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THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY
_THE "DO SOMETHING" BOOKS_
BY
HELEN BEECHER LONG
JANICE DAY
THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY
HOW JANICE DAY WON
THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY
_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated
Price per volume, $1.25 net_
SULLY AND KLEINTEICH
NEW YORK
[Illustration: She approached the charger ridden by the bandit chief.
(_See page 242_)]
THE FOURTH "_DO SOMETHING_" BOOK
* * * * *
THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY
BY
HELEN BEECHER LONG
AUTHOR OF "JANICE DAY,"
"THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY," ETC.
Illustrated by
CORINNE TURNER
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
SULLY AND KLEINTEICH
=Copyright, 1917, by=
SULLY AND KLEINTEICH
All rights reserved
CONTENTS
=CHAPTER= =PAGE=
I. =Something Troubles Uncle Jason= 1
II. =Something Troubles Everybody= 16
III. =Marty Speaks Out= 25
IV. ="I Told You So"= 32
V. =Janice Goes Her Way= 44
VI. =The Shadow of Coming Events= 55
VII. =Echoes= 63
VIII. =Lottie Seeks a Friend= 72
IX. =Mrs. Scattergood Talks= 82
X. =The Only Serious Thing= 93
XI. ="I Must Go!"= 103
XII. =Nelson Does Not Understand= 113
XIII. =Marty Expands= 121
XIV. =The Black-eyed Woman= 132
XV. =A Shock to Polktown= 141
XVI. =Marty Runs Into Trouble= 153
XVII. =Two Explosions= 163
XVIII. =Something Very Exciting= 174
XIX. =The Crossing= 183
XX. =Roweled by Circumstances= 201
XXI. =At La Guarda= 213
XXII. =The Red Vest Again= 223
XXIII. =The Bandits= 232
XXIV. =The Situation Becomes Difficult= 240
XXV. =An Amazing Meeting= 249
XXVI. =At Last= 263
XXVII. =Much To Talk About= 272
XXVIII. =Tom Hotchkiss Reappears= 281
XXIX. ="Judge B-day"= 289
XXX. =At Home= 298
ILLUSTRATIONS
She approached the charger ridden by the bandit chief.
(See page 242.) _Frontispiece_
=FACING PAGE=
"What do you mean? Has anything happened to daddy?" 92
"Marty Day!" repeated the girl. "How did you come here?" 164
A rising murmur went through the crowd; then they cheered 306
THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY
CHAPTER I
SOMETHING TROUBLES UNCLE JASON
"He don't look right and he don't sleep right," complained Aunt Almira
Day, swinging to and fro ponderously in one of the porch rockers and
fanning herself vigorously with a folded copy of the _Fireside
Favorite_. "If it wasn't for his puttin' away jest as many victuals as
usual I'd sartain sure think he was sickenin' for something."
"Oh! I hope Uncle Jason isn't going to be ill," Janice said
sympathetically. "He has always seemed so rugged."
"He's rugged enough," Aunt 'Mira continued. "Don't I tell ye he's eatin'
full and plenty? But there's something on his mind--an' he won't tell me
what 'tis."
"Maybe you imagine it," her niece said, pinning on her hat preparatory
to leaving the old Day house on Hillside Avenue, overlooking Polktown.
"Imagine nothin'!" ejaculated Aunt 'Mira with more vigor than elegance.
She was not usually snappish in her conversation. She was a fleshy,
lymphatic woman, particularly moist on this unseasonably warm October
day, addicted to gay colors in dress and the latest fashions as depicted
in the pages of the _Fireside Favorite_, and usually not prone to
worries of any kind.
"Imagine nothin'!" she repeated. "I've summered and wintered Jase Day
for more'n twenty years; I'd ought to know him and all his ways from A
to Izzard. When anything is goin' wrong with him he's allus as
close-mouthed as a hard-shell clam with the lockjaw. I vum! I don't know
what to make of him now."
"I haven't noticed much out of the way with Uncle Jason," Janice said
reflectively. "Aren't you----"
"No, I ain't!" interrupted Aunt 'Mira. "I tell ye he don't sleep right.
Lays and grunts and thrashes all night long--mutterin' in his sleep and
actin' right foolish. I never see the beat. I must say 't in all the
years I've slept beside Jase Day he ain't been like he is now."
"Why don't you ask him what the trouble is?"
"Ask him!" said Aunt 'Mira. "Might as well ask the stone Spink they set
up as a god or something down there in Egypt. Ye'd get jest as quick an
answer from it as ye would from Jase Day when he wants to keep dumb.
Dumb! when he wants to say _nothin'_ he says it like a whole deef and
dumb asylum."
Janice laughed. She had noticed nothing very strange about her uncle's
recent manner, and believed Aunt 'Mira, little as she was given to that
failing, was borrowing trouble.
The wine of autumn seemed fairly to permeate the air. It was too
beautiful a day for youth to be disturbed by mere imaginary troubles.
Janice could scarcely keep from singing as she passed down the pleasant
thoroughfare. The wide-branching trees shading it showered her with
brilliant leaves. Across the placid lake the distant shore was a bank of
variegated hues. Even the frowning height on which the pre-revolutionary
fortress stood had yielded to the season's magic and looked gay in
burning colors of shrub and vine.
Beyond the jaws of the cove upon the shore of which Polktown was
builded, a smart little steamboat flaunted a banner of smoke across the
sky. The new _Constance Colfax_ would soon be at the Polktown dock and
Janice was on her way to meet it. That is, this was her obvious purpose,
as it was of many Polktown folk abroad at the hour. As yet it was the
single daily excitement in which one might indulge in this little
Vermont town. Soon the branch of the V. C. Railroad would be opened and
then Polktown really would be in frequent touch with the outside world.
Its somnolence, its conservatism, even its crass ignorance of conditions
in the great centers of industry and population, added a charm to life
as it was lived in Polktown. Yet it was wide-awake regarding local
affairs, and this pretty and well-dressed girl walking so blithely
toward High Street had had an actual and important part in the
enlivening of the lakeside community during the past few months.
It was Janice Day's earnestness, her "do something" tactics, that had
carried to happy conclusion several important public movements in
Polktown. Quite unconsciously at first, by precept and example, she had
urged awake the long dozing community, and, once having got its eyes
open, Janice Day saw to it that the town did not go to sleep again.
She loved Polktown. The Middle-West community where she was born and had
lived most of her girlhood was a tender memory to Janice. Her dear
mother had died there, and for several years her father and she had
lived very close to each other in their mutual sorrow.
In Greenboro, however, she had had little opportunity for that
development of character which contact with the world, with strangers
and with new conditions, is sure to bring. She had been merely a
schoolgirl at home with "daddy" before coming East to live with Uncle
Jason and Aunt 'Mira. In Polktown she had found herself.
It may have been thought of this that curved her lips in the
contemplative smile they wore, blossomed the roses in her cheeks, and
added the sparkle to her hazel eyes as she tripped along.
To the view of many in Polktown Janice Day was pretty; but in a certain
pair of eyes that beheld her to-day while yet she was a great way off,
she was the embodiment of everything that was good and beautiful.
Nelson Haley, coming out of the new graded school, of which he was the
very capable and unusually beloved principal, owned this particular pair
of eyes. He hastened his steps to the corner of the cross street on
which the schoolhouse stood and overtook the girl.
"Going right by without noticing me, I presume?" he said, lifting his
hat, a frank smile upon his very youthful countenance.
"Of course, Nelson," she said, giving him her hand for a moment and
gazing directly into his earnest eyes. That touch and look thrilled them
both. Nelson dropped into step with her and they went on down the hill
for several moments in a silence which, to these two who knew each other
so well, suggested a more certain understanding than speech.
It was Nelson who said as they turned into High Street:
"What meaneth the smile, Janice? What is the immediate thought in that
demure head of yours? Something amusing, I'm sure."
Janice laughed outright, flashing him an elfish glance. "I was thinking
of something."
"Of course. Out with it," he told her. "Confession is good for the soul
and removes the tantalizing element of curiosity."
"Oh, it's not a matter for the confessional. I was just remembering a
certain person who arrived in this town not much more than three years
ago, and how different she was then--and how different the town!--from
the present."
"I acknowledge the immense change which has come over the town; but you,
my dear, in your nature and character are as changeless as the
hills--even as the Green Mountains of old Vermont."
"Why! I don't know whether that is a compliment or not, Nelson," she
cried. "Daddy says the man who doesn't change his politics and his
religious outlook in twenty years is dead. They have merely neglected to
bury him."
"The fundamentals cannot change," the philosophical young schoolmaster
observed. "You have developed, dear girl; but the bud that is blossoming
into the flower of your womanhood was curled in the leaf of your
character when you first looked at Polktown from the deck of the old
_Constance Colfax_."
"Why, Nelson! that is almost poetical," she said, glancing at him again
as they walked side by side toward the dock at the foot of Polktown's
principal business thoroughfare. "And whether it is poetry or not I
like it," she added, dimpling again.
"Oh, my _dear_! how different the place looked that day from what it is
now. Why, it was only known as _Poketown_! And it was the pokiest, most
rubbishy, lackadaisical village I ever saw. Just think of its original
name being lost by years of careless pronunciation! The people had even
forgotten that sterling old patriot, Hubbard Polk, who first settled
here and defied the 'Yorkers.'"
Janice laughed with a reflective note in her voice. "Why, when they
cleaned up the town---- Will you _ever_ forget Polktown's first Clean-Up
Day, Nelson?"
"Never," chuckled the young man. "Such a shaking up of the dry bones,
both literal and metaphorical!"
"I can see," said Janice more quietly, "that Polktown has changed and
developed whether I have or not. We certainly have learned----"
"To _do something_," finished Nelson with emphasis. "That's it exactly.
The teachings instilled into his daughter's mind by that really
wonderful man, Mr. Broxton Day, to the end that she is always eager to
begin the battle while other folk are merely talking about it, has
served to put Polktown on the map."
Janice squeezed his arm, dimpling and smiling. "Dear daddy!" she mused.
"If he only could get away from business affairs and come out of
distracted Mexico to spend his time here in peace and quiet."
"'Peace and quiet!'" repeated the schoolmaster. "Ask Walky Dexter what
he thinks of _that_. If your father sustains the reputation his daughter
has given him, Polktown would be prodded into an even more strenuous
existence than that of our recent successful campaign for no license.
Walky believes, Janice, you have all the characteristics of a capsicum
plaster."
"Now, Nelson!"
"Fact! You ask him. You're the greatest counter-irritant that was ever
applied to any dead-and-alive settlement.... 'Lo, Walky!"
The village expressman, as well known as the town pump and quite as
important, drew the bony and sleepy Josephus to an abrupt stop beside
the smiling pair of young people. Walky's broad, wind-blown countenance
was a-grin and his eyes twinkled as he broke into speech:
"Jefers-pelters! d'you know what I caught myself a-doin' when I seen you
two folks goin' down hill ahead of me?"
"I couldn't guess, Walky. What?" asked Janice.
"Whistlin' that there 'Bridle March' they play on the church organ when
there's a weddin'--haw! haw! haw!"
Janice colored rosily, but could not refrain from laughter at Walky's
crude joke. Nobody could be very angry with Walky Dexter, no matter what
he said or did.
"That's a poor brand of humor you are peddling, old man," said the
schoolmaster coolly. "Besides, you don't pronounce the word right. It's
'bri-_dal_' not 'bridle.' You speak it as though it were a part of
Josephus' harness."
"Young man," responded Walky solemnly, but with a twinkle in his watery
eye, "when they play that march for you ye'll find ye're harnessed all
right. I been merried thutty year now and I oughter know if 'tain't a
'bridle' march and a halter they lead ye to 'stead of a altar."
He exploded another laugh in approval of his own wit and rattled on down
to the dock. There was little self-consciousness in the manner of the
schoolmaster and Janice. They looked at each other understandingly again
and smiled.
Why seek to hide an obvious fact? Every person in Polktown who had
arrived at the age of understanding and was not yet senile knew that
Nelson Haley and Janice Day had "made a match of it." Only the girl's
youth and the necessity for the young man to become established in his
calling precluded the thought of matrimony for the present. But they
were sure of their feeling for each other. Both had been tested in the
months that had passed since Nelson came to Polktown fresh from his
college course and had shown Janice that he could "make good." There had
been conflict in both their lives; there had even been clash in their
opinions; but the foundation of their affection for each other was too
well established for either to doubt.
The simple romance of their lives seemed very sweet indeed to those of
their friends whose eyes were not holden. Nelson Haley and Janice Day
were at the beginning of that path which, if sometimes rugged and steep
to the travelers thereon, is primrose strewn.
They passed one of the largest stores in Polktown--an "emporium" as the
gilt sign stated--which had been opened only a few months. Nelson,
picking up the first idle topic, said:
"I wonder what's happened to Tom Hotchkiss? I haven't seen him about for
some days--and you can't very well miss that important looking red vest
he wears."
"Somebody said he'd gone away," Janice replied, as lightly interested in
the subject as the schoolmaster. "To buy goods, I presume. He often
makes trips to the city for that purpose."
"Hey, you folks! What're you pokin' along so for?" a shrill voice
demanded behind them. "She's comin' into the dock now."
A boy clattered by them, swinging a strapful of books and grinning at
Janice and Nelson companionably. He was a sturdy boy with a good-humored
face plentifully besprinkled with freckles.
"They can dock the _Constance Colfax_ without our being there, Marty,"
Janice said.
"Hi tunket! they can't without _I_ say so," her cousin flung back over
his shoulder as he clattered on.
Nelson sighed. "You would not believe that boy stood well in his classes
and had the benefit of my precept and example in speech for several
hours each school day of the year."
"Marty is incorrigible, I fear," Janice returned, with a smile.
"He sheds his knowledge of polite English when he steps out of the
school building just as a snake sheds its skin. He is perfectly
hopeless."
"And at heart a perfect dear," announced Janice. "There's something
better than even a knowledge of good English in Marty Day."
Nelson's eyes twinkled. "Do you know," he observed, "I suspect you are
prejudiced in your cousin's favor?"
They reached the wharf just as the passengers landing at Polktown were
streaming up from the boat. There were several commercial travelers
bound for the Lake View Inn and the ministrations of Marm Parraday, who
was now its overseeing spirit. Besides these there was but one
disembarking passenger. She attracted Janice Day's immediate attention.
"Look, Nelson; here comes Mrs. Scattergood. She's just returning from a
visit to her son. Do you know, she is the first friend I made when I
came to Polktown? She was on the boat that day coming over from the
Landing."
"The old girl looks as spry as ever," said Nelson disrespectfully. "And
I guarantee she already has her hammer out."
"Nelson! And you criticize Marty's language!" laughed Janice.
"There is some slang, young lady, that so adds to the forcefulness of
English that the dictionaries adopt it. Say! are you going to stop for
her?"
"Oh, I must, Nelson," Janice said with a rueful glance at the
schoolmaster.
"Then, to quote my slangiest pupil again--good-_night_!" and Nelson went
away cheerfully to greet several of the young men of the town grouped on
the other side of the wharf.
"Well, well, Janice Day!" chirped the little old woman with a birdlike
tilt of her head when the girl welcomed her. "You be a pleasant sight to
see when a body comes home. And I _be_ glad to get home. I tell my son's
wife I can't make many more of these trips to Skunk's Holler. It's too
fatiguing, and at my age I like my own bed and my own fireside. I s'pose
Rill's well?"
"Very well--and very happy," said Janice softly, looking at the
sharp-featured old woman with grave eyes.
"'Sthat so? Well, I s'pect she's relieved in her mind now the bar at the
hotel is closed," snapped Mrs. Scattergood. "Hopewell Drugg can't go fur
astray if he don't go playin' that fiddle of his to no more o' them
dances. Though you can't trust no man too fur--that's been _my_
experience with 'em."
"Oh, dear, me! how unfortunate you have been all your life, Mrs.
Scattergood," sighed Janice. There was laughter in her eyes if her lips
were grave. Mrs. Scattergood's fault-finding character was well known to
the girl.
"Hi, Janice!" broke in Marty Day's voice, and he came puffing up the
hill after his cousin and Mrs. Scattergood. "How-do, Miz' Scattergood?
Did y'see Tom Hotchkiss come ashore?"
"Why, no, Marty. I did not notice him. Why?" Janice said.
"Dad wanted I should find out if he came home to-day. But I didn't see
him."
"What's Jase Day want o' Tom Hotchkiss?" demanded Mrs. Scattergood
sharply.
"I really couldn't say," Janice replied.
"Wal, he warn't on the boat; I can tell ye that. And to my notion Tom
Hotchkiss is as onsartin a feller to figger on as any party in this
town. He was as full o' tricks as a monkey when he was a boy here; and
he didn't onlearn none o' them, I'll be bound, all the years he was
away, nobody knows where. I wouldn't trust Tom Hotchkiss with a nickel
no further than I could swing an elephant by its tail."
"Oh my, Mrs. Scattergood! that wouldn't be far," laughed Janice. They
came to the intersection of Hillside Avenue and High Street. "Well, I
must leave you here. I'm glad to see you home again, and looking so
well."
This was on Friday evening. Janice, happy and care-free, went home to
help Aunt 'Mira prepare supper. There seemed nothing in the world now to
trouble Janice Day and she had forgotten Aunt 'Mira's prognostications
of evil.
News from Mexico--from dear daddy at the mine--had been very favorable
for weeks. Of course, back in the girl's mind was always the fear, now
lulled to sleep, that something bad might happen to Mr. Broxton Day down
in battle-ridden Mexico. But the present de facto government seemed to
favor American mining interests, and Mr. Day wrote very hopefully of the
outlook for the future.
Uncle Jason Day, a silent man at best, came in to supper much as usual.
In the midst of the meal there was a rap upon the kitchen door and Marty
clumsily arose to answer the summons.
"Say, Dad!" the boy cried, "it's Aaron Whelpley. Says he wants to see
you outside."
"What's _he_ want o' ye, Jase?" asked Aunt 'Mira curiously, as her
husband left the table. "Don't he clerk down to Tom Hotchkiss' store?"
Uncle Jase muttered something unintelligible and went out on the porch,
closing the door carefully behind him. The air of expectancy over the
three left at the supper table in the Day kitchen increased as the
minutes passed.
"More secrets," said Mrs. Day lachrymosely. "I might's well be merried
to the Shah of Pershy. I'd know jest as much about _his_ business as I
do about Jase Day's."
Marty only chuckled at his mother's complaint. Janice felt some little
perturbation. It increased as Uncle Jason's absence continued. When
finally he opened the door suddenly and almost staggered into the
kitchen, his face blanched and his eyes expressing an emotion that she
could not fathom, the girl leaped simultaneously to her feet and to a
conclusion.
"It's daddy!" she gasped. "Something has happened again in Mexico! Oh,
Uncle Jason! what is it?"