AFTER THE DANCE
That form of chastisement might have had a salutary effect upon Annette
Bowman. Certainly, as it was, she behaved no better on the way to
Polktown than she had at Judge Slater’s dance.
In the first place, she objected audibly to being crowded in between
Mrs. Day and Janice on the back seat on the sleigh. “It does seem
to me, Frank, that you might have obtained transportation for us in
some other vehicle,” she said aloud. “And why you should need me in
Polktown, just because you might be called away to-morrow, I fail to
see. I think you might have some feeling for me, Frank. You are just as
selfish as you can be.”
“Now, young lady, don’t you be a-fussin’ and a-fumin’,” said Aunt ’Mira
comfortably. “The closer we air packed in here, the warmer we will
be goin’ home. Jest you snuggle right down and keep out o’ the wind.
Wind’s on my side, anyway; and I be sech an elephant that both o’ you
gals kin be sheltered.”
Aunt ’Mira began to chuckle. “I don’t keer, Janice, I did dance two of
them funny dances. Miz’ Cora Pease an’ I done ’em together, and I bet
we looked like two circus elephants a-waltzin’. But ’twas fun--I ain’t
done the like at a public dance since Jason and I was courtin’.
“Goodness me! That was a long spell ago, warn’t it? But we ain’t got no
business to be old before our time. I gotter wake Jason up--I sartainly
have!”
“I’d like to see you git Dad out to a dance,” remarked Marty. “That
would foretell the Crack o’ Doom!”
“Don’t you keer,” said his mother cheerfully. “Ye’ll likely see a hull
lot o’ surprisin’ things b’fore you die, Marty. And if you see your
father and your mother a-growin’ younger, instead of older, you’d ought
to be glad of that.”
“Crackey!” exclaimed Marty, “if that happens where’ll I be? Pretty soon
I’ll be back inter pinafores. Good-night!”
Janice laughed and said: “And I’ll be curling him’s pretty hair and
dressing him for Sunday School. I always did wish I had a baby brother,
and you’ll do very well, Marty. Hurry up and grow backward, dear. I
want to see how cunning you’d be in pinafores.”
“Huh!” snorted Marty. “Don’t you think you’re smart?”
Annette entered into none of this simple fun, whereas her brother was
soon the life of the homegoing party. He did not wish his sister to
suspect that he had anything to trouble him, and he succeeded very well.
Annette took all of the seat she conveniently could, ramming her elbows
on either side into her companions. Aunt ’Mira was too “cushiony” to
mind this; but Janice was made very uncomfortable physically as well as
mentally by the selfishness of the older girl.
Everybody was glad when the sorrel team struck into High Street. It
was midnight and the town was asleep. They were almost the first of
the revelers to return. Marty drove to the Inn, where the Bowmans
disembarked. Frank thanked the Days warmly for their courtesy; but
Annette stalked into the Inn without even bidding them good-night.
“I’d like to have that girl for a sister,” grunted Marty, when they
turned into Hillside Avenue. “Huh!”
Janice had not found much enjoyment in the barn dance, although she was
asked to dance frequently, and had been on the floor as much as was
good for her. The athletic instructor at the seminary had insisted on
even the day scholars attending the dancing classes twice a week in the
school gymnasium, and Janice knew how to dance some of the more modern
dances approved by saner people.
Although Nelson Haley was at the dance he had not come near her
and Janice was disappointed. She was always hoping that at some
informal party like this one, she would find an opportunity to speak
confidentially to the school teacher. But that occasion never seemed to
present itself.
Now that snow covered the ground she could use her car no more, and
she was away from home from Monday morning until Friday evening. She
boarded with a widowed lady near the seminary.
Janice missed her rides in the automobile, for jogging along behind
Walky Dexter’s old horses was not much fun. There was a week’s vacation
at Thanksgiving, and at the very beginning of that recess the weather
unaccountably changed. The thermometer rose with a bound, rain fell in
torrents, and all the snow was washed off the hillsides. It cleared
off warm, too--an unseasonable change that did nobody any good. Colds
and other physical troubles were immediately prevalent and the local
physicians had their hands full.
The roads were so well drained about Polktown that they dried
immediately. Janice got out the car and ran up into the woods to
see how the Trimmins family were getting on. Dr. Poole was still in
attendance on little Buddy and he saw to it that the other children
were prevented from getting any childish ills at this time. She met the
good doctor at the squatters’ cabin.
“Put out your tongue and let’s feel your pulse, Janice,” he said,
gruffly. “I don’t want you getting sick. I’ve got some serious cases of
grippe in town and one I’m afraid will result in pneumonia. I warned
that stubborn fellow; but he thought he knew more than I did. Ought to
have gone to bed two days before school closed; but he said he’d wait
and be sick during this vacation--and he _is_.”
“Whom do you mean, Doctor?” asked Janice, with sudden apprehension.
“That Nelse Haley--reckless fellow! His temperature this morning was a
hundred and three, and still going up.”
“The school teacher!” cried Janice, in sudden alarm.
“Yes. Mrs. Beasely has got her hands full with him. He’s not an easy
patient to nurse. Won’t obey orders,” said the doctor, as he climbed
into his gig.
This worried Janice a good deal. She stopped at the Scattergoods on her
way home and asked about Nelson.
“Yeou better go in an’ try nussin’ him, Janice Day,” said the old lady,
nodding her head emphatically. “I jest come from there an’ Miz’ Beasely
is a-flyin’ ’round like a hen with its head cut off. She never was no
hand with sick folks and she can’t manage him wuth a cent.”
Miss ’Rill followed her out to the car and whispered: “I’ll let you
know how he’s getting on, Janice. Of course, he isn’t as bad as mother
makes out. She is always making a mountain out of a mole-hill.”
But Janice was very much worried. That evening she sent Marty over to
Hopewell Drugg’s to get the latest news of the teacher’s illness, and
the boy came back looking very serious indeed, for him.
“Doc Poole’s been there again this evening,” Marty reported. “They say
he’s out of his head and the Doc is ’fraid it will turn into pneumonia.
My goodness! it would be mighty tough if we lost Nelson Haley. He’s the
best teacher we ever had in the Polktown school.”
Janice listened to the kindly comments of her uncle and aunt, but she
had little to say herself. When she went to bed she added a petition
for Nelson to her evening prayer; and it was a long time ere she got to
sleep that night.