"NO ODOR OF GASOLINE!"
During the winter now passed, Janice had watched the progress of the
new school under Nelson Haley's administration with growing confidence
in that young man. Nelson was advancing as well as his pupils and the
school discipline. Educators from other towns in the state--even in
neighboring states--had come to visit Poketown's school.
Janice could not help having a thrill of pride when she learned of
these visitations and the appreciation shown by other educators of
Nelson Haley's work. She did not so often see the young man in a
situation where they could talk these wonders over; for Nelson was
very, very busy and gave both his days and evenings to the work he had
set for himself the fall before.
The girl might no longer honestly complain of Nelson's lack of purpose.
He had "struck his gait" it seemed; it was as though he had suddenly
seen a mark before him and was pressing onward to that goal at top
speed.
When he and Janice met as they did, of course, at church and
occasionally at evening parties, the teacher and the girl were the very
best of friends. But tête-à-têtes were barred. Was it by Janice
herself? Or had Nelson deliberately changed his attitude toward her?
Sometimes she tried to unravel this mystery; but then, before she had
gone far in her ruminations, she began to wonder if she _wanted_ Nelson
to change toward her? That question frightened her, and she would at
once refuse to face the situation at all!
Once Nelson told her that a small college in middle Massachusetts
offered a line of work that he believed he would like to take up--if he
was "doomed to the profession of teaching, after all."
"And does the doom seem so very terrible?" she asked him, laughingly.
"I admit that I can _do_ things with the scholars," he said, gravely.
"I have just begun to realize it. It seems easy for me to make them
understand. But the profession doesn't give one the freedom that the
law does, for instance."
Janice had made no further comment, nor did Nelson advance anything
more regarding the work offered by the college in question.
She had her own intense interests, now and then. Clean-Up Day was past
but its effect in Poketown was ineradicable. Janice was satisfied that
there were enough people finally awake in the town to surely, if
slowly, revolutionize the place.
How could one householder drop back into the old, shiftless, careless
manner of living when his neighbors' places on either hand were so
trim? The carelessly-kept shop showed up a hundred per cent. worse
than it had before Clean-Up Day. Even old Bill Jones kept in some
trim, and the meat markets began to rival each other in cleanliness.
The taxpayers began to speak with pride of Poketown. When they visited
Middletown, or other villages that had previously looked down on the
hillside hamlet above the lake, they were apt to say:
"Just come over and see our town. What? You ain't been in Poketown in
two years? No wonder you don't know what you're talking about! Why,
we put it all over you fellows here for clean streets, and shops, and
nice-lookin' lawns and all that--and our school!"
Poketownites were proud of the reading-room, too, although Mr. Massey's
store was becoming a cramped place for it now. The shelves devoted to
the circulating library were well crowded. The state appropriation had
been spent carefully, and the new, well-bound books looked "mighty
handsome" when visitors came into the place.
But the original intention for the place had never been lost sight of.
It had been made for the boys and young men of Poketown. They had
fully appreciated it, and, Elder Concannon's prophecy to the contrary
notwithstanding, the reading-room was never the scene of disorderly
conduct.
Janice hoped the day would come when the reading-room association
should have a building of its own,--not an expensive, ornate structure
for which the taxpayers would be burdened, and the up-keep of which
would keep the association poor for years; but a snug, warm, cheerful
place which would actually be a club for the boys, and offer all the
other benefits of a free library.
She knew already just where the building ought to stand. There was a
certain empty lot on High Street which would give a library a prominent
site. This lot was owned by old Elder Concannon.
"There've been miracles happened here in Poketown during the last year
or so; if I have patience and wait to strike when the iron's hot, maybe
_that_ miracle will come to pass," Janice told herself.
Elder Concannon had already begun to treat Janice in a much more
friendly way than he had at one time. She believed that secretly he
was interested in the library and reading-room. Sometimes he spent an
hour or so there of an evening--especially if one of the boys would
play checkers with him.
"He's an old nuisance," growled Marty to his cousin, on one occasion.
"He keeps some of the fellers out; they see him in there, with his
grizzly old head and flapping cape-coat, and they stay out till he goes
home. And, by jinks! I'm gittin' tired of being the goat and playin'
draughts with him."
"Marty," she said to him, with some solemnity, "if you saw that through
the Elder's coming there and your entertaining him a bit, the
institution would in the end be vastly benefited, wouldn't you be
_glad_ to play the goat?"
Marty's eyes snapped at her. He drew a long breath, and exclaimed: "Hi
tunket! You don't mean that you've got the old Elder 'on the string'
for us, Janice?"
"It's very rude of you to talk that way," said Janice, smiling. "I
don't know what you mean by having the dear old gentleman 'on a
string.' But I tell you in secret, Marty, that I _do_ hope he will be
so much interested in the reading-room and library that some day he
will give the association something very much worth while. He can
afford it, for he hasn't chick nor child in the world."
"Ye don't mean it?" gasped Marty.
"But I _do_ mean it. Why not? Do you suppose the old gentleman comes
into the reading-room without being interested in it?"
"Say!" drawled her cousin. "I'll be the goat all right, all right!"
Janice was indeed cultivating the old Elder's acquaintance. She would
not have done it to benefit herself in any way; but to help the
library----
"You young folks need a balance wheel," Elder Concannon once said to
Janice. "Youthful enthusiasm is all very well; but where's your
balance?"
"Then why don't you come in with us and supply the balance?" she
rejoined, briskly. "Goodness knows, Elder, we'd be glad to have you!"
Then came a red-letter day for Janice Day. She had almost lost hope of
getting her "heart's desire"--the little motor car that Daddy had
spoken of. Although his letters had been particularly cheerful of
late, he had said nothing more about his promise.
Marty brought her home a thick letter from the post office and gave it
to her at the dinner table. When she eagerly slit the flap of the
envelope and pulled out the contents, there was flirted out upon the
tablecloth a queer-looking certificate.
"Hullo! what's this?" demanded Marty, with all the impudence of a boy.
"Put that down, Marty," commanded his mother.
"By jinks! What's this in the corner?" he yelled. "A thousand
dollars? _A thousand dollars_! Janice Day! you're as rich as cream!"
"Hi tunket, boy!" ejaculated his father. "Le's see that? It can't be!"
"It is!" shrieked Janice, jumping up and dancing around the room.
"It's for my gasoline run-about! I'm going to have it--I certainly
_am_! Hurray! hurray!" and she kissed her aunt heartily and then
danced another war dance with Marty around the table.
"Wal, I snum!" exclaimed Uncle Jason, still staring at the bit of
paper, which was a Wells-Fargo express check for the sum named.
Janice could scarcely eat any dinner, she was so excited. What was
mere eating to the possession of this check and the knowledge that all
was going well once more with dear Daddy? Her most particular friends
must share the joy with her.
She hurried into her jacket and hat, and ran across town to see Miss
'Rill; for, after all, the little spinster was her dearest and closest
friend in Poketown.
But was this Miss 'Rill--this frantic, wild-eyed creature, hatless and
with her hair flying, who came running down High Street just as Janice
reached the corner of the street on which Hopewell Drugg's store was
situated? _Could_ it be 'Rill Scattergood?
"Oh, Janice! Janice! have you heard about it? They just sent for me,"
gasped the little spinster lady.
"What do you mean, 'Rill? _Who_ sent for you?" Janice demanded.
"It's poor little Lottie!" cried the other, dragging Janice along with
her. "She's fallen. I've been expecting it. She moves so quickly,
you know, in spite of her blindness. And now she's fallen into the
cellar----"
"Whose cellar? Oh! is she very, very badly hurt?" cried Janice,
equally anxious.
"Hopewell had the trap door open. She came running into the shop and
went straight down on her poor little head! Oh! she's all cut and
bruised----"
Miss 'Rill could say no more. Nor did Janice need to ask, for they
were at the store and pushing through the little group of helpless but
sympathizing neighbors. Dr. Poole was already there. They had Lottie
in bed, all bandaged and white.
"Just a bad cut over the forehead--right across the crown," Dr. Poole
assured the waiting neighbors. "She's had a bad shock, but she's in no
particular danger. Only----"
He looked at Janice and shook his head. Then he whispered to her:
"It's a terrible shame Hopewell can't send the poor little thing to a
specialist and have her eyes fixed up. My soul and body, girl! if I'd
only been able to go in for surgery myself--If I'd only learned to use
the knife!" and he groaned, shook his head, did this old-school family
practitioner, and departed.
Janice did not remain long. Miss 'Rill would sit by the child for the
remainder of the afternoon; and even her mother was anxious to help and
promised to come over and stay all night at Hopewell's.
"I ain't got nothin' ag'in the poor child, that's sure," Mrs.
Scattergood told Janice. "It's only Hopewell that's so triflin'--he
an' his fiddle. Jest like his father before him!"
But the storekeeper's fiddle was silent a good deal of the time how;
only when Miss 'Rill or Janice urged him did the man take up the
instrument that had once been so much his comfort--and little Lottie's
delight.
But now, on this sorrowful afternoon, Janice went back slowly toward
home with a very serious mind indeed. On the way she met Nelson Haley
coming from school.
"Congratulations--and then some!" he cried, shaking hands with Janice.
"Whatever are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled.
"Marty has been telling everybody the great and good news!" he said,
staring at her. "Why! what makes you so solemn? Do you mean to say
that you can't decide what kind of an auto to buy, and that is what has
soured our Janice's usually sweet disposition?"
"Oh, Nelson!" gasped the girl, suddenly clinging to his arm, for she
really felt a weakness in her knees.
"Hold on! hold on! bear up! What's the matter?"
"I forgot about poor Daddy's check. Of course--that's the way out."
"What's the way out?" he demanded.
"Haven't you heard about poor little Lottie?"
"What's happened to her?" he asked, anxiously.
She told him swiftly. Then stopped. He demanded:
"What's that got to do with the auto, Janice?"
"Don't you see it has _everything_ to do with it, Nelson?" she
returned, gravely. "Of course, I could not buy a car when Lottie needs
some of my money so much. She shall start for Boston just as soon as
she is well enough to go--and of course Miss 'Rill will go with her.
Hopewell cannot leave the store. Lottie shall go to the specialist,
Nelson."
For a minute the school-teacher was silent. He looked at the girl's
shining, earnest face in a way she had never noticed before. But at
last he only smiled a little queerly, and said:
"Why-- Well, Janice Day, there's no odor of gasoline about _that_!"