IN DOUBT
The first of all feminine prerogatives is the right to change one's
mind. Janice Day changed hers a dozen times about that five dollar
gold piece.
It was at last decided, however, by the young girl that she would not
immediately take Nelson Haley into her confidence. Why excite hope in
his mind only, perhaps, to have it crushed again? Better learn all she
could about the gold coin that had rolled out of Jim Narnay's pocket,
before telling the young schoolmaster.
In her heart Janice did not believe Narnay was the person who had
stolen the coin collection from the schoolhouse. He might have taken
part in such a robbery, at night, and while under the influence of
liquor; but he never would have had the courage to do such a thing by
daylight and alone.
Narnay might be a companion of the real criminal; but more likely,
Janice believed, he was merely an accessory after the fact.
This, of course, if the gold piece should prove to be one of those
belonging to the collection which Mr. Haley was accused of stealing.
The coin found in Hopewell Drugg's possession, and which had come to
him through Joe Bodley, might easily have been put into circulation by
the same person as this coin Narnay had dropped. The ten dollar coin
had gone into the tavern till, and this five dollar coin would probably
have gone there, too, had chance not put it in Janice Day's way.
"First of all, I must discover if there was a coin like this one in
that collection," the girl told herself. And early on Monday morning,
on her way to the seminary, she drove around through High Street and
stopped before the drugstore.
Fortunately Mr. Massey was not busy and she could speak to him without
delaying her trip to Middletown.
"What's that?" he asked her, rumpling his topknot in his usual fashion
when he was puzzled or disturbed. "List of them coins? I should say I
did have 'em. The printed list Mr. Hobart left with 'em wasn't taken
by--by--well, by whoever took 'em. Here 'tis."
"You speak," said Janice quickly, "as though you still believed Mr.
Haley to be the thief."
"Well!" and again the druggist's hands went through his hair. "I dunno
what to think. If he done it, he's actin' mighty funny. There ain't
no warrant out for him now. He can leave town--go clean off if he
wants--and nobody will, or can, stop him. And ye'd think if he had all
that money he _would_ do so."
"Oh, Mr. Massey!"
"Well, I'm merely puttin' the case," said the druggist. "That would be
sensible. He's got fifteen hundred dollars or more--if he took the
coin collection. An' it ain't doin' him a 'tarnal bit of good, as I
can see. I told Cross Moore last night that I believe we'd been
barkin' up the wrong tree all this time."
"What did he say?" cried Janice eagerly.
"Well--he didn't _say_. Ye know how Cross is--as tight-mouthed as a
clam with the lockjaw. But it is certain sure that we committeemen
have our own troubles. Mr. Haley was a master good teacher. Ye got to
hand it to him on _that_. And this feller the Board sent us ain't got
no more idea of handling the school than I have of dancing the Spanish
fandango.
"However, that ain't the p'int. What I was speakin' of is this: Nelse
Haley is either a blamed fool, or else he never stole that money," and
the druggist said it with desperation in his tone. "I hear he's took a
job at sixteen a month and board with Elder Concannon--and farmin' for
the elder ain't a job that no boy with money _and_ right good sense
would ever tackle."
"Oh, Mr. Massey! Has he?" for this was news indeed to Janice.
"Yep. That's what he's done. It looks like his runners was scrapin'
on bare ground when he'd do that. Course, I need a feller right in
this store--behind that sody-fountain. And a smart, nice appearin' one
like Nelse Haley would be just the ticket--'nough sight better than
Jack Besmith was. But I couldn't hire the schoolteacher, 'cause it
would create so much talk. But goin' to work on a farm--and for a
slave-driver like the elder--Well!"
Janice understood very well why Nelson had said nothing to her about
this. He was very proud indeed and did not want the girl to suspect
how poor he had really become. Nelson had said he would stay in
Polktown until the mystery of the stolen coin collection was cleared
up--or, at least, until it was proved that he had nothing to do with it.
"And the poor fellow has just about come to the end of his rope,"
thought Janice commiseratingly. "Oh, dear, me! Even if I had plenty
of money, he wouldn't let me help him. Nelson wouldn't take money from
a girl--not even borrow it!"
However, Janice stuck to her text with Massey and obtained the list of
the lost collection to look at. "Dunno what you want it for," said the
druggist. "You going sleuthing for the thief, Miss Janice?"
"Maybe," she returned, with a serious smile.
"I reckon that ten dollar gold piece that Joe Bodley took in at the
hotel was a false alarm."
"If Joe Bodley had told you how he came by it, it would have helped
some, would it not, Mr. Massey?"
"Sure--it might. But he couldn't remember who gave it to him," said
the man, wagging his head forlornly.
"I wonder?" said Janice, using one of her uncle's favorite expressions,
and so made her way out of the store and into her car again. When she
had time that forenoon at the seminary she spread out the sheet on
which the description of the coins was printed, and looked for the note
relating to the five dollar gold piece in her possession.
It was there. It was not a particularly old or a very rare coin,
however. There might be others of the same date and issue in
circulation. So, after all, the fact that Narnay had it proved
nothing--unless she could discover how he came by it--who had given it
to him.
In the afternoon Janice drove home by the Upper Road and ran her car
into Elder Concannon's yard. It was the busy season for the elder, for
he conducted two big farms and had a number of men working for him
besides his regular farm hands.
He was ever ready to talk with Janice Day, however, and he came out of
the paddock now, in his old dust coat and broad-brimmed hat, smiling
cordially at her.
"Come in and have a pot of tea with me," he said. "Ye know I'm partial
to 'old maid's tipple' and Mrs. Grayson will have it ready about now, I
s'pose. Stop! I'll tell her to bring it out on the side porch. It's
shady there. You look like a cup would comfort you, Janice. What's
the matter?"
"I've lots of troubles, Elder Concannon," she said, with a sigh. "But
you have your share, too, so I'll keep most of mine to myself," and she
hopped out from behind the wheel of the automobile.
They went to the porch and the elder halloaed in at the screen door.
His housekeeper soon bustled out with the tray. She remained to take
one cup of tea herself. Then, when she had gone about her duties,
Janice opened the subject upon which she had come to confer.
"How are those men getting on in your wood lot, Elder?"
"What men--and what lot?" he asked smiling.
"I don't know what lot it is; but I mean Mr. Trimmins and those others."
"Oh! Trimmins and Jim Narnay and that Besmith boy?"
"Yes."
"Why, they are moving on slowly. This is their third job with me since
Winter. Once or twice they've kicked over the traces and gone on a
spree----"
"That was when you paid them?"
"That was when I _had_ to pay them," said the elder. "They work pretty
well when they haven't any money."
"Have you paid them lately, Sir?" asked Janice. "I am asking for a
very good reason--not out of curiosity."
"I have not. It's a month and more since they saw the color of my
money. Hold on! that's not quite true," he added suddenly. "I gave
Jim Narnay a dollar Saturday afternoon."
"Oh!"
"He came by here on his way to town. Said he was going down to see his
sick baby. She _is_ sick, isn't she?"
"Oh, yes," murmured Janice. "Poor little thing!"
"Well, he begged for some money, and I let him have a dollar. He said
he didn't want to go down home without a cent in his pocket. So I gave
it to him."
"Only a dollar?" repeated the girl thoughtfully.
The old man's face flushed a little, and he said tartly: "I reckon
_that_ did him no good. By the looks of his face when he went through
here Sunday night he'd proberbly spent it all in liquor, I sh'd say."
"Oh, no! I didn't mean to criticize your generosity," Janice said
quickly. "I believe you gave him more than was good for him. I know
that Mrs. Narnay and the children had little benefit of it."
"That's what I supposed," grunted the elder.
Janice sipped her tea and, looking over the edge of her cup at him,
asked:
"Having much trouble, Elder, with your new man?"
"What new man?" snorted the old gentleman, his mouth screwed up very
tightly.
"I hear you have the school teacher working for you," she said.
"Well! So I have," he admitted, his face suddenly broadening. "Trust
you women folks for finding things out in a hurry. But he ain't
teaching school up here--believe me!"
"No?"
"He's helping clean up my hog lot. I dunno but maybe he thinks it
isn't any worse than managing Polktown boys," and the elder chuckled.
But Janice was serious and she bent forward and laid a hand upon the
old man's arm. "Oh, Elder Concannon! don't be too hard on him, will
you?" she begged.
He grinned at her. "I won't break him all up in business. We want to
use him down town in these meetings we're going to hold for temperance.
He's got a way of talking that convinces folks, Janice--I vow!
Remember how he talked for the new schoolhouse? I haven't forgotten
that, for he beat me that time.
"Now; we can't afford to hire many of these outside speakers for
prohibition--it costs too much to get them here. But I have told Mr.
Haley to brush up his ideas, and by and by we'll have him make a speech
in Polktown. He can practise on the pigs for a while," added the elder
laughing; "and maybe after all they won't be so dif'rent from some of
them in town that I want should hear the young man when he does spout."
So Janice was comforted, and ran down town to the Drugg place in a much
more cheerful frame of mind. Marty was waiting at the store for the
car. There was a special reason for his being so prompt.
"Look-a-here!" he called. "What d'ye know about this?" and he waved
something over his head.
"What is it, Marty Day?" Janice cried, looking at the small object in
wonder.
"Another letter from Uncle Brockey! Hooray! he ain't dead yet!"
shouted the boy.
His cousin seized the missive--fresh from the post-office--and gazed
anxiously at the envelope. It was postmarked in one of the border
towns many days after the report of Juan Dicampa's death; yet the
writing on the envelope was the handwriting of the guerrilla chief.
"Goodness me!" gasped Janice, "what can this mean?"
She broke the seal. As usual the envelope inside was addressed to her
by her father. And as she hastily scanned the letter she saw no
mention made of Juan Dicampa's death. Indeed, Mr. Broxton Day wrote
just as though his own situation, at least, had not changed. And he
seemed to have received most of her letters.
What did it mean? If the guerrilla leader had been shot by the
Federals, how was it possible for her father's letters to still come
along, redirected in Juan Dicampa's hand?
Doubt assailed her mind--many doubts, indeed. Although Mr. Broxton Day
seemed still in safety, the mystery surrounding his situation in Mexico
grew mightily in Janice's mind.
That evening Hopewell Drugg returned from Boston and reported that
Lottie would have to remain under the doctors' care for a time. They,
too, were in doubt. Nobody could yet say whether the child would lose
her sight or not.