AT HOME
The rear room of Massey's drugstore, behind the prescription counter,
was the usual meeting place of the Polktown schoolboard. There was, it
is true, a well furnished board-room in the new school building; but
habit was strong in the community and as long as the bespectacled
druggist held a vote in school matters the important business of the
board would be done here.
The day Nelson Haley had left them in the lurch and they had to scurry
about to obtain the services of a substitute principal for the Polktown
school, the board gathered after supper at Massey's in a very serious
mood. There was considerable indignation expressed at the young
schoolmaster's course. Even Mr. Middler looked gravely admonitory when
he spoke of Nelson. Massey sputtered a good deal over it.
"That jest about fixes him with _me_," he said. "Leavin' us in a hole
this way to go traipsin' off to the Mexican Border after that gal and
Marty Day. He'd better hunt a new job when he comes back."
"Let us not be hasty," Mr. Middler said, but half agreeing.
It was Cross Moore who took up the matter from an entirely different
point of view. He was usually a man of few words and he was not voluble
now; but what he said drew the surprised and instant attention of
everyone.
"Did it ever occur to you," he drawled, "that mebbe we owe Nelson Haley
something?"
"Owe him? No, we don't," snapped Massey, the treasurer. "I gave him his
check up to the fifteenth day of December only two days ago."
"Something money can't pay for," pursued the unruffled selectman. "You
know, we were pretty hard on him all last summer. About them lost gold
coins, I mean."
"Well! we gave him his job back, didn't we?" asked Crawford.
"True, true," the minister joined in.
"Well, what ye goin' to do about his runnin' off an' leavin us in this
fix?" bristled Massey, glaring about at his fellow committeemen.
"I move you, Mr. Chairman," said Cross Moore quietly, "that we give Mr.
Haley a vacation--with pay."
"Oh, by ginger!" gasped the excited druggist. "For how long, I sh'd
admire to know?"
"Till he returns with Janice Day," said Cross Moore.
"I--I second the motion," stammered the minister.
And this decision--finally passed without a dissenting voice--made no
more stir in the community than did several occurrences during the days
that immediately followed.
Polktown was indeed stirred to its depths. Nelson's hasty departure to
"bring back Janice and that Day boy," as it was said, was but one of
these surprising happenings.
Something happened at Hopewell Drugg's that excited all the women in the
neighborhood.
"Jefers-pelters!" was Walky Dexter's comment. "They run together like a
flock o' hens when the rooster finds the wheat-stack. Sich a catouse ye
never _did_ hear! Ye'd think, ter listen to 'em, there'd never been a
baby born in this town since Adam was a small child--er-haw! haw! haw! I
dunno what they would ha' done, I'm sure, if it had been twins."
Uncle Jason came very near to being a deserted husband for a week. Aunt
'Mira seemed determined to live at Hopewell Drugg's. He finally plodded
across town and entered the store on the side street with determination
in his soul and fire in his eye. The store chanced to be empty, but from
the rear room came the wailing notes of Hopewell's violin. Yet there was
a sweetness to the tones of the instrument, too, even to Jason Day.
Uncle Jason halted and his weather-beaten face lost its hardness and
the light of battle died out of his eyes.
"'Rock-a-bye, baby! on the tree-top,'"
wailed the old tune. Uncle Jason tiptoed to the doorway. Hopewell, with
the instrument cuddled under his chin, was picking out the old song, but
falteringly.
"And there's jest _glory_ in his face," muttered Uncle Jason.
"Oh, Mr. Day!" exclaimed the storekeeper, awakening suddenly and laying
down his violin with tenderness. "Did--did you want something?"
"Wal, I _was_ bent on gittin' my wife. But I reckon I might's well lend
her to ye a leetle longer, an' be neighborly. How's the boy?"
"They tell me, Mr. Day, that he's a wonderful child," Hopewell said
seriously.
"I bet ye!" chuckled Uncle Jason. "They all be. Wal, as I can't have
Almiry, ye might's well give me a loaf of bread. Gosh! boughten bread's
dry stuff!--an' some o' that there quick-made puddin' ye jest hafter add
water to.
"Somehow," continued Mr. Day, "I can't get along very well without
_some_ dessert. Been useter it so many years, ye know. And them
doughnuts Almiry left me seemed jest to melt away like an Aperl
snowstorm."
"You better wait a little, Mr. Day," said the storekeeper, smiling. "I
heard your wife tell mine that she thought everything would be all right
now, and she was fixin' to go home."
"Thanks be!" exclaimed Mr. Day devoutly.
"You been in deep trouble yourself, Mr. Day," said Hopewell.
"Yep. But I see the clouds liftin'," Uncle Jason said, licking his lips
and leaning both hands on the counter. "Them bank folks sartainly was
right arter me. Houndin' the court to order me sold up--they did so!
"But when that telegram come from my son down there on the Border about
Tom Hotchkiss"--Jason Day said "my son," oh, so proudly!--"I showed it
to the judge an' he granted stay of per-ceedin's.
"'Course, we ain't heard nothin' more from Marty and Janice. But I
reckon they air busy a-rescuin' of Broxton Day. When _that's_ done we'll
l'arn all about Tom Hotchkiss.
"Did you say my wife would be ready to go hum soon?"
"Yes. You see," said Hopewell cheerfully, "Grandma Scattergood is going
to stay with us now."
Uncle Jason was no more startled by this announcement than he would have
been had he looked into the sitting room behind the store just then and
seen the birdlike little old woman sitting close beside the cradle which
she was rocking with an industrious foot.
Mrs. Day was putting on her bonnet before the looking-glass and trying
the strings in a neat bow-knot between two of her chins. In a cushioned
chair, well wrapped from any possible draught, sat 'Rill, the roses gone
from her cheeks but with a wonderful light in her eyes.
Mrs. Scattergood was leaning forward to scrutinize the baby in the
cradle. His eyes were wide open and he was staring quite as earnestly at
Mrs. Scattergood. Suddenly he screwed up his tiny face into what _might_
have been a smile.
"For the Good Land o' Goshen!" gasped Mrs. Scattergood.
She turned suddenly and beckoned to little Lottie, who stood beside Mrs.
Drugg's chair.
"Lottie, come here," she commanded.
The little girl went to her and stood looking down into the cradle, too.
Mrs. Scattergood put an arm about her and drew her down closer, looking
first into the baby's face and then into the luminous violet eyes of
Lottie.
"For the Good Land o' Goshen!" she repeated. "Do you know, 'Rill, the
blessed baby's got eyes jest like Lottie? An' I believe his nose is
goin' to be like hers, too.
"Fancy! He favors Hopewell's side of the fam'bly a whole lot more than
he does ourn. Wal! I allus have said that the Druggses was
well-favored."
"There could be nothing more to add to my happiness if my boy should
look like his father," her daughter said softly.
"I never hope to live to see the Millennium," remarked Aunt 'Mira as she
went back across town with Mr. Day. "I had a great-aunt that was a
Millerite and give away all her things an' climbed up on to the house
roof expectin' the end of the world an' to be caught up into Glory--only
she fell off the roof an' broke her hip an' the world didn't come to an
end anyway.
"Howsomever, I consider I've seen what 'most matches the Millennium."
"What's that?" demanded her puzzled spouse.
"Miz' Scattergood a-huggin' little Lottie on the one hand an' cooin' to
that baby in the cradle on t'other. Does beat all what fools babies make
of us women," and she laughed, though she wiped the tears away.
"Don't you mean angels, 'stead o' fools?" asked Uncle Jason.
* * * * *
It was true that Frank Bowman was very busy about this time. The last
spike was driven to affix the rails of the V. C. branch road to Polktown
and he was working like a Trojan to make all ready for the regular
running of trains to and from the main line. But there were people in
Polktown who never would forgive him for suppressing certain telegrams
that reached him from the Southwest about this time.
[Illustration: A rising murmur went through the crowd; then they
cheered.]
"There ain't no excuse for a man bein' a hawg," Walky Dexter afterward
declared. "Frank might ha' intermated what was comin' off when the fust
train was due ter pull into Polktown; I sha'n't never feel jest the same
towards him again."
Half the town had turned out to welcome the initial train. The stores
were trimmed with bunting and many of the residences displayed flags, as
though it were the Fourth of July or Memorial Day.
Mr. Middler was scheduled for a speech. He made it, too; but not quite
the speech the good minister had intended. For it was his eyes that
first identified one of the passengers on the incoming train. Before the
locomotive halted Mr. Middler uttered a very robust shout and rushed to
the steps of the first passenger car, his hands outstretched.
"Janice! Janice Day!"
A rising murmur went through the crowd; then they cheered. The girl
stood smiling on the platform looking out over the crowd, and when they
cheered such a fire of pride and delight flashed up in her countenance
and sparkled from her hazel eyes as nobody had ever seen before.
"Oh--_folks!_" she murmured, stretching her hands out to them.
Frank Bowman stood at one side, smiling broadly. "We're not celebrating
the opening of the railroad branch," he said to Elder Concannon, "half
as much as we are celebrating the home-coming of Janice Day."
Janice went down the steps into Mr. Middler's arms. Directly behind her
was a man with his arm in a sling who looked enough like Jason
Day--though younger and sprucer--to be identified as Janice's father.
Then came Marty grinning so broadly that, as Walky Dexter declared, it
almost engulfed his ears! Lastly came Nelson Haley, walking with his
head up and a smile of great confidence on his face.
"Jefers-pelters!" said Walky. "I guess schoolmaster's quite some punkins
again in his own estimation. It ain't done _him_ no harm to go down
there to Mexico."
There was a great deal of public congratulation and welcome for the
party from the Border; but it was that evening, in the broad sitting
room of the old Day house on Hillside Avenue, when the excitement of the
home-coming had worn off, that the family party began to realize the
adventurous weeks that had elapsed were finally all behind them.
The wind soughed eerily in the trees about the house--"working up a
storm for Christmas," Uncle Jason prophesied. Marty brought in an armful
of knotty chunks and fed the great, air-tight stove.
They gathered around the fire, for supper was over and Aunt 'Mira and
Janice had come in from the kitchen. Nelson had managed to secure the
chair next to Janice. Mr. Jason Day and his half-brother sat side by
side.
"Well," said Marty, blowing a huge sigh, "this ain't much like Mexico."
"I sh'd hope not!" exclaimed his mother, seeking her knitting in the
basket on the shelf under the table. "That's a reg'lar heathenish land,
I expect."
"It sure is!" agreed her son with fervor. "Why, d'you know what they
live on, Ma?"
"I guess you didn't git home fodder down there, Marty," said Mrs. Day,
chuckling comfortably. "What _do_ they live on?"
"Beans," said the boy in a sepulchral tone. "An' say! I've busted your
bean-pot. Don't you dast give me pork an' beans for a year come next
Christmas."
They laughed. It was easy to laugh now--for all the party. Humor did not
have to be of a high order to bring the smiles to their lips, for a deep
and abiding happiness dwelt in all their hearts.
Mr. Broxton Day looked around the old and well-remembered sitting room.
"It looks about the same as it did when I was a boy, Jase," he said.
"Yep. Almiry's kep' things about as when ma was with us."
"Almira is a wonderful woman," said Broxton Day, smiling across at his
sister-in-law.
"You be still, Brocky Day," said Aunt 'Mira, bridling.
"Yes," he told her gravely. "For you've kept the spirit of the old home
alive here, too."
"She and Janice," said Marty.
"Dunno what we would do without _Janice_," Aunt 'Mira said, quick to
turn the compliment.
"Ain't it so?" echoed Uncle Jason. "And you comin' hum--right back from
the grave as ye might say, Broxton--is more'n a delight to us. It's a
blessin'. What you tell me about that--that derned Tom Hotchkiss----"
"Don't cuss, Jason--an' you a perfessin' member," urged his wife.
"How you goin' to speak of sech a reptile like him without cussin', I
wanter know?" grumbled Uncle Jason.
"Well, he's got his," said Marty briskly. "He had all that money hid
away in banks, and was just goin' to lay low till things blew over and
then he'd set up housekeepin' in that red vest of his somewhere else,
an' live easy. But that vest o' his has sort o' faded, ain't it?"
"Hopewell Drugg's got in some real pretty knitted ones," murmured Aunt
'Mira, picking up a dropped stitch.
Marty gaped in surprise.
"Real pretty _what_?" demanded her husband sharply.
"Vests. D'ye want one for your Christmas, Jason?"
"Oh, cricky!" ejaculated Marty. "I seen 'em hanging there in his window
when I went over this afternoon before supper. Dad, they are fully as
gay as Tom Hotchkiss' was."
"I bet you was over there to see Lottie Drugg," said his mother quickly.
"What if I was?" demanded the bold, yet blushing Marty. "I dunno nobody
in Polktown I was gladder to see than Lottie, 'nless 'twas you, Ma."
"Ahem!" said Mr. Jason Day. "An' he proberbly won't say that many more
times, Almiry. So make the most of it."
"Yes," Janice said softly. "Marty's growing up."
At this the youth grew red in the face and bit his lip. But then he
straightened up boldly, as if he were a soldier.
"Huh! speak for yourself, Janice Day. You've _grown_ up, you have! You
ought to have seen all those greaser army officers dancin' around after
her," and he cast a teasing glance at Nelson.
"You can't bother me, young man," replied the schoolmaster, smiling
broadly.
"I guess I'm the only one to be bothered at all by our Janice's growing
up," her father said a little seriously. "Just as I have her again I
seem next door to losing her."
Janice got up, crossed the room, and kissed him; but her glance was warm
for Nelson as she did so.
The muffled tones of the old grandfather's clock in the hall clashed the
hour of ten. Uncle Jason reached down The Book from the corner of the
mantelpiece and opened it, reading that night the story of the happiness
of another family whose brother came back from the grave.
THE END
=Transcriber's notes:=
Text in smallcaps was surrounded with =
The following typos were corrected:
- pg 45: Alderice Mine -> Alderdice Mine
- pg 77: Deacon Bloodgett -> Deacon Blodgett
The following inconsistencies were *not* harmonized:
- fam'bly / fambly
- rawboned / raw-boned
- tight-wad / tightwad
In this ASCII-encoded text version, accented characters were rendered
as ['e], ['E], [`e], ['i], and [~n]
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mission of Janice Day, by Helen Beecher Long