THE TROUBLE WITH NELSON HALEY
From that time on Janice refused longer to be in what she called "the
dumps." It was not her way to mope about; usually she cheered other
people and did not herself stand in need of cheering.
She made the operator go home to his family to spend Christmas
afternoon. When his call came Marty was to run over after him. This kept
the trio of friends from Poketown close to the railroad station all the
afternoon; but the interval was spent quite pleasantly.
Mrs. Maltby and her daughter came over, through the snow, to visit a
while with Janice--and to bring Marty the pie!--and several other
villagers dropped in. News of Janice's reason for being at Popham
Landing had been spread abroad, and the people who came were more than
curious--they were sympathetic.
The pastor of one of the churches, who was well acquainted with Mr.
Middler, left his own family for half an hour and came to the station to
ask if he could do anything of practical use for Janice. Had it been
wise the trio from Poketown could have accepted half a dozen invitations
for supper and evening entertainment.
"People _are_ so good!" Janice cried again to Haley and Marty. "I never
realized that mere strangers could be so very, very nice to one."
"Huh!" grunted Marty. "Ain't _you_ always nice to folks--an' doing
something for 'em? How do you like it yourself?" which remark made
Janice and Nelson Haley laugh very heartily.
So, after all, it _was_ a real Christmas, as Janice said. It was an odd
one, perhaps, but there were some very enjoyable things about it. For
instance, Janice and the young school-teacher got far better acquainted
than they had ever been before--and Janice had always liked Nelson
Haley.
In this present situation, Nelson stood out well. He was generous,
sympathetic, and helpful. The fact that he was inclined to pursue the
way of least resistance, and considered it right to "let well enough
alone," did not impress one so deeply at the present moment.
Janice learned that the young man had neither father nor mother, and
that his nearest relative was an old aunt who had supplied the money for
his college tuition--at least, such money as he had not been able to
earn himself. Nelson Haley, however, desired to be self-supporting, and
he felt that he had accepted all the assistance he should from the old
aunt, whose patrimony was not large.
"Old Aunty Peckham is just as good as she can be," he confided to
Janice; "but I realize now--have realized for some years, in fact--that
if she had not had me to worry about, she could have enjoyed many more
good things in life than she has. So I told her I'd come to the end of
accepting money from her whenever my own purse got low.
"I'll teach school in Poketown a couple of years and save enough to take
up law; or perhaps I'll get a chance in some small college. Only, to
teach in a real college means _work_," and he laughed.
"But--but don't you like to work?" queried Janice, doubtfully.
"Now, Janice! who really _likes_ work?" demanded the young man, lightly.
"If we can get through the world without much effort, why not take it
easily?"
"That is not _my_ idea of what we are put in the world for--just to
drift along with the current."
"Oh, dear, me! what a very strenuous person you are," said the young
man, still teasingly. "And--I am afraid--you'd be a most uncomfortable
person to have around all the time. Though that doesn't sound gallant, I
admit."
Janice laughed. "I tell you what it is," she observed, not at all shaken
by the young man's remark, "I shouldn't want to feel that there wasn't
something in life to get by going after it."
"'By going after it?'" repeated the young man, in some puzzlement.
"Yes. You say I'd be an uncomfortable comrade. And I expect you're
right. Especially for a downright _lazy_ person."
"Oh, oh!" he cried. "That was a hard hit."
"You're not really lazy, you know," she pursued, coolly. "You only
haven't been 'woke up' yet."
"I believe that's worse than your former statement," he cried, rather
ruefully now. "I suppose I _do_ drift with the current."
"Well!"
"What kind of a fellow do you expect to marry, Janice?" he asked, with a
twinkle in his eye.
"Why, I'll tell you," said the girl, practically and without a shadow of
false modesty. "I expect a man to prove himself good for something in
the world before he even _asks_ me to marry him."
"Goodness me! he must be a millionaire, or president, or something like
that?" chuckled Nelson.
"Nothing at all so great," she returned, with some heat. "I don't care
if he's right down _poor_, if only he has been successful in
accomplishing some really hard thing--something that shows the metal
he's made of. No namby-pamby young man for me. No, sir! They can keep
away," and Janice ended her rather serious speech with a laugh and a
toss of her head.
"I shall bear your strictures in mind, Miss Day," declared Haley, with
mock gravity. "I see very plainly what you mean. The young St. George
who wears your colors must have slain his dragon."
"At least," Janice returned, softly, "he must have shown his willingness
to kill the horrid thing."
The short winter day was already drawing to a close when the telegraph
sounder began to call the station. Marty ran out at once and brought
back the operator. He was quickly in communication with one of the great
New York papers and found that it was over the paper's private wire that
first authentic news from the Granadas district had arrived in the East.
The posse from Cida had found everything peaceful about the mines. The
guerrilla leader, Raphele, had decamped. There had been an execution on
the day John Makepiece had fled from the place; but the victims were
some unfortunate Indians. The bandit had not dared kill the remaining
American prisoner.
Mr. Broxton Day had managed to get into a shaft of the mine and there
had lain hidden until Raphele, and his gang, had departed. Now he had
gathered some of his old employees, and armed them with rifles hidden
all these months in the mine, and the property was once more under Mr.
Day's control and properly guarded.
Through the posse, Mr. Day made a statement to the newspapers, and to
his friends and fellow-stockholders of the mine, in the States. To
Janice, too, he sent a brief message of love and good cheer, stating
that letters to her were already in the mail.
The relief Janice felt is not to be easily shown. To be positive, after
these hours of uncertainty--and after the long weeks of worriment that
had gone before--that dear Daddy was really alive and well, seemed too
good to be true.
"Oh, do you suppose it _can_ be so?" she cried, again and again,
clinging to Nelson Haley's arm.
"Of course it is! Pluck up your courage, Janice," he assured her, while
Marty sniveled:
"Aw, say, Janice! Doncher give way, now. Uncle Brocky is all right an'
it would be dead foolish ter cry over it, when you kep' up your pluck
so, before."
"Well! to please you both!" choked Janice, trying to swallow the sobs.
"But--but----Come on! let's go home. Just think how worried Aunt 'Mira
will be."
So they shook hands with the telegraph operator and Janice thanked him
heartily. There were several other friendly folk of the neighborhood in
the waiting-room when the three friends came out of the office, and the
happy girl thanked them, too, for their sympathy.
It was quite dark when they got out into the cold again. The wind had
shifted a point or two since morning, but it was still in their favor.
Although the sun had set, the way up the lake was clearly defined. The
stars began to twinkle, and after the _Fly-by-Night_ was gotten under
way the course seemed plain enough before them.
Now Janice enjoyed the sail. She was no longer afraid, and her heart
beat happily. The ice boat made good its name on the trip to Poketown,
and Nelson Haley brought the craft to land beside the steamboat dock in
season for a late supper.
There was a crowd down at the lake's edge to see them come in. News of
their trip to the Landing, and the reason for it, had been well
circulated about town; and when Marty shouted to some of his boy friends
that "Uncle Brocky was found--and he warn't dead, neither!" the crowd
started to cheer.
The cheers were for Janice--and she realized it. The folks were glad of
her father's safety because they loved her.
"People are so kind to me--they are so kind to me!" she cried again, and
then she _did_ burst into tears, much to Marty's disgust.