LOOKING FOR JANICE
The Middletown Seminary had closed for the Christmas holidays as usual;
but Janice had been very busy at home finishing her Christmas presents,
and sending off belated packages to absent friends. Of course, the
Christmas package for Daddy had gone weeks before. The mail service to
the mine in Mexico was very irregular.
On this day when the clouds began to hover so close above the mountain
tops before noon, Janice decided that she would not risk putting off
until Christmas Eve a visit that she must make. She packed an old
box-sled of Marty’s full of little packages, all named and numbered,
and pulled a coasting cap down over her ears in preparation for
departure.
“You’d oughter take Marty with you, Janice,” her aunt told her.
“B-r-r-r! It’s colder than a frog’s toes outside.”
“I don’t know how cold a frog’s toes are this time of year,” laughed
Janice; “but mine are warm as toast in these fleece-lined boots. Don’t
worry about me, Aunt ’Mira. No knowing where Mart is, unless he’s in
school. But I think his classes are not being held to-day. I’ll toddle
along; don’t worry if I am not home at supper time, for I have another
call to make on my way back.”
She did not go by the road, for there was a short-cut over the
mountain, and the snow crust was hard. It was directly after dinner
when she set out. The first flakes of the promised storm had not fallen
when she turned off the highway into the narrow drive that led past the
Trimmins’ cabin.
It was to the squatters’ poor home she was bound. Christmas cheer was
there ahead of her, however. Janice had not seen Jinny and her folks
lately, but she knew that the whole family had been extremely busy
making holly wreaths; while “Pappy” had been cutting Christmas trees
for Elder Concannon and helping ship them at the Middletown station.
Odd wreaths bedecked the walls of the main room of the house, while
in the corner farthest from the fire was a handsome young tree that
touched the rafters. It was already strung with popcorn and tinsel
balls, while colored candles were ready to be lighted on Christmas
Eve--now little more than twenty-four hours away.
Janice had made herself the friend of every small member of the
Trimmins brood ere this, if she had not made much headway with the
older ones. The red-haired boy was still antagonistic; but Jinny kept
him well in leash.
Now the black-haired girl helped Janice smuggle the little packages
into the house, for they were only to be tied upon the tree the next
evening. There was a present for every member of the Trimmins family,
and making these gifts had given Janice more pleasure than most of her
Christmas activities. She knew that all would be delighted with the
presents--even Tom, the red-haired, for she had bought for him such a
complicated pocketknife as no boy on earth could resist.
Little Buddy Trimmins would sit in nobody’s lap but hers when Janice
was in the house. His mother could not refuse to admire Janice when the
baby showed the visitor such partiality. Janice had spent a pleasant
hour when Tom thrust his head in the doorway and broke the news of the
rising storm by saying:
“If that gal wants t’ git home for Christmas she’d better make a start.
It hain’t snowin’ a bit--oh, no!”
Jinny sprang up to box his ears; but as he dodged out through the door
he left it ajar and a great swirl of driving snowflakes was sucked into
the room.
“Shet that door, Jinny!” called the mother. “Ye want t’ give the baby
his death?”
“Oh, Janice! It is snowin’ hard,” cried Virginia.
“I’ll hurry right home,” agreed Janice, jumping up and putting on her
outer clothing. Her sled was already packed with the Christmas wreaths
that Virginia and Mayrie and Elsie had made for her.
“You Tom!” Virginia shouted. “Come, pull this sled for Miss Janice,”
she commanded, when the red-haired boy appeared.
“Won’t neither!” he declared. “’Tain’t no weight to it----”
“You shet up an’ take holt on them sled ropes,” interrupted the little
virago. “Or else you needn’t come in t’ no supper this night.”
In the clearing the snow was coming down faster and faster. Janice
could scarcely see as far as the road. Tom grumbled aloud:
“If I go clean down in t’ Polktown with her, I won’t git back to no
supper. ’Tain’t goin’ t’ be fitten for a hawk t’ be out by supper time.”
“You shall only come with me to the big road,” Janice said, cheerfully.
“Then the wind will be behind me and I shall get on very well.”
“He’d ought t’ go the whole way,” said Virginia, doubtfully. “I hope
nothin’ won’t happen to you, Janice Day.”
“Nothing ever does happen to me but good things,” laughed Janice,
setting off through the falling snow.
She was by no means as happy in her heart as she appeared to be on the
surface. As the season of joy and gift-giving approached there was
something that troubled the girl more and more. Ever since Nelson
had been ill she had prayed that the difficulty between them would
be overcome. If he wanted Annette Bowman for his friend, Janice told
herself she could make no effort to thwart him, but she did wish to
feel that there was no unkind feeling between Nelson and herself.
When the school teacher, in his delirium, had seemed to ask for
Annette, Janice was smitten to the quick. She could fight the other
girl no further. If Nelson’s mind turned to the city girl in its
beclouded state, he must be very fond of her indeed.
Janice had been at work for weeks on a knitted silk muffler for Nelson.
Into it, as her dextrous fingers flew, she had knitted many thoughts
and wishes and hopes for the future. She had her day-dreams like other
young girls. And Nelson had been her very, very dear friend.
The school teacher was to have the muffler, of course. But he would
never know what fancies had been knitted into it. She would just send
Marty over to the Beasely cottage with the box and a Christmas card on
which was written “Best Wishes.” She decided on this finally as she
tramped ahead of Tom Trimmins out to the big road.
“Now, you are a real nice boy,” she declared, taking the line from his
unmittened hand. “I am much obliged to you. And I wish you a very
Merry Christmas!”
“You’d better git on home,” growled Tom gruffly. “I tell ye, this is a
reg’lar blizzard. Goo’-bye.”
“Good-bye and Merry Christmas!” returned Janice, insistently.
“Aw--well--I s’pose ye will have it!” said the red-head. “Merry
Christmas! Nex’ thing, I s’pose ye’ll wanter kiss me like ye do the
kids.”
“I promise not to do that, Tom,” said Janice, her eyes dancing, but her
face grave, “until you wash your face. Then I might be tempted.”
He grinned sheepishly and then stood and watched her disappear in the
curtain of snow that swirled down the broad roadway.
Before she had gone half a mile Janice realized that this was like
no other storm she had been out in. The wind shrieked around her,
sometimes buffeting her so sorely that she almost lost her footing. It
became something of an effort to pull the light sled.
There were not many farms between the wood road and Elder Concannon’s,
and every house was back some distance from the road. Janice did not
believe she could get lost, thick as the snowfall was, for the highway
was fenced on either side. But if she turned off it and attempted to
take refuge in one of these dwellings along the way, would she find
such refuge? That was a query that troubled her. The risk seemed less
if she plodded on, and this she did while the afternoon waned and the
storm increased in fury.
She had no idea that she was already the subject of worried inquiry at
home. Marty had returned and had begun shoveling the paths.
“More I do now, the less I’ll hafter do in the morning. Plague take the
snow, anyway! I jest hate shovelin’ paths,” he complained. “And, by
jinks! I dunno but the snow’s fillin’ this one up faster than I kin git
it dug. This is an old ripsnorter of a storm, and no mistake. Hullo!
who’s this plowin’ up the lane?”
It proved to be Nelson Haley. He had not been to the Day house for
several weeks and Marty hailed him with surprise.
“My goodness, Mr. Haley! I thought you’d forgotten the way up here. Ye
ain’t lost, be ye?”
“Not at all, Marty, not at all; but I see that you lose all your
knowledge of the English language just as soon as you get out of the
school building.”
Marty had the grace to blush, cold as it was! “I forgot, Mr. Haley. You
see, everybody around here talks careless-like.”
“Not Janice, I’ll be bound,” said the school teacher, cheerfully. “And
by the way, is she at home?”
“Janice? Crackey! she ain’t, but she ought to be,” exclaimed Marty.
“Mother told me she went up into the woods to see those Trimminses.”
“Those squatters in Elder Concannon’s woods?”
“Yes, sir! And she’d ought to be back,” said Marty, troubled. “She
might get lost in this snow.”
“You are right,” said Nelson, with equal gravity. “Little Lottie was
lost in it and we only brought her in an hour ago. Come! let’s go to
meet Janice.”
“In a minute!” cried Marty, starting for the kitchen door. “Wait till I
tell Marm. Come in and get a warm?”
“I stopped at Massey’s and got some hot chocolate. I’m warmly dressed,”
returned Nelson. “Let us hurry.”
The boy and his teacher were off in another minute. Mr. Day was not at
home or he would have gone with them. Facing the storm on the mountain
road was no pleasant adventure. The snow had become needle-sharp now,
and cut their faces sorely. The stronger gusts of wind buffeted the
pair until they were glad to cling to each other’s hands.
“My goodness!” gasped Nelson. “I hope that either Janice did not start
back from that house, or she has gone in somewhere.”
“And we won’t know where,” growled Marty.
“But we’ll ask at every house after we get out of town,” suggested the
teacher. “That is, every one but the Elder’s. I guess she wouldn’t have
gone in there.”
“Say! I don’t know about that,” shouted Marty so his friend could hear
him. “Janice and the Elder have been thicker than thieves lately.”
“What’s that?” said Nelson. “You don’t mean it!”
“Yep. Janice never said a thing about it. You know, she’s
closer-mouthed than a clam with the lockjaw. But it’s beginnin’ to leak
out.”
“What is?”
“Why, how she took the old Elder for a ride in her car. And it was
some joy ride, believe me!” and Marty laughed heartily, despite the
buffeting of the storm.
He repeated for the teacher’s benefit an aggravated account of that
ride to Middletown for the money, with annotations and additions
by everybody who had repeated it, beginning with Bill Embers, Si
Littlefield, and the Warners, and so on, down the line.
“And if ye notice, Mr. Haley,” concluded Marty, “the Elder hasn’t had a
word to say lately about the Prophet Daniel foreseein’ the automobile
craze of the Twentieth Century. He donated a spankin’ big tree for the
Girls’ Guild entertainment----”
“And he told me last week that he would give fifty dollars toward the
series of lectures and educational moving picture shows that we’re
going to have in the school hall after New Year’s. Was it Janice who
started the trustees on that idea?” queried Haley, as they halted in
the lee of a shed to get their breath.
“Betcher life!” exclaimed Marty, proudly. “There ain’t much new that’s
any good in Polktown, that isn’t started by that cousin of mine. And
she got that idea from mother’s saying that she loved to read about
foreign places and foreign people, though she knew she’d never get far
from Polktown to see such things.”
“I see,” agreed Nelson.
“So Janice said: ‘Let’s see if we can’t bring the places here,’ and I
vow!” he concluded, “if she ain’t goin’ to do it!”
They started on. The big Concannon house, which stood close to the
road, loomed through the snow. “If you think it’s possible she may be
here,” suggested Nelson, doubtfully, “we might stop and find out.”
“Come on,” said Marty, taking the lead.
He made his way to the side porch. It was heaped with snow and the
windows were masked with it, too. There was a light inside, early as
was the hour. Marty thundered on the portal.
“Hello, in there, Elder!” he shouted. “Is Janice Day here?”
There was a movement within, and voices. They could hear Janice
laughing cheerily. A heavy step came into the entry and the door was
flung wide open.
“Come in, boys,” said the deep voice of the Elder. “Come in and get
warm. This is a pretty serious storm. I have already got one refugee.”
“Did you come looking for me, Marty?” cried Janice from the
sitting-room. “Do come in and try to beat the Elder at least one game
of checkers. He’s beaten me five straight games----
“Oh! Nelson Haley! Did--did you come to look for me, too?”
“Janice--my Janice!” murmured the school teacher, looking at her
sitting all rosy and wind-berumpled by the open fire, and forgetting to
stamp the snow from his boots. “I certainly did come for you!”