JANICE GOES HER WAY
"Come over to the garage," said Nelson Haley, seizing the boy by the
wrist. "Is it unlocked?"
"Yes," gulped Marty.
"I can read it in the light of the side lamp of the car," said the
schoolmaster.
His own voice was shaken. He knew that something very serious must have
occurred or Marty Day would not act in this manner.
They hurried across the yard and Marty unbarred the garage door. Nobody
in Polktown thought of locking any outbuilding, save possibly the
corn-crib or the smoke-house.
Marty closed the door tightly before Nelson scratched a match and
fumbled for the latch of the kerosene side lamp of Janice's automobile.
In the yellow radiance of this he unfolded the newspaper Marty had
seized at the public library. The schoolmaster looked at once at the
extreme right-hand column of the front page of the paper--the column in
which the Mexican news was usually displayed. A sub-heading caught his
eye almost instantly:
MORE AMERICANS BUTCHERED
A great revolt had again broken out against the de facto government. It
was spreading, the report said, hourly. In the Companos District the
wires had been cut, but it was known that there had been much bloodshed
there. Several of the former insurrecto leaders who had recently gone
over to the existing party in power at Mexico City, were reported
assassinated, among them Juan Dicampa.
"And he was Mr. Day's friend--he served him well during the last
uprising in that district!" Nelson ejaculated.
"That ain't the worst. Read on," breathed Marty.
"Great heavens! can it be possible?" whispered Nelson.
"The mines in the Companos District have all been seized by the
insurrectos. The peons working them have been forced into the ranks
of the revolutionists. Not an American has escaped from the district
and several are known to have been killed. At the Alderdice Mine,
fourteen miles north of San Cristoval, it is said the
superintendent, B. Day, has been wounded and is held prisoner."
"Wh--what do you know about _that_?" stuttered Marty. "Uncle Brocky's
hurt and they won't let him go."
"Hush!" commanded Nelson.
"Aw--there's nobody to hear," choked the boy. "And how can we keep it
from Janice?"
"We must!" exclaimed Nelson.
"Say, Nelson Haley! You got to be mighty smart to keep Janice from
finding out every little thing. You know that. And she's always looking
for something to happen to Uncle Brocky."
"We can do it. We _must_ do it," responded the schoolmaster.
Marty was round-eyed and unbelieving. "Say! you don't know Janice yet,"
he repeated with assurance. "She's a mighty smart girl--the smartest
girl in the whole of Polktown. Aw--well, you ought to know."
"I don't know how we are to do it--yet," the schoolmaster agreed. "We'll
just _have_ to. When people have to do a thing, Marty, _they do it nine
times out of ten_!"
"Hi tunket!" gasped the boy. "You tell me my part and I'll help all
right."
"Come on, then. Stroll in naturally. Make believe there is something
up--some joke that we are going to keep Janice out of----"
"Joke!" groaned Marty.
"I tell you," commanded Nelson hotly, "we've got to keep this from her.
Her father wounded--think of it!"
"Ain't I thinking of it?" put in the boy. "Uncle Brocky--that I never
did see since I was a kid too small to remember him."
"Pull yourself together, old man," said the schoolmaster with his arm
over the boy's shoulder.
Nelson's trust in him did much to enable Marty to brace up. He gulped
down his sobs and drew his jacket sleeve across his eyes. "You just tell
me what to do," he choked.
"I don't know myself yet. I'll keep this paper. I'll leave it to you to
divert the New York paper from the library. You can do that, for the
postmaster will give you the library mail if you're there on time for
it."
"I'll be there," Marty declared.
"We'll tell Walky----"
"Oh--Jehoshophat!" gasped Marty. "_He_ leaks like a sieve. Might's well
tell the town crier as tell Walky."
"We'll mend his leak," the schoolmaster said grimly. "Walky loves
Janice. We'll easily shut his mouth. Perhaps we can warn other people so
that no word will be let drop. I can learn, I suppose, who takes this
paper."
"Oh, hookey!" groaned Marty suddenly. "The hull town'll know it next
Thursday if they don't before."
"Why so?"
"That is the day the Middletown _Courier_ comes out. They had a big
piece in it about Uncle Brocky before. They'll grab this story like a
hungry dog does a bone. It's _news_."
"You have a head on your shoulders, boy," admitted Nelson Haley, and all
but groaned himself. He would not give way to despair. "I'll think about
that. I'll find some way of keeping the _Courier_ out of town."
"And Janice riding right over there to school four days a week,"
suggested Marty.
"I never thought of that," muttered Nelson.
"'Most everybody takes the _Courier_ here in Polktown. An', oh gee!
there's dad's _Ledger_. She might get hold of that."
"If you can't stop _that_ coming to the house you're no good," declared
Nelson.
"Oh, I'll stop it. Dad'll have a fit though. He swears by the _Ledger_.
But ma don't care for nothin' but the _Fireside Favorite_, and there
won't be any Mexican news in _that_."
"We must be on the watch to keep every line of communication closed--to
keep Janice ignorant of this at least until the facts are better known.
Perhaps they will be disproved. I'll write to-night to Washington. And
you get me the name of that friend of Mr. Broxton Day's down there on
the Border who communicated with Janice once before when it looked as
though your uncle was lost. Remember?"
"Sure!" agreed Marty.
"I'll tell Walky to-night. You find a chance to speak to your father and
mother. Be sure Janice doesn't hear you."
"Some job!"
"Well, it's _our_ job. Understand?" Nelson said earnestly.
"I'm with you, Mr. Haley," the boy responded, quite recovered from his
first disturbance of mind. "You can bank on me."
"Great boy!" Nelson said, patting him on the shoulder again. "Janice has
done so much--so much for the town, so much for us all! We should be
able to do something to secure her peace of mind, Marty."
"Hi tunket! I believe you, Mr. Haley."
"Then, come on! It may prove to be a false alarm as before. We'll save
her all the anxiety possible."
"Sure we will!" agreed the boy again with emphasis.
They re-entered the house; Marty was even able to call up a giggle and
winked broadly at Nelson as he hung up his hat and looked up the
parchesi board and the rest of the outfit for that popular game.
"What's a-goin' on now 'twixt you two boys?" asked Aunt Almira
comfortably, for she looked upon Nelson, when he came to the house, as
she would had he been Marty's brother. "D'ye know what's up, Janice?"
"I haven't an idea," her niece said happily. "I fancy Marty has a joke
on somebody."
"'Joke!'" repeated her cousin in such an unconsciously tragic tone that
the schoolmaster hastened to say:
"He thinks he is going to beat Walky playing parchesi. Come on, Walky.
Show him you have all your wits about you."
"I'm dumbed if I don't!" declared Mr. Dexter, laying aside his pipe to
cool. "Who else is a-goin' to play?"
"Not I," said Janice. "Christmas is coming and preparedness is my
motto."
"I want ma to play then," Marty said. "She an' I'll play partners and I
bet we beat Mr. Haley and Walky out o' their boots."
"Sakes alive, child! you don't want me to play, do ye?" chuckled Aunt
'Mira. "Your father says I ain't got head enough for any game--an' I
guess he's right."
"I'll risk ye," said her son, and they really had a very hilarious game
while Janice sewed placidly and Uncle Jason looked on, forgetting for
the time some of the burden on his mind.
"I'll go along with you, Walky," the schoolmaster said when the game
broke up and it was time for the callers to go. "I can cut through your
back lots to High Street and reach Mrs. Beaseley's quite as easily as by
the other route."
"Proud to hev ye," said Walky. "Good-night, folks. That 'pears to be a
funny lookin' necktie you're knitting for Mr. Haley, Janice."
"It's not a necktie and it's not for Nelson," Janice replied, flushing a
little and quickly hiding the fleecy article on which she had been
working.
"Oh well," chuckled Walky, "I don't 'spect we've got airy right to have
eyes in our heads even as long before Christmas as this time.
Good-night, everybody."
He went out. Nelson, although he lingered to say something in a low tone
to Janice, was right behind the expressman. He went up Hillside Avenue
with Walky talking to him seriously.
Marty became woefully nervous when the family was left alone. He went to
the water pail half a dozen times. He put out the cat; then let her in
again it seemed just for the purpose of shooing her out once more.
Janice, quite unconscious of her cousin's disturbance of mind, finally
put away her work and took up her candle.
"Good-night, all!" she said, yawning openly. She kissed her uncle's
cheek, and Aunt 'Mira returned with warmth the caress with which she was
favored. "Night, Marty."
"Huh!" the boy said huskily, "am I a stepchild? Don't I ever get kissed
no more?"
"Why, Marty Day!" cried Janice, laughing. "A great big boy like you! I
thought you abhorred such 'girlie' ways."
"Sometimes I do," he said, approaching her boldly. "But to-night----"
He seized her like a young bear and kissed her fiercely. "You're--you're
a mighty nice girl, Janice, if you _are_ only my cousin," he said,
averting his eyes.
She laughed and patted his cheek lightly. Then carrying the lighted
candle she went up to bed with a parting nod and smile to her uncle and
aunt.
Marty stood close to the stair door and listened at the crack till he
was sure she had entered her own room and closed her door. His mother
asked wonderingly:
"What ever is the matter o' you, Marty Day? I never see your beat."
"Sh!" the boy said, his face suddenly displaying all the fear and
anxiety he had been hiding.
His father took his bedtime pipe from his lips and stared. "What ever is
it's got you?" he asked.
The boy leaned over the table. Like conspirators, with their heads close
together, the three talked in whispers. After Aunt Almira's first
involuntary cry of horror, which she smothered at once, their voices
never reached a key that could have made them audible ten feet away.
Meanwhile the schoolmaster and Walky Dexter were in close consultation.
Nelson had made no mistake when he took the expressman into the plot.
Walky was by nature a chatterer and a gossip, but he would have cut off
his right hand rather than hurt Janice Day. While Janice made ready for
bed plans were forming to hide from her as long as possible--until the
newspaper story could be verified at least--that which had come over the
telegraph wires from Mexico.
The girl was less troubled by fears for her father's safety than she had
been for a long time. It was of Uncle Jason's trouble she thought. And
she was quite sure her father would be able to help his brother
considerably in straightening out the difficulty that confronted Jason
Day.
It had been figured out just what it would cost to renew the notes and
pay interest on them, if the bank would allow Mr. Day to do that. Over
seven hundred dollars per year! An enormous sum for Uncle Jason to
contemplate--while the principal would hang over him like a threatening
cloud. The interest money alone was more than he could easily earn over
and above the family's living expenses.
He had got into the toils of the cunning Hotchkiss through lending the
storekeeper a small sum at eight per cent, in the beginning and being
paid promptly. The bank carried the notes for six per cent, of course.
The morrow was Sunday. Janice went her usual calm way. People seemed
rather nicer to her than usual, but their attitude did not arouse her
suspicions in the least. At church there seemed to be more groups than
usual both before and after service who whispered together. Mr. Middler,
the pastor, who loved Janice as he might his own daughter, added a
warmer pressure to his handclasp. Mrs. Middler kissed her several times,
and Janice thought with some surprise that the affectionate woman had
been crying. Elder Concannon, that stern and bewhiskered patriarch who
had once looked upon Janice Day and her ideas as the very leaven of
unrighteousness in the community, strode over to the girl and rested his
hands upon her shoulders to make her look up at him.
"Ha!" he said. "Just as brave as ever, are you? You're not fearing the
future, my girl?"
"How can I when the past has been so lovely?" she asked him soberly.
"Ha!" and he wagged his head. "So _that's_ the way the past has seemed
to you, eh?"
He said no more; but Janice wondered what the matter was with Elder
Concannon. He was so seldom demonstrative.