THE CITY GIRL
Nelson Haley remained away from Polktown for a fortnight and Janice
had no idea where he had gone. She might possibly have found out by
questioning Mrs. Beasely with whom he boarded; but she could not bring
herself to do that.
They had been such confidential friends--really had been such for
months--that the girl felt hurt by Nelson’s neglect. Yet she could
not absolve herself from all guilt, for Janice was a most fair-minded
person.
Enthralled by the new motor-car her father had given to her, she really
had lost sight of most other interests--including Nelson. And, knowing
that he might be grieved by her friendliness with the civil engineer,
she should have taken pains to make the school teacher understand the
situation.
Of course, his evident jealousy was rather childish; but Janice did not
consider that fact excused her thoughtlessness. And now that Nelson was
out of Polktown, she found that she missed him sorely. She had hoped
that he would be one of the first of her friends to go for a ride in
the Kremlin car.
And then came news that worried Janice still more. Daddy sent word from
the mine in Mexico that matters were not going so well. There had been
a change in the government and a rumor had spread that the property
might be confiscated.
“And if that happens Daddy will lose a lot of money,” Janice told her
uncle. “Maybe the most of his fortune. Oh, dear, it’s just too mean for
anything! Why can’t those Mexicans settle down and behave themselves!”
“Huh! I guess a lot of ’em would rather fight than work,” was her
uncle’s comment.
During that fortnight Janice drove all over the county. The Upper Road,
past Elder Concannon’s, became her favorite drive, for the roadway
itself was much smoother than many of those about Polktown. She took
Miss ’Rill and her mother out in the car, and while the younger lady
was made speechless with delight, Mrs. Scattergood became even more
voluble than usual.
“I declare for’t! I wouldn’t ever have thought ’twould be like this.
One o’ these here ortermobiles has allus seemed to me like nothin’
more’n a whiz, a toot, an’ a awful stench behind! But wait till I
write to my darter-in-law at Skunk’s Holler an’ tell her I’ve re’lly
rid in one. She won’t scurce believe it,” said the old lady. “My! it
makes one feel scand’lous proud. I shouldn’t wonder if ’twas as the
old Elder say--it’s prophesied against in Holy Writ. But there ’tis,”
added Mrs. Scattergood reflectively; “it does seem as though ev’rything
smart and progressive is frowned upon by the Elder. He’s always been
opposin’ things ever since I can remember anything about him. He’s
most as obsternate as Abel Snow, and they say he forgot himself at his
own weddin’, an’ when the parson axed was there any objection to the
marriage, Abel spoke up an’ says, ‘I’m agin’ it!’”
It was on the occasion when she had the Scattergoods in the tonneau
that Janice experienced her first accident--for the amazement of Walky
Dexter’s horse could not really be catalogued under that name.
Some distance beyond Elder Concannon’s house was a cross road that
went over the mountain through a very beautiful piece of woodland, and
Janice often took that route when driving for pleasure. It was lovely,
for the forest was so dense in some places that the road was always
shady and cool, and there was but one dwelling for miles.
This one building was a squatter’s cabin, and overflowing with
children--Janice had never been able to count them--of all sizes and
ages. She always ran slowly in passing the house, for she feared one
of the babies, like the lank hounds attached to the place, and the
draggle-tailed hens, might be sleeping in the dust of the roadway.
When the motor-car passed all the children that were at home ran out
and shrieked at it, as usual. Janice could not make friends with
the wild little things any more than she could with the rabbits
that started up from their forms beside the trail. Mrs. Scattergood
expressed her opinion of the ragged little mob at the squatters’ cabin
characteristically:
“That’s the Trimmins’ brats. Jest like fleas, ain’t they? And jest as
lively. What Elder Concannon lets them stay up here for, I don’t for
the life of me see! Trimmins, he won’t work; and Miz’ Trimmins, she
can’t work with all them young’uns. It’s a mystery ter me how she kin
keep count of ’em. How they find pork and meal is a wonder.”
“Is that Elder Concannon’s house?” asked Janice curiously.
“Why, this whole piece of woods is his!” exclaimed Mrs. Scattergood.
“He foreclosed on the Simon Halpin estate. Simon’s widder finally
went to the poor farm over Middletown way--she came from there. Ain’t
scurcely a cleared acre now, for it’s been let to grow up. And of
course that Trimmins is too lazy to farm it.”
“I didn’t see quite so many children there to-day as usual, it seems
to me,” Janice said reflectively. “There’s a black-haired girl and a
red-haired boy--about of an age, I should say--who usually come out
to shout. The boy threw a broken bottle in the road one day. That
is another reason why I drive slowly by the cabin. I’m afraid of a
puncture.”
“For the land’s sake! Then we should have to walk back,” cried Mrs.
Scattergood.
“Oh, no; I have an extra wheel strapped on here, ready to replace any
that is injured. There is a jack in the tool box, and the loosening
and tightening again of six screws is all that’s necessary to make the
change.”
“‘Jack,’ eh?” sniffed the old lady. “I don’t know no more’n nothin’
what that means. The only kind of a ‘Jack’ I know about’s got long
ears and brays. And we gotter get back ’fore long, anyway; I got
sody-biscuit to bake for supper. Ain’t nothin’ but baker’s bread in the
house, and I wouldn’t put a tooth inter that, if I went ’ithout bread
as long as the Children of Israel wandered in the desert. How ’Rill kin
eat it I don’t see.”
Janice selected a wide place in the road and turned about. The car
acted beautifully and they spun along at a fast pace on the return
trip. There was no likelihood of their meeting any other vehicle; the
woods, save for the bird songs and frogs peeping in the marshy places,
were quite silent.
The car was still some distance from the squatters’ cabin when, in
shooting around a turn in the forest-masked road, they came upon a lean
hound in the path. Janice shut off the power and braked up, as well as
sounded a warning on the horn. Mrs. Scattergood screamed and Miss ’Rill
likewise cried out.
The dog seemed to make an attempt to get away; but when he leaped for
the side of the road, something hauled him back with a jerk and he fell
sprawling directly beneath the wheels of the Kremlin car!
One yelp, and it was all over. The poor creature could not have
suffered a more sudden, or more painless, death. Janice brought the car
to a jarring stop within a few yards.
She paid no attention to Mrs. Scattergood, who was crying: “Drive right
on! the poor critter’s dead and you can’t bring him back to life. I
don’t see what an ortermobile is for, if ye can’t run away in it when
ye git inter trouble.”
Out of the bushes appeared a boy and a girl. The girl was bawling very
faithfully, and the boy was all bluster and threats.
“Ye gotter pay for our dawg! Ye gotter pay for our dawg!” he reiterated.
“Poor--poor old T-Towser!” sobbed the black-haired girl. “He never done
no harm to nobody. Poor old T-Towser!”
It would really have been a moving occasion had not Janice seen that
the wailing of the girl was like a chorus in a Greek play--quite
impersonal. She “wailed” very well indeed; but there wasn’t a sign
of moisture in her hard black eyes. Janice was dreadfully sorry about
the dog; but she noted the cut-and-dried nature of the proceedings in
which the Trimmins’ boy and girl were engaged. The scene had been well
rehearsed.
“You gotter pay for our dawg!” declared the red-haired boy. “We know
who you be and we’ll send a constable after you if you don’t pay.”
“And we’ll throw glass in the road and bust your tires,” added the
girl, viciously. “Poor old T-Towser!”
But Janice was examining Towser. There were two frayed ropes tied
around the dog’s neck. Her sharp eyes saw the other ends of the broken
ropes, each tied to a sapling on opposite sides of the road!
“You little murderers!” she said, sternly, rising to face them. “The
poor old dog! He’s better off I know; but that was a cruel way to kill
him. How could you?”
“What’s them little imps been doing?” demanded Mrs. Scattergood.
“They tied the dog in our path so that he could not get out of the
way,” explained Janice, almost crying, herself. “We were bound to run
him down; we couldn’t help it.”
“You’ll pay for our dawg!” blustered the red-haired boy again.
“Poor old T-Towser!” added his sister, doubtfully.
“I’ll Towser ’em!” ejaculated the little old lady, tugging at the door
of the tonneau. “Let me jest git ’em!”
She hopped out into the road very briskly and the youthful Trimmins
instantly backed away.
“What them young’uns need,” declared Mrs. Scattergood, “is a good
tannin’. If ’twould do any good I’d tell their mom; but it won’t. She’s
a poor, slimpsy thing without no backbone. If I could lay my han’s on
’em!”
But finding that their trick was fruitless of anything but a
tongue-lashing from the brisk old lady, the two imps ran shrieking away
into the wood. Janice removed the body of the poor dog to the roadside.
She remembered now that the last day she had come past the squatters’
cabin the hound was almost too weak to get out of the path of the
automobile.
“He is better dead,” she said to Miss ’Rill. “But, oh, my dear! I’m so
sorry I was the means of bringing his death about.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Janice,” said her friend, soothingly.
“It must be the fault of us all that such children as these Trimmins
are allowed to grow up about us, so hard and heartless! Something ought
to be done for that family, Miss ’Rill--something ought to be done for
them.”
“I don’t see how you would reach that black-haired girl, for
instance,” sighed the little ex-schoolteacher. “She’s as wild as a
colt.”
“That’s a problem,” said Janice, soberly. “I wonder if it isn’t a
problem that we ought to solve?”
“I had one of her older sisters in my school,” rejoined Miss ’Rill,
with a shudder, “and she was one awful girl! I never knew what she was
going to do next.”
But Janice believed that there ought to be something done for just such
girls as the black-haired Trimmins. She felt as though she might have
been neglectful of her opportunities to _do something_, because of her
new car; and the idea of interesting girls of the age of this one, in
some club or association, took root at this time in Janice Day’s mind.
The boys’ club, of which her Cousin Marty was so enthusiastic a
member, and out of which had grown the Polktown Public Library, was a
flourishing institution; but the boys would have instantly objected
(“put up a holler,” Marty would have strikingly expressed it) were it
even suggested that a girls’ society be grafted on the parent stalk
of the Library Association. Girls could be only honorary members and
help keep the reading room open in the afternoon. Only a few girls were
interested. The growing misses of Polktown, it seemed to Janice Day,
should have some vital matter to engage their attention, draw them
together socially, and to improve them.
Janice began to look forward to her own improvement, too, about this
time. For two years she had attended no school, and her last few weeks
under Miss ’Rill’s tuition had been of small value to her. Expecting as
she did her father’s quick return from Mexico, Janice had not at first
looked upon her life in Polktown as a settled thing.
Her interests were here now, however. If she had the choice she might
not care to return to her old home in Greensboro. The girls whom she
had gone to school with there were already scattered; and she feared
many of them were far ahead of her in their studies.
Daddy might remain in Mexico a year or two longer. She felt the need of
an advance along the paths of education. Especially did she think of
these things after talking with Frank Bowman about his sister, Annette.
Janice was anxious to meet Annette Bowman; but a young lady from a
“finishing school” might prove rather awe-inspiring. Janice felt
the need of some “finishing” herself, and knowing that there was a
seminary for girls at Middletown, she decided to drive over and make
arrangements to enter at the opening of the fall term.
Now that she had her Kremlin car she could run back and forth to the
school morning and night, for it was only twenty miles. In the deep
winter weather she might remain as a weekly boarder, returning to
Polktown on Friday evenings. Aunt ’Mira decided to accompany Janice to
Middletown on this trip of arrangement.
“Even if I don’t spend a penny, I do just love to look into the
Middletown shop-winders,” declared the fashion-hungry lady. “Them
wax figgers with the latest style robes onto ’em look jest like the
pictures in the _Household Love Letter_ of the lords and ladies that
live in castles in England, or in Europe, and have such wonderful
times. You never read them stories, Janice--an’ I s’pose you air too
young to ’preciate ’em--but they’re a gre’t comfort to me. I know I can
never go to them places, or live like them folks does in ‘The Baron’s
Heart Secret’ or ‘The Beauty of Bon Marone Castle,’ but it helps ter
satisfy that longin’ I’ve allus had to travel.”
Aunt ’Mira did not often open her heart so freely, even to her niece;
but this conversation finally led to quite an important result. It gave
Janice one of her very brightest ideas; but she felt that she needed
Nelson Haley to talk it over with.
On the Middletown Lower Road, several miles beyond the Hammett Farm,
Janice and her aunt, speeding happily along, met with Adventure. Around
a turn ahead of them appeared a spirited horse in the shafts of a smart
road-cart. It was not a vehicle owned in Polktown or in the vicinity;
nor was the single occupant of the vehicle anybody whom Janice or her
aunt knew.
“My goodness!” gasped Aunt ’Mira. “Ain’t she the dressy thing? I guess
she’s one o’ them city high-fliers with more money than brains. But,
dear suz, Janice! ain’t that a _be-you-tiful_ plume in her hat?”
Janice, however, had something beside the plume in the girl’s hat to
observe. The horse the strange young lady drove was not at all used
to automobiles. Janice stopped the engine and halted the car almost
instantly; but the horse was standing on his hind legs, pawing the air,
and backing the road-cart into the ditch; while the girl foolishly
sawed on the bit and screeched at the top of her voice.