"MEN MUST WORK WHILE WOMEN MUST WEEP"
Janice brought the letter indoors to read by the light of the kitchen
lamp. Her heart fluttered, for she feared that it was something about
Nelson. The Drugg domicile was almost across the street from the
Beaseley cottage and the girl did not know but that 'Rill had been
delegated to tell her something of moment about the young schoolmaster.
Marty, too, was eagerly curious. "Hey, Janice! what's the matter?" he
whispered, at her shoulder.
"Mr. Drugg has to be away this evening and she is afraid to stay in the
house and store alone. She wants me to come over and spend the night
with her. May I, Auntie?"
"Of course, child--go if you like," Aunt 'Mira said briskly. "You've
been before."
Twice Mr. Drugg had been away buying goods and Janice had spent the
night with 'Rill and little Lottie.
"Though what protection I could be to them if a burglar broke in, I'm
sure I don't know," Janice had said, laughingly, on a former occasion.
She went upstairs to pack her handbag rather gravely. She was glad to
go to the Drugg place to remain through the night. She would be near
Nelson Haley! Somehow, she felt that being across the street from the
schoolmaster would be a comfort.
When she came downstairs Marty had his hat and coat on. "I'll go
across town with ye--and carry the bag," he proposed. "Going to the
reading room, anyway."
"That's nice of you, Marty," she said, trying to speak in her usual
cheery manner.
Janice was rather glad it was a moonless evening as she walked side by
side with her cousin down Hillside Avenue. It was one of the first
warm evenings of the Spring and the neighbors were on their porches, or
gossiping at the gates and boundary fences.
What about? Ah! too well did Janice Day know the general subject of
conversation this night in Polktown.
"Come on, Janice," grumbled Marty. "Don't let any of those old cats
stop you. They've all got their claws sharpened up."
"Hush, Marty!" she begged, yet feeling a warm thrill at her heart
because of the boy's loyalty.
"There's that old Benny Thread!" exploded Marty, as they came out on
the High Street. "Oh! he's as important now as a Billy-goat on an
ash-heap. You'd think, to hear him, that he'd stole the coins
himself--only he didn't have no chance't. He and Jack Besmith wouldn't
ha' done a thing to that bunch of money--no, indeed!--if they'd got
hold of it."
"Why, Marty!" put in Janice; "you shouldn't say that." Then, with
sudden curiosity, she added: "What has that drug clerk got to do with
the janitor of the school building?"
"He's Benny's brother-in-law. But Jack's left town, I hear."
"He's gone with Trimmins and Narnay into the woods," Janice said
thoughtfully.
"So _he's_ out of it," grumbled Marty. "Jack went up to Massey's the
other night to try to get his old job back, and Massey turned him out
of the store. Told him his breath smothered the smell of iodoform in
the back shop," and Marty giggled. "That's how Jack come to get a pint
and wander up into our sheep fold to sleep it off."
"Oh, dear, Marty," sighed Janice, "this drinking in Polktown is getting
to be a dreadful thing. See how Walky Dexter was to-night."
"Yep."
"Everything that's gone wrong lately is the fault of Lem Parraday's
bar."
"Huh! I wonder?" questioned Marty. "Guess Nelse Haley won't lay _his_
trouble to liquor drinking."
"No? I wonder----"
"Here's the library building, Janice," interrupted the boy. "Want me
to go any further with you?"
"No, dear," she said, taking the bag from him. "Tell Aunt 'Mira I'll
be home in the morning in time enough to dress for church."
"Aw-right."
"And, Marty!"
"Yep?" returned he, turning back.
"I see there's a light in the basement of the library building. What's
going on?"
"We fellers are holding a meeting," said Marty, importantly. "I called
it this afternoon. I don't mind telling you, Janice, that we're going
to pass resolutions backing up Mr. Haley--pass him a vote of
confidence. That's what they do in lodges and other societies. And if
any of the fellers renege tonight on this, I'll--I'll--Well, I'll show
'em somethin'!" finished Marty, very red in the face and threatening as
he dived down the basement steps.
"Oh, well," thought Janice, encouraged after all. "Nelson has some
loyal friends."
She came to the store on the side street without further incident. She
looked across timidly at Nelson's windows. A lamp burned dimly there,
so she knew he was at home.
Indeed, where would he go--to whom turn in his trouble? Aside from an
old maiden aunt who had lent him enough of her savings to enable him to
finish his college course, Nelson had no relatives alive. He had no
close friend, either young or old, but herself, Janice knew.
"Oh, if daddy were only home from Mexico!" was her unspoken thought, as
she lifted the latch of the store door.
There were no customers at this hour; but it was Hopewell Drugg's
custom to keep the store open until nine o'clock every evening, and
Saturday night until a much later hour. Every neighborhood store must
do this to keep trade.
"I'm so glad to see you, Janice," 'Rill proclaimed, without coming from
behind the counter. "You'll stay?"
"Surely. Don't you see my bag?" returned Janice gaily. "Is Mr. Drugg
going to be away all night?"
"He--he could not be sure. It's another dance," 'Rill said, rather
apologetically. "He feels he must play when he can. Every five
dollars counts, you know, and Hopewell is sure that Lottie will have to
go back to the school."
"Where is the dance?" asked Janice gravely. "Down at the Inn?"
"Yes," replied the wife, quite as seriously, and dropping her gaze.
"Oh! I hear my Janice! I hear my Janice Day!" cried Lottie's sweet,
shrill voice from the rear apartment and she came running out into the
store to meet the visitor.
"Have a care! have a care, dear!" warned 'Rill. "Look where you run."
Janice, seeing more clearly from where she stood in front of the
counter, was aware that the child ran toward her with her hands
outstretched, and with her eyes tightly closed--just as she used to do
before her eyes were treated and she had been to the famous Boston
physician.
"Oh, Lottie dear!" she exclaimed, taking the little one into her arms.
"You will run into something. You will hurt yourself. Why don't you
look where you are going?"
"I _do_ look," Lottie responded pouting. Then she wriggled all her ten
fingers before Janice's face. "Don't you see my lookers? I can
see--oh! so nicely!--with my fingers. You know I always could, Janice
Day."
'Rill shook her head and sighed. It was plain the bride was a very
lenient stepmother indeed--perhaps too lenient. She loved Hopewell
Drugg's child so dearly that she could not bear to correct her. Lottie
had always had her own way with her father; and matters had not
changed, Janice could see.
"Mamma 'Rill," Lottie coaxed, patting her step-mother's pink cheek,
"you'll let me sit up longer, 'cause Janice is here--won't you?"
Of course 'Rill could not refuse her. So the child sat there, blinking
at the store lights like a little owl, until finally she sank down in
the old cushioned armchair behind the stove and fell fast asleep.
Occasionally customers came in; but between whiles Janice and the
storekeeper's wife could talk.
The racking "clump, clump, clump," of a big-footed farm horse sounded
without and a woman's nasal voice called a sharp:
"Whoa! Whoa, there! Now, Emmy, you git aout and hitch him to that
there post. Ain't no ring to it? Wal! I don't see what Hope Drugg's
thinkin' of--havin' no rings to his hitchin' posts. He ain't had none
to that one long's I kin remember."
"Here comes Mrs. Si Leggett," said 'Rill to Janice. "She's a
particular woman and I am sorry Hopewell isn't here himself. Usually
she comes in the afternoon. She is late with her Saturday's shopping
this time."
"Take this basket of eggs--easy, now, Emmy!" shrilled the woman's
voice. "Handle 'em careful--handle 'em like they _was_ eggs!"
A heavy step, and a lighter step, on the porch, and then the store door
opened. The woman was tall and raw-boned. She wore a sunbonnet of
fine green and white stripes. Emmy was a lanky child of fourteen or
so, with slack, flaxen hair and a perfectly colorless face.
"Haow-do, Miz' Drugg," said the newcomer, putting a large basket of
eggs carefully on the counter. "What's Hopewell givin' for eggs
to-day?"
"Just what everybody else is, Mrs. Leggett. Twenty-two cents. That's
the market price."
"Wal--seems ter me I was hearin' that Mr. Sprague daowntown was
a-givin' twenty-three," said the customer slowly.
"Perhaps he is, Mrs. Leggett. But Mr. Drugg cannot afford to give even
a penny above the market price. Of course, either cash or trade--just
as you please."
"Wal, I want some things an' I wasn't kalkerlatin' to go 'way daowntown
ter-night--it's so late," said Mrs. Leggett.
'Rill smiled and waited.
"Twenty-two's the best you kin do?" queried the lanky woman querulously.
"That is the market price."
"Wal! lemme see some cheap gingham. It don't matter abeout the
pattern. It's only for Emmy here, and it don't matter what 'tis that
covers her bones' long's it does cover 'em. Will this fade?"
"I don't think so," Mrs. Drugg said, opening the bolt of goods so that
the customer could get at it better.
Janice watched, much amused. The woman pulled at the piece one way,
and then another, wetting it meantime and rubbing it with her fingers
to ascertain if the colors were fast. She was apparently unable to
satisfy herself regarding it.
Finally she produced a small pair of scissors and snipped off a tiny
piece and handed it to Emmy. "Here, Emmy," she said, "you spit aout
that there gum an' chew on this here awhile ter see if it fades any."
Janice dodged behind the post to hide the expression of amusement that
she could not control. She wondered how 'Rill could remain so placid
and unruffled.
Emmy took the piece of goods, clapped it into her mouth with the most
serious expression imaginable, and went to work. Her mother said:
"Ye might's well count the eggs, Miz' Drugg. I make 'em eight dozen
and ten. I waited late for the rest of the critters ter lay; but they
done fooled me ter-day--for a fac'!"
Emmy having chewed on the gingham to her mother's complete
satisfaction, Mrs. Leggett finished making her purchases and they
departed. Then 'Rill and her guest could talk again. Naturally the
conversation almost at the beginning turned upon Nelson Haley's trouble.
"It is terrible!" 'Rill said. "Mr. Moore and those others never could
have thought what they were doing when they accused Mr. Haley of
stealing."
"They were afraid that they would have to make good for the coins, and
felt that they must blame somebody," Janice replied with a sigh.
"Of course, Hopewell went right over to tell the schoolmaster what he
thought about it as soon as the story reached us. Hopewell thinks
highly of the young man, you know."
"Until this thing happened, I thought almost everybody thought highly
of him," said Janice, with a sob.
"Oh, my dear!" cried 'Rill, tearful herself, "there is such gossip in
Polktown. So many people are ready to make ill-natured and untruthful
remarks about one----"
Janice knew to what secret trouble the storekeeper's wife referred. "I
know!" she exclaimed, wiping away her own tears. "They have talked
horridly about Mr. Drugg."
"It is untruthful! It is unfair!" exclaimed Hopewell Drugg's wife, her
cheeks and eyes suddenly ablaze with indignation. To tell the truth,
she was like an angry kitten, and had the matter not been so serious,
Janice must have laughed at her.
"They have told all over town that Hopewell came home intoxicated from
that last dance," continued the wife. "But it is a story--a wicked,
wicked story!"
Janice was silent. She remembered what she and Marty and Mrs.
Scattergood had seen on the evening in question--how Hopewell Drugg had
looked as he staggered past the street lamp on the corner on his way
home with the fiddle under his arm.
She looked away from 'Rill and waited. Janice feared that the poor
little bride would discover the expression of her doubt in her eyes.