A TIME OF TRIAL
Janice met Nelson Haley a couple of days later in Hopewell Drugg's
store. The matter had been decided ere then; Haley had obtained the
school and had quickly established himself in a boarding-place, as the
school would open the next week.
'Rill Scattergood and her mother had already gone to housekeeping in
three nice rooms just around the corner on High Street, and Mr. Haley
had the good fortune to be "taken in" by Mrs. Beasely. The gaunt old
widow was plainly delighted once more to have "a man to do for."
"If my digestion holds out, Miss Day," whispered the young man to
Janice, "I'm going to do fine with Mrs. Beasely. Good old creature! But
she may kill me with kindness. I don't see how I am going to be able to
do full justice to her three meals a day."
"I hope you will like it as well in school as you do at your
boarding-place," ventured Janice, timidly.
"Oh, the school? That's going to be pie," laughed Haley. "You know about
how it's been run, don't you?"
"I--I attended for more than a month last spring," admitted the girl.
"Then you know very well," said the young man, smiling broadly, "that it
won't be half a trick to satisfy the committee. They don't expect much.
'Just let things run along easy-like'; that will please them. If I can
keep the boys straight and teach the youngsters a little, that will be
about all the committee expects. Elder Concannon admitted that much to
me. You see, the whole committee are opposed to what they term
'new-fangled notions.'"
"But there is some sentiment in town for an improvement in the school,"
declared Janice. "Don't you know that? Many people would like to see the
children taught more, and the school more up-to-date."
"Oh, well," and Haley laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "The committee
seem to be in power, and--Well, Miss Day, you can be sure that I know
which side my bread is buttered on," he concluded, lightly.
Janice liked this bright, laughing young man very much. But she was
sorry he had no more serious interest in his position than this
conversation showed.
Then there suddenly came a time when Janice Day's own interest in
Poketown and Poketown people--in everything and everybody about
her--seriously waned. Daddy had not written for a fortnight. When the
letter finally came it had been delayed, and was not postmarked as
usual. Daddy only hinted at one of the belligerent armies being nearer
to the mines, and that most of his men had deserted.
There was trouble--serious trouble, or Daddy would not have kept his
daughter in suspense. Janice watched the mails, eagle-eyed. She wrote
letter after letter herself, begging him to keep her informed,--begging
him to come away from that hateful Mexico altogether.
"Broxton's no business to be 'way down there at all," growled Uncle
Jason, who was worried, too, and hadn't the tact to keep his feelings
secret from the girl. "Why, Walky Dexter tells me they are shootin'
white folks down there jest like we'd shoot squirrels in these parts."
"Oh, Jason!" gasped Aunt 'Mira. "It can't be as bad as that!"
"Wuss. They jest shot a rancher who was a Britisher, an' they say
there'll be war about it. I dunno. Does look as though our Government
ought ter do somethin' to protect Americans as well as Britishers. But,
hi tunket! Broxton hadn't ought ter gone down there--no, sir-ree!"
This sort of talk did not help Janice. She drooped about the house and
often crept off by herself into the woods and fields and brooded over
Daddy's peril. School had begun, and Marty went with several of the
bigger boys that had hung around Pringle's harness shop and the Inn
stables.
"That Nelse Haley is all right," the boy confided to his cousin. "We're
going to have two baseball teams next year. He says so. Then we kin have
matched games. But now he's goin' to send for what he calls a 'pigskin'
and he's a-goin' to teach us football. Guess you've heard of that, eh?"
"Oh, yes," said Janice. "It's a great game, Marty. But what about
school? Is he teaching you anything?"
Marty grinned. "Enough, I guess. Things goin' along easy-like. He don't
kill us with work, that's one thing. Old Elder Concannon's been up once
and sat an' listened to the classes. He seems satisfied."
Janice did not lose sight of Hopewell Drugg and little Lottie. The store
was now doing a fairly good business; but the man admitted that the
profits rolled up but slowly, and it would be a long time before he
could take his little daughter to Boston.
These fall days Janice was frequently with Miss 'Rill. The little maiden
lady seemed to understand better than most people just how Janice was
troubled by her father's absence, his silence, and his peril. Besides,
when old Mrs. Scattergood did not know, many were the times that 'Rill
and Janice went to Hopewell Drugg's and "tidied up" the cottage for him.
'Rill would not go without Janice, and they usually stole in by the side
door without saying a word to the storekeeper. He was grateful for their
aid, and little Lottie was benefited by their ministrations.
Then another letter came from Broxton Day. He admitted that the two
armies were very near--one between him and communication with his
friends over the Rio Grande--and that operations at the mine had
completely ceased. Yet he felt it his duty to remain, even though the
property was "between two fires," as it were.
Ere this Janice had sent off for an up-to-date map of northern Mexico
and the Texan border. She and Marty and Mr. Day had pored over it
evenings and had now marked the very spot in the hills where the mine
was located. The girl subscribed for a New York newspaper, too, and that
came in the evening mail. So they followed the movements of the Federal
and the Constitutionalist armies as closely as possible from the news
reports, and Janice read about each battle with deeper and deeper
anxiety.
Had her uncle and aunt been wise they would have interfered in this
occupation, or at least, they would not have encouraged it. Janice lost
her cheerfulness and her rosy cheeks. Aunt 'Mira declared she drooped
"like a sick chicken."
"Ye mustn't pay so much 'tention to them papers," she complained. "I
never did think much o' N'York daily papers, nohow. They don't have
'nuff stories in 'em."
But it was her own money Janice spent for the papers. Whenever Daddy had
written he had usually enclosed in his envelope a bank note of small
denomination for Janice. The bank in Greensboro sent the board money
regularly to Uncle Jason (and Aunt 'Mira got it for her own personal
use, as she declared she would), but Janice always had a little in her
pocket.
Had she been well supplied with cash about this time the girl would have
been tempted to run away and take the train for Mexico herself. It did
seem to her, when the weeks went by without a letter reaching her from
her father, as though he must be wounded, and suffering, and needing
her!
But she did not have sufficient money to pay her fare such a long
distance.
Aunt 'Mira was a poor comforter. Yet she fortunately aided in giving
Janice something else to think about just then. The girl had helped
"spruce up" Aunt 'Mira long since, so that they could go to church
together on Sundays. But now the good lady was in the throes of making
herself a silk dress for best--a black silk. It was the thing she had
longed for most, and now she could satisfy the craving for clothes that
had so obsessed her.
Aunt 'Mira loved finery. Janice had to use her influence to the utmost
to keep the good lady from committing the sin of getting this wonderful
dress too "fancy." Left to herself, Mrs. Day would have loaded it with
bead trimming and cut-steel ornaments. At first she even wanted it cut
"minaret" fashion, which would have, in the end, made the poor lady look
a good deal like an overgrown ballet dancer!
Janice had been glad to go to church. Always, before coming to Poketown,
the girl had held a vital interest in church and church work. But here
she found there was really nothing for the young people to do. They had
no society, and aside from the Sunday School, a very cut-and-dried
session usually, there was no special interest for the young.
Mr. Middler, the pastor, was a mild-voiced, softly stepping man,
evidently fearing to give offense. Although he had been in the pastorate
for several years, he seemed to have very little influence in the
community. Elder Concannon and several other older members controlled
the church and its policies utterly; and they frowned on any innovation.
One Sabbath, old Elder Concannon--a grizzled, heavy-eyebrowed man, with
a beak-like nose and flashing black eyes--preached, and he thundered
out the "Law" to his hearers as a man might use a goad on a refractory
team of oxen. Mr. Middler was a faint echo of the old Elder on most
occasions. He seemed afraid of taking his text from the New Testament.
It was Law, not Love, that was preached at the Poketown Union Church;
and although the dissertations may have been satisfactory to the older
members, they did not attract the young people to service, or feed them
when they _did_ come!
Janice often wondered if the loud "Amens!" of Elder Concannon, down in
the corner, were worth as much to poor little Mr. Middler as would have
been a measure of vital interest shown in the church and its work by
some of the young people of the community.
There was a Ladies Sewing Circle. There is always a Ladies Sewing
Circle! But, somehow, the making up of barrels of cast-off clothing for
unfortunate missionaries in the West, or up in Canada, or the sewing
together of innumerable ill-cut garments, which must, of course, be
"misfits" for the unknown infants for whom they were intended,--all this
never could seem sufficient to "feed the spirit," to Janice Day's mind.
Once or twice she went with Aunt 'Mira (who was proud of her new clothes
and would occasionally go about to show them, now) to the sewing
society meeting. But there were few other young girls there, and the
gossip was not seasoned to her taste.
One day came a letter from Daddy's friend and business associate in
Juarez. For three weeks Janice had not received a word from her father.
The man in Juarez wrote:
"DEAR MISS JANICE:--
"Communication is quite shut off from the district in which
your father's property lies. From such spies as have been
able to get to me, I learn that a disastrous battle has been
fought near the place and that the Constitutionalists have
swept everything before them. They have overrun that part of
Chihuahua and, that being the case, foreigners are not
likely to be well treated or their property conserved.
"I write this because I think it my duty to do so. You
should be warned that the very worst that can happen must be
expected. I have not heard directly from Mr. Day for a
fortnight, and then but a brief message came. He was then
well and free, but spoke of being probably obliged to desert
his post, after all.
"Just what has become of him I cannot guess. I have put the
matter in the hands of the consul here, the State Department
has already been telegraphed, and an inquiry will be made.
But Americans are disappearing most mysteriously every week
in Mexico, and I cannot hold out any hope for Mr. Day. He
may get word through to you by some other route than this;
if so, will you wire me at once?
"Sincerely yours,
"JAMES W. BUCHANAN."