon and might as well be friends."

The old hobbit spoke with particular pride of how Baggins and Rusk had begun their business by sending their father-in-laws crops off to market by barge, then expanding to include other local farmers' crops and wares. Things had been going successfully for the two partners, when Dudo had died suddenly in 1398. Like his elder brother Drogo, he had drowned, falling off a barge into the Shirebourne.

"What about his family?" Frodo asked. "What became of them? I've been told there was a daughter. She would be a little older than I am now."

"Yes, dear little… now what was her name?" Old Mr. Rusk shook his head.

"Doriella?" Frodo suggested.

Mr. Rusk mumbled over this name, trying it a few times before he answered, "That could be it. Something like it. I recollect that they called her something shorter. A pretty little miss she was, not more than fifteen when her father died. Poor mite. I remember how the tears came into her eyes when I had to go and tell them what'd happened to Dudo. What happened to them? Well, after he was drowned, Eulilla--that was Dudo's wife--said she couldn't bear to look upon the river anymore. She and the little girl went back to live with her family at Downswater farm. No, she isn't there now, Mr. Baggins. I couldn't tell you if she's living or dead. There was a scandal about a year or two after Dudo passed on. Eulilla ran off to marry a shopkeeper."

"A shopkeeper?" echoed Frodo. "But not from around this part of the Shire?" Surely Eulilla's brother-in-law and late husband's business partner wouldn't have lost touch with her if she were still living near Longbourne.

"No, Mr. Baggins. He was from a place called Tinsdale, off in the hills. A greengrocer, he was. He had dealings with the farmers here like Old Downwaters, and he liked to come into Longbourne to see what sort of things were coming in on the barges from up and down the rivers. He was always interested in crops we don't grow around here--grapes, figs, oranges, that big-eared corn you have up in the Eastfarthing, pumpkins. He'd buy all he could fresh off the barge and cart it back to Tinsdale to sell there. We did some business with him, and he first met Eulilla while Dudo was still living. It wouldn't surprise me if he was taken with her even then. She was handsome woman, I've told you. After poor Dudo was dead and Eulilla had gone back to the farm, he called on her there--paying his respects, he said. I heard all I know about what happened then from my wife's brothers and sisters who were living on the farm too. Their father didn't like this greengrocer calling on one of his daughters. After marrying a gent the first time out, he thought Eulilla could do better for a second husband. Well, Eulilla must've felt differently, for she went off with her greengrocer one day and never wrote to her family after that."

Frodo wondered if he ought to go to the Downswater farm tomorrow. Old Farmer Downswater was surely long dead, but perhaps someone currently living at the farm could tell him more about this ancient family scandal. He asked Mr. Rusk, who negated the idea.

"You won't find anybody there, Mr. Baggins. My own dear wife passed on twenty years ago, but my son keeps up with the family since he still has business dealings with them. The last of Old Downswater's children is gone now and buried in the family vault with him and his Missus. There're plenty of young folk out there now, cousin to my boy, but they would've been children at the time, if they'd been born yet at all. I'm the last one left to remember the old days."

"I suppose my aunt and cousin they might still be in Tinsdale. At least, my cousin might be. What was the greengrocer's name?" Frodo asked. Mr. Rusk was his only resource. He had the name of a village, but he needed more information if he was to trace Eulilla's daughter.

"Mugwomp, or something of the sort," the old hobbit replied after thinking about it for a minute. "Moppit… No, no, it was Mossop."

The next morning after obtaining directions from the innkeeper at Longbourne, Frodo went on to Tinsdale, which lay about twenty miles to the south and west. Tinsdale was a small and isolated village, far from the main Shire roads and rivers, tucked in among the hilly woodlands. Frodo was unsure if the name Mr. Rusk had given him was correct, but hoped it would be close enough that someone would recognize it.

The name was indeed the right one. The Mossops were no longer living, but they were remembered by many of their former neighbors. On the night of his arrival, Frodo spoke to several of these neighbors in the taproom of the only pub in Tinsdale, which was also the only place where he could find lodging. Mr. Ludlo Mossop had once been famous in Tinsdale for his travels far and wide to bring back exotic fruits and vegetables from other parts of the Shire to sell in his shop. The older folk recalled some sort of scandal about Mr. Mossop returning from one of his trips, and unexpectedly bringing home a wife along with his usual carts of produce, but it was all very long ago and no one could tell Frodo the details. The Mossops' greengrocery shop had stood just three doors down the high street from the inn. The shop was still there, but a family named Ruggle kept it now and they were no relation. Yes, the Mossops had had a child. A girl named Daisy.

This last piece of information interested Frodo. Was Daisy Mossop also Doriella, or had the Mossops had another daughter--a half-sister or stepsister to his cousin? It might be a pet name; Mr. Rusk had said that Dudo and Eulilla had called their daughter "something shorter" than Doriella.

He spent the next day making inquiries.

As far as Frodo could discover, there had only been one Mossop child. She seemed to be about the right age to be Dudo's daughter. If Daisy Mossop had been born to Eulilla after her second marriage, the neighbors would be more likely to recall her birth and remember her as a small child. Instead, those who remembered Daisy spoke of a girl in her tweens in the early 1400s. One or two old ladies who still lived near the greengrocery hinted that Eulilla had miscarried or given birth to a stillborn infant soon after she'd come to live in Tinsdale; Frodo surmised that this was the scandal that had led her to sudden elopement with Mr. Mossop and estrangement from her family.

He showed Lad's pictures to everyone who had known Daisy, but their answers were not conclusive. Some thought the drawings looked rather like her. Others said not. So many years had passed since she'd left Tinsdale. When they'd last seen Daisy, she'd been a lass of about thirty, and not a grown woman approaching middle-age.

Eulilla had died in 1412, and Ludlo Mossop followed three years later. Daisy had been keeping company with a lad named Murgo Burbage, who'd been apprenticed to her stepfather. Immediately after her stepfather's death, she and Murgo had married for respectability's sake. They were both living in the same smial behind the shop, and people would gossip terribly if they'd gone on living together without being married. The young couple had continued run the greengrocery by themselves for a little while, but neither possessed Mr. Mossop's taste for exotic produce nor the desire to go out and bring such delicacies back to Tinsdale. Eventually, the shop closed its doors.

Where had they gone? Frodo asked this same question of everyone he interviewed. Only the Ruggles, whom Daisy had sold the shop to, were able to give him any answer. Murgo Burbage had come from a place called Burridge. As far as they knew, he and Daisy had gone back there.

Before he went to bed in the little back room at the Tinsdale pub, Frodo wrote a long letter to Sam, partly about his discoveries so far, but mostly about how much he missed Sam. He promised to come home as soon as he'd traced the true whereabouts of his cousin. He hoped that his visit to Burridge would settle the question one way or the other.

Frodo wasn't entirely sure that Daisy Mossop was in fact Doriella Baggins, especially since the woman who claimed to be his cousin had presented herself by her maiden name instead of as Mrs. Burbage. If that Doriella was his cousin, it was possible that she'd chosen to use her original name to avoid confusing Aunt Dora with convoluted tales of stepfathers and husbands. If the woman was a fraud, then it was equally possible that she'd known or heard of the real Doriella by the name she'd had as a young girl and knew nothing about Doriella's later life.

If someone in Burridge could identify the woman in Lad's drawings as Daisy Burbage, formerly Mossop, then Frodo would be satisfied that she was his cousin. On the other hand, if Mrs. Burbage and her husband were still living in Burridge and could confirm that she was Dudo Baggins's daughter, then the woman now at Bag End was certainly an imposter. If that were the case, then Frodo intended to ask his true cousin to come back with him to Hobbiton to help him convince Aunt Dora that she'd been deceived. He felt sure that the Burridges would cooperate. From all he knew of their history, he doubted that they were wealthy; they would therefore be pleased to learn that they had rights to property in the north. The Bagginses wouldn't like Mrs. Burbage claiming her share of the Old Place any better than they'd liked the supposed Miss Baggins making a claim, but at least they would be sure that she was a relation and that Aunt Dora wasn't being cheated.

---

Burridge lay far to the south of Tinsdale, on valley roads through high hills. Even though it was only the second week of February, spring was already beginning here. Frodo saw many bright flowers in bloom along the roadside, and the trees were putting forth their first green leaves. The hard winter of the northern Shire was forgotten here, if any sleet or snow had touched it at all. A hobbit accustomed to this mild climate would surely sit near the fire and shiver if exposed to such cold weather.

When Frodo finally arrived at his destination and took a room at the Burridge inn, he was greeted by the innkeeper with exclamations of surprise and excitement. His name was well known: Burridge was not many miles from Uphill, and the village had talked of nothing but Frodo's investigation of the mysterious drowning of Mr. Uphill-Took's secretary the winter before last. Before that, they had listened eagerly for news about the missing Mrs. Budling, and how Frodo had found her safe and sound.

"Oh, we know all about you, Mr. Baggins, though you never set foot in our little village before," the innkeeper, Mr. Chodely, informed Frodo with glee. "You're a very famous hobbit! 'Tis an honor to have you stopping at our house. And what brings you to Burridge, sir? There's been nobody murdered hereabouts, and nobody's gone missing."

Once Frodo had explained his errand, Mr. Chodely called out, "Posey!" to summon a cheerful-faced woman wearing an apron and kerchief. "Posey my love, here's Mr. Baggins, the famous detective. You'll never guess--he's asking after the Burbages."

"Do you know them, Mrs. Chodely?" Frodo asked; from the way Mr. Chodely spoke to her, he assumed she must be his wife.

Posey did not correct him, but answered once she had bobbed a curtsey, "Goodness, Mr. Baggins--everybody in Burridge knew the Burbages. They were our neighbors, and kept a shop just down the way."

"A greengrocery?"

"No, bless you, sir. Doriella Burbage used to say she could never abide the sight of greens and vegetables getting old in their bins."

"They sold pots and crockery," Mr. Chodely added helpfully.

"Doriella?" Frodo grew hopeful at hearing this name resurface. "I thought she was called Daisy."

"Murgo called her that from time to time, sir," Mrs. Chodely explained. "But 'twas only a pet name, as married couples are like to do. Her right name was Doriella, and that's what her friends all called her."

"And where are the Burbages now? Do they still live here?" He had noted that the Chodelies both spoke of the Burbages in the past tense.

"They died, sir, this winter past," Mr. Chodely informed him with a note of apology.

"'Twas a fever," his wife added. "Murgo took it first, just before Yule, and poor Doriella afterwards. Having no strength left, after sitting up night and day nursing him, she died about a week later. They're both in the Burbage family vault if you've a mind to see it, sir."

"Here, you don't think they was murdered, do you, Mr. Baggins?" asked Mr. Chodely, keeping in mind who he was speaking to. "That's not what you've come for, to look into them dying so quick together like that?"

"Oh, no," Frodo quickly assured the couple. "Nothing of the sort. I was hoping to locate Mrs. Burbage. She was my cousin." He felt a little pang of sadness for a kinswoman he'd never known, and would never know now. He would go and visit the Burbage family vault before he headed home tomorrow. At last, he was sure that Doriella Burbage had been his uncle Dudo's daughter, and that the woman at Bag End was not. The Baggins would want to know as soon as possible.

The Chodelies clucked and murmured sympathetically. "I'm very sorry, sir," Mrs. Chodely said, then asked a question that took Frodo completely by surprise. "Then it's the children you've come about?"

"The children?" Frodo echoed. "They had children?"

"Of course, sir, a little lad and lass. Eudo and Eudora."

"Where are they?"

"They aren't here now," answered Mr. Chodely. "Miss Marda Burbage, that's Mungo's sister, took them off with her just after their mother was buried. She said as they had some wealthy relatives who lived up in the Westfarthing and the little ones had some money coming to them. Gentlehobbits, we took her to mean."

"Doriella used to say her father'd come from the gentry," Mrs. Chodely contributed, and looked Frodo up and down. "She must've meant you."

"Yes, I suppose so." Frodo reached into his waistcoat inner pocket for the pictures, knowing that the identification of the woman Lad had drawn was a mere formality now. He showed them to the couple. "Tell me, is that Miss Marda Burbage?"

It was. The Chodelies would know Marda anywhere. But how did Mr. Baggins happen to have pictures of her like that?

"I've seen her before. I've seen the children too," Frodo explained. As he returned the drawings to his pocket, he laughed. "As a matter of fact, we spent a night at the same inn on my way south and I didn't know it until now!"

Early the next morning, Frodo set out on the long ride north. Within three days, he was back at the Greenhill Inn. He immediately spoke to the innkeeper there, and was relieved to learn that the woman with the young boy and girl hadn't departed. What was their name? Burbage, said the innkeeper; that was the name another woman with the party had given him when they'd first arrived. She was now gone.
Since it was late in the afternoon, Frodo waited until the trio emerged for their evening meal, then intercepted them in the corridor outside the dining room.

"Are you Miss Burbage?" he asked the woman, although he was certain that she was not. She was much older than the woman posing as his cousin and, as he had noted when he'd glimpsed her last week, her apron and deferential manner indicated that she was more likely to be a maidservant than a member of the family.

"No, sir," she answered, and gave him a curtsey. "My name's Mrs. Odlum."

"But you are employed by her?"

"Not 'employed' as such, sir. I was cook to old Mr. and Mrs. Burbage, and kept up with Miss Marda and her brother. She asked me to come along with her and look after the little uns here while she was off in Hobbiton."

"Do you expect her to return soon?" asked Frodo.

"Aunt Marda said she'd come back to fetch us," the little girl informed Frodo. She was a thin and wan-looking child with mousy curls and a turned-up nose, and had been regarding him with frank curiosity since he'd first spoken. Her brother, also mousy but taller and more plump, was a little more shy.

"She's been gone awhile now," Mrs. Odlum answered the question. "It's been near two weeks. But Miss Marda told me she had some business to tend to with some rich relations up Hobbiton-way. I was to wait for word from her, or else she'd come for us, just as Miss Eudora says. She left me some money to pay for our room here, and to see the little lad 'n' lass had enough to eat." She clutched her apron and appeared anxious as she spoke; Frodo guessed that she hadn't heard from Marda Burbage since they'd been left at the inn and was beginning to worry. "And who're you, sir?" she asked. "Are you a friend o' hers? She didn't send you here after us."

"No, she doesn't know I'm here. But it's quite all right--I'm the children's uncle." Frodo smiled at them, and received a smile from Eudora in return. "I think it's time they met some of their other relatives in Hobbiton."

---

Sam was caught by surprise when Frodo returned unexpectedly to Bag End late the next morning, bringing a middle-aged woman and two young children with him. "I got your letter the day before yesterday," he said as Frodo ushered the group into the front sitting room. "You didn't say you'd be bringing company."

"I didn't know I would be," Frodo answered. "I'm sorry, Sam. There wasn't time to write and tell you. We would arrive before the next post."

"Who're they?"

"My cousin's children. Sam, may I present Master Eudo Burbage, and his sister, Miss Eudora. And this is Mrs. Odlum, who's been looking after them. Mrs. Odlum, children, this is my dear friend, Mr. Gamgee."

The children had grown less shy of Frodo after learning that he was a relative of their mother's, and he had made special efforts to befriend them since. Now, in a strange place and meeting new people, they were timid and wary again. They'd been brought up with sufficient manners to mumble the usual courtesies to Sam at being introduced, but their primary interest was in their surroundings and the even younger pair of children, Elanor and little Frodo, who had come into the room to see what was going on.

"Are you our cousins?" Eudo asked them.

"You said we had cousins, Uncle Frodo," his sister added.

"These are Mr. Gamgee's children," Frodo replied. "You'll be meeting your cousins later today. Remember what I told you about them over dinner last night? They're around your own age. Myrtle Burrows is thirteen, and her brother Minto is ten. There are two older boys too, Mosco and Moro."

After being away for over a week, Frodo would've liked to greet Sam with a hug and kiss, but there were children and servants all around and, in the midst of all this commotion, Sam didn't appear to be in a kissing mood. Kisses would have to wait; there was a great deal that must be done today. Arrangements and explanations must come first.

Frodo began by speaking to the nursery-maid, who had come after Elanor and his namesake with one of the twins on her hip. "Fern, we'll need to find beds for our visitors. Can you and Hazel see that the little room on the other side of the nursery and the guest room just across the hall are made ready for them? Nellie my love, will you be a dear and show Eudo and Eudora your nursery? They can leave their things there for now and wash up before lunch." Meals were the next matter to be addressed. "Mrs. Parmiggen," he turned to the cook, who was peeking in from the kitchen, "you see that I'm back and have brought guests. Can you manage four more for luncheon on such brief notice? Wonderful! And I must warn you that I plan to invite several of my relatives to Bag End this afternoon for tea. Mrs. Odlum, if you'll please go into the kitchen, I'm sure Mrs. Parmiggen will be happy to give you a nice, hot cup of tea right now."

Sam looked even more bewildered by Frodo's instructions to the servants, but he had grasped the essential point. "How long're they staying with us?" he asked once the children had been taken to the nursery and Mrs. Odlum had joined Mrs. Parmiggen in the kitchen with an offer to give a hand with the upcoming meals.

"Mrs. Odlum will only be with us for a day or two. She's eager to return to her own home and family in Burridge, and I've promised to send her as soon as things are settled for the children. She only came as far north as Green Hill as a favor to her old friend, Miss Burbage."

"Now who's Miss Burbage? Not that cousin of yours?"

"No," said Frodo. "Not my cousin. It's rather more complicated than that, Sam." He sat down at the sitting-room table.

Sam took a seat near him and leaned close so that the women in the kitchen would not overhear. "Are we taking those little uns in, Frodo?" he asked quietly.

"For tonight, at least," Frodo answered in a matching undertone. "I must talk the matter over with the other Bagginses before we can make more permanent arrangements for them. That woman who calls herself my cousin is no cousin. I traced the true Doriella Baggins to Burridge, as I wrote you in my letter. She died just a month ago, and her husband too. Those children have lost both their parents very suddenly and tragically, Sam. I know what they must be feeling. I was just Eudo's age, you know."

Sam nodded sympathetically, thinking not only of Frodo's parents, but of his own motherless children.

"At least I had the Brandybucks to look after me," Frodo continued. "As far as I could discover, Eudora and Eudo have no near relations in Burridge, except for their aunt--a woman whom I feel sure does not have their best interests at heart. They are my first cousins once removed, exactly the same as Milo's children. I don't know them as well as the Burrowses, but I feel a family responsibility toward them. I realize that it's no easy task taking up the care, education--and feeding!--of two orphaned children, but it must be done. Once I explain things to my family, I'm certain they'll feel as I do. They'll be so pleased to hear that the woman claiming to be Doriella Baggins is a fraud that they'll feel quite generous to the real Doriella's children. If we don't give Eudo and Eudora a home here, they'll find one at the Old Place, or perhaps Ponto and Golda will take them in. We'll settle things this afternoon, when everyone comes to tea. Is Angelica still here? We must invite her, and 'Miss Baggins' too."

The Bagginses, Burrowses, and Angelica Whitfoot and her children arrived in a group just before tea-time. Frodo came down to the front gate to meet his guests. He could see that they were all eager for news about the results of his investigation, but no one dared asked with Miss Baggins and Aunt Dora among them. After Frodo had greeted the party and invited them up to go up into Bag End, where Sam stood waiting at the front door, he detained Angelica.

"Well?" Angelica demanded in a whisper as they walked up the steps behind the others. "What did you find out?"

"I have some good news, and a difficulty we must all discuss together," Frodo murmured. "Tell me--Does Doriella know I've been away?"

"She knows, Frodo, but since you'd just come back from a journey, she didn't take special note of you leaving again so soon. If she suspects it's because you've been investigating her--if that's what you're asking--she keeps it to herself. She hasn't been in the least nervous about it." Angelica gave him a sharp glance. "But it's good news, you say? Then she is a fraud! But who-?"

"Wait, and I'll show you." They went into the entry hall, where the others were shedding their coats and cloaks. With so many hobbits crowded into so small a space and every one of them responding in turn to Sam's welcome, there was a great deal of noise. The younger children were clamoring for treats with their tea. The false Miss Baggins, who had not been to Bag End before, exclaimed over what a charming home it was.

Frodo's voice rose over the commotion, directing them all to go into the best parlor. "Tea will be laid out there shortly," he told them. "I also have some other guests I brought back with me, whom I hope you'll all be pleased to meet." Angelica gave him another sharp and curious glance, but Frodo didn't meet her eyes; he was gesturing to lead the party down the hall.

The parlor door had been left open. Mrs. Odlum sat on the sofa, as instructed, with Eudo on one side and Eudora on the other. Sam's children were also in the room, since their playmates, the young Whitfoots, were expected. When she entered the room with Aunt Dora, Miss Burbage saw the trio on the sofa immediately. She froze in mid-step. Frodo, who stood on Dora's other side, thought his false cousin would have tried to retreat if there weren't so many people in the hall behind them, blocking her escape. Before Miss Burbage could say or do anything, however, Eudora had jumped up from her seat and raced toward her.

"Auntie Marda!" The little girl threw both arms around her aunt's waist.

"Marda?" Porto seized upon the name. "Not Doriella?"

"Why, Dorie, who is this child?" asked Dora. She peered down at the girl clinging to her supposed niece. "Do I know you, my dear?"

"Aunt Dora, this is Eudora Burbage," Frodo explained. "That lad over there on the sofa is her brother. They're your niece Doriella's children--No, not this lady's children. This is Miss Marda Burbage, their father's sister. She's only been posing as Doriella. You can't deny it, Miss Burbage, not after Eudora has identified you by your right name."

Marda didn't try to deny it, nor did she try to free herself from Eudora's enthusiastic embrace. She stood glaring at Mrs. Odlum. "Why did you bring them here?"

"'Twas Mr. Baggins who brought us," Mrs Odlum answered. "I'm sorry, Miss Marda. I didn't know it'd be trouble for you. He said he was the little un's uncle and he was taking us to meet his family."

"He said we had cousins!" Eudo piped up. He had been regarding the Burrows boys hopefully.

"Which is all perfectly true," said Frodo. "Here they are! Eudo, come and meet your cousins. Eudora dear, look--here's your cousin Myrtle and her brothers, and this little girl is Willa." This was enough to make Eudora let go of her aunt. "You'll have a tea party of your own in the parlor across the hall while the grown-ups talk over some boring business in here. Nel-" Elanor been had bouncing around excitedly since the guests had come in, "you can be their hostess, but let someone older pour out the tea."

Elanor was delighted to take charge of the younger party and lead the group of children across the hall, where Hazel and Mrs. Parmiggen were just setting out plates full of sugary cakes. Sam took each of the twins by a hand and went to oversee the pouring of hot liquids. Dora followed him out; she was more interested in making the acquaintance of her new great-niece and nephew than in hearing the truth about the woman who wasn't really her niece.

"Now what's all this about?" Ponto demanded of Marda after the children had gone. "If you're not our cousin, then why have you been calling yourself so?"

"Where is the real Doriella?" asked Peony. "Is there such a person?"

"There was," Frodo said. "She's dead, I'm afraid."

"But those are her children?" asked Angelica. "You're quite sure of it, Frodo?"

"Absolutely. I traced Dudo Baggins' daughter from the town where she was born to the vault where she and her husband were buried just a few weeks ago. It's a long story, which I'll be happy to tell you all later. There was some confusion over her true name--she seems to have called herself Daisy rather than Doriella for a time--but I'm certain that she was my cousin, and so are they." He gestured toward the room across the hall, where the shouts and laughter of children could be heard. "If anyone has a claim upon the Old Place through Uncle Dudo, it is those two children."

He turned to Marda, who had taken a seat on the sofa beside Mrs. Odlum. It had been rather cruel of him to spring a trap on her this way, but she'd meant to deceive his elderly aunt and possibly defraud her young nephew and niece; she deserved what was coming to her.

All she said in reply to Frodo's charges was, "Her father used to call her Daisy. That's what she always told us. Her stepfather adopted her and gave her his last name, but she insisted on being called Daisy as a girl so that she'd have a name that her real father had given her too. And it was what my brother used to call her."

Porto and Ponto sputtered at this irrelevancy, but Frodo asked her, "What did she tell you about the Bagginses?"

"It was you she talked about," Marda told him. "The famous detective. We first heard about you in Burridge when Mrs. Budling went missing and you found her. Then when we heard about that awful business with the Uphill-Tooks, Dorie started hinting that she was related to the fine folk there somehow. I thought she meant the Tooks, but she told Murgo and me later on that you must be a cousin of hers. Her father's name was Baggins and he'd come from Hobbiton, just like you. She said that her father's family was nearly as rich as the Tooks, and she ought to write to you one day and see if she had any money coming to her from a rich old aunt or uncle."

"We aren't as rich as the Tooks," Angelica's mother Golda said modestly. "Not nearly."

"You're all very rich compared to us," Marda responded.

"Is that why you came to Aunt Dora?" asked Angelica.

"For money? Yes!" Marda answered bluntly. "You have so much. Why shouldn't I have some? When my brother and Doriella died, all they left me was a little pottery shop and the children to bring up. I thought of Dorie's rich relatives. Maybe Dorie had something coming to her from her father's people. She thought she did. I didn't know much about them except for the name and a place called Hobbiton. So we left Burridge to see if I could find out more. When we stopped at that inn down the road near Tuckborough, I asked about the Bagginses. I learned about Miss Baggins being Dorie's father's sister and about the Old Baggins Place. I came here by myself. It was easier to say I was Doriella, that's all. The children have a right to a share--you said so yourself, Mr. Baggins."

"They do," Frodo agreed, "but you don't. I wish I could believe you'd come to us for Eudora's and Eudo's sake, Miss Burbage, but if you were honest, you would've brought them here with you in the first place and told my aunt who you really were, instead of leaving them in Mrs. Odlum's care at Green Hill. You never meant for us to know about them, not after you'd introduced yourself as Doriella Baggins. Once you told that lie, you could never tell the truth. What if Aunt Dora did leave you the Old Place? How could you bring the real Doriella's children here to live without explaining who they were? Even if you'd instructed the children to call you Mother, one was bound to slip up sooner or later and give the trick away."

"I never meant to live here."

"What then? Would you take whatever Aunt Dora gave you and settle somewhere else? Would the children see any of their inheritance, I wonder?"

"Yes, of course!" Marda insisted.

"Eventually, perhaps," Milo said dryly.

Several other members of the family looked as if they were itching to make even nastier remarks, but Frodo didn't want this scene to become a barrage of insults. He meant to keep to the point: What was to be done with the imposter now that she'd been exposed? He'd discussed this question with Sam before the Bagginses and Burrowses had come, and had decided how to deal with her most effectively.

"Miss Burbage, I will give you some money," he told her. "Not as much as you might've been hoping for, but it must do. Mrs. Odlum wishes to go back to Burridge as soon as possible, and you'll go with her. I'll pay for your journey. It's too late for you to leave tonight, so after you have your tea, you'll go back to the Old Place to pack your things and be ready to make your departure from the stable yard at the Ivy Bush Inn first thing in the morning. I'll send you something regularly hereafter to see that you aren't left in want, and to ensure that you don't trouble my aunt again."

Marda Burbage drank her tea, but she had little appetite for the dainties served with it. The other guests ate more heartily, but gloated over their victory silently. The chief conversation was further discussion of what was to be done with the children.

"What about the little uns?" Mrs. Odlum spoke up after the tea was brought in. "I said I wanted to go home, Mr. Baggins, but I can't 'til I know they're going to be proper looked after."

"They will be," Frodo promised her.

"We'll look after them," Peony added impulsively.

"There's plenty of room at the Red Doors," Golda offered. "We've missed having a child about the house since Angelica left us, haven't we, Ponto?"

Frodo also spoke of his plans for Marda and Mrs. Odlum's journey back to Burridge. The coach he had hired to bring Mrs. Odlum and children from Green Hill was still at the Ivy Bush inn; he would place it at the two women's disposal and engage the coachman to convey them home, and provide enough pocket money for their meals and lodging along the way. When Milo suggested that it might be more convenient for them to stay at the inn tonight, and that he would be happy to pay for their room, Marda did not object. Mrs. Odlum, who hadn't yet unpacked her bags, was ready to leave with her friend once they'd made their farewells to Eudora and Eudo.

"Can I say goodbye to my own brother's children?" Marda asked stiffly.

"Yes, of course," said Frodo.

"And what about Miss Baggins? She's been very kind to me."

"More kind than you deserve," Angelica murmured.

"You can say goodbye to my aunt," Frodo granted this request. "But I hope you won't say anything to upset her. Simply tell her you're sorry, and you must go."

Marda accepted this. "Will you let me see my niece and nephew sometime?" Her tone implied that she considered herself the person being wronged.

"Certainly, if you wish," Frodo told her, meaning to put a stop to these injured airs. "I wouldn't like to separate the children from their aunt. Eudora especially seems fond of you. Write to me when you want to visit them, and I'll bring them to you." He privately wondered if he would ever hear from her.

Marda set down her empty teacup and rose to cross the hall to the other parlor. Mrs. Odlum followed her.

As soon as they'd gone, Angelica clapped her hands. "Frodo, that was wonderful! You put that awful liar and cheat in her place."

"It was impressive," Milo agreed.

"I always thought you were peculiar and flighty, like old Uncle Bilbo," Porto admitted grudgingly, "but you've got some good Baggins common sense about you after all, my lad. You might make a fine head to the family one day."

Frodo was taken aback by these compliments; he'd only done what he thought was right.

"Do you truly think it was wise to pay that woman?" asked Ponto.

"Of course it was, Papa," Angelica responded. "Otherwise, how can we be sure once Frodo sends her off that she won't come back again next year and disturb poor Aunt Dora again? She'll have to behave herself as long as she's paid. She knows it's the only money she'll see from us."

"I'm afraid Auntie will need closer care and attention after this," Peony said sadly. "Golda, are you certain it won't be a trouble to you taking in those children?"

"Not at all!" her sister-in-law insisted. "It's the best solution. You have your own children and poor Auntie to think of, Frodo has his gardener's children, and Angelica will have her hands full once the baby is born. Who do I have to look after? Only a husband! Angelica's old bedroom is already furnished for a young girl's tastes. It only wants a dusting and fresh linens. We can put the boy in that guest room we hardly ever have guests in."

Her husband Ponto had been less enthusiastic about the idea, but once he saw that Golda was eager to bring a child or two into their home, he agreed that they would be welcome.

"What if Aunt Dora wants to leave the Old Place to one of them one day?" Milo asked, half-joking.

"Well, it isn't as if they're outsiders, my dear. They our family--Bagginses if all but name, and now that they're here in Hobbiton, they'll only become closer to us as they grow up," said Peony, matching her husband's tone. "Who knows? Twenty years from now, one of our boys might end up marrying that sweet little girl, or else Myrtle-"

The conversation stopped suddenly when Marda emerged from the room across the hall. Milo offered to escort her back to the Old Place to gather her belongings, and then see her and Mrs. Odlum to the inn. The rest of the party also prepared to disperse; the afternoon was closing in to dusk. Golda asked Frodo if she might stay to dinner so that she and the children could get to know each other better before she invited them to live at Red Doors.

Dora came out of the second parlor on Sam's arm. She seemed agitated, and Frodo was worried that Doriella had said something to upset her after all.

But Dora soon explained what was distressing her. "Oh, my dear--Dorie says she's going away!"

"Yes, Auntie," Frodo answered. "But she isn't Doriella, you know."

"She said goodbye to the children. She means to leave them here! I don't understand--how can she think of going from the Old Place after I've told her to call it her home, and leave her dear little children behind?"

"They aren't her children, Aunt Dora," said Peony gently.

"But Frodo said they were. Doriella's own children."

"She isn't Doriella," Frodo tried again. "Doriella-" then he gave it up. Peony was quite right about Dora needing more care in future. She would always think of Marda Burbage as her niece; to force the truth upon her, with the additional fact that her real niece was dead, would only confuse and upset her. That was something he wasn't willing to do. The danger was removed; that was the most important thing. "Doriella had to go, Auntie. She won't be back again."