Janice Day was a friendly little soul; but she was not a girl who
made those close friendships that so many girls make during their
schooldays. There was no one girl from whom she was almost
inseparable.
Janice was just as good friends with Amy Carringford as she was
with Stella Latham; only Amy had been attending the grammar
school a much shorter time than had the farmer's daughter.
Now circumstances attending Stella's proposed birthday party
caused Janice to become much better acquainted with Amy
Carringford. In seeking to do something for Stella, Janice was
determined to do something for Amy.
The Carringford family had taken up their residence during the
winter in Mullen Lane; and it must be confessed that Mullen Lane
was not considered an aristocratic part of the town. Of course,
poor people have to live where living is cheap; but it was said
that Mrs. Carringford, who was a widow, had bought the little
cottage--not much better than a hut--in which she and her little
family had taken up their dwelling.
Why people like the Carringford, manifestly well bred and
intelligent, had chosen Mullen Lane to live in puzzled not only
the busybodies, like Miss Peckham, of this part of Greensboro,
but amazed other people as well.
Wherever Mrs. Carringford appeared--at church, Or in the
neighborhood stores on Knight and Cassandra Streets--people saw
that she was a well bred woman, though plainly, even shabbily,
dressed.
There were several children besides Amy and the
Unfortunately-named Gumswith, and they dressed poorly, too. But
even if Gummy's trousers were patched at the knees, as Stella
Latham had pointed out, they were patched neatly, and his linen
was fresh.
Of course, nobody called on Mrs. Carringford; at least, almost
nobody. The rickety little cottage in Mullen Lane did not
attract callers by its outward appearance, that was sure. That
it was a shelter for a family that had been sorely tried by fate,
none of the neighbors knew.
It was Janice Day, when she made a frank attempt to know Amy
Carringford better, who began first to learn particulars about
the Carringford family. There was not much queer or mysterious
about them; merely they were people who failed to advertise their
private affairs to the community at large.
Janice had gained Stella Latham's promise that she would not tell
the secret of the party dress, if Amy should consent to borrow
it, before she sounded Amy as to whether she was going to accept
the invitation to
the party or not. According to Stella, who was really very silly
about such things, the birthday party was to be a very "dressy"
affair. Stella talked about this phase of it in season and out.
First of all, Janice demanded that one of the highly ornate
invitations Stella's mother had had printed in the Greensboro
Bugle printing office should be sent to Amy. There should be no
hedging, Janice determined, after that. Amy was to be asked like
the other girls and boys of their grade.
"But if she hasn't got a decent dress?" murmured Stella, when she
was mailing the invitation to Amy.
"I told you I'd see that she did have a party dress," Janice said
sharply. "I can't agree to find whole trousers for Gummy," and
she giggled; "so you needn't invite him if you don't want to.
But Amy will be all right."
"Maybe she will be too proud to wear your dress, Janice Day!"
exclaimed Stella.
"Then she won't come," rejoined Janice. "But you are not to tell
a soul that the dress is mine, if she does wear it."
"We-ell," sighed Stella, somewhat relieved.
The farmer's daughter knew that there would be much comment if
she left Amy off the invitation list. She was glad to leave the
matter in Janice Day's hands. And she did not remark again, at
least, not openly, upon Janice being "so sly."
Without being at all sly, Janice did go about doing something for
Amy Carringford with considerable shrewdness. She had never
walked home with Amy from school. She did not like the purlieus
of Mullen Lane. But this afternoon she attached herself to Amy
with all the power of adherence of a mollusk, and they were
chattering too fast to stop abruptly when they came to the comer
of Knight Street, where usually Janice turned off.
Mullen Lane touched Love Street at its upper end, so Janice could
go all the way to the Carringford house without going much out of
her way. She went on with Amy, swinging her books; and at first
Amy did not seem to notice that Janice was keeping with her right
into the muddy, littered lane on which she lived.
"Why, Janice!" said Amy, finally, "you are away out of your way."
"Oh, I can go up the lane to Love Street," returned Janice
carelessly, and just as though she were used to doing that.
Amy, who was a pretty, blonde girl, gazed at her companion rather
curiously; but Janice was quite calm.
"That is the house where I live," said Amy, in a changed tone, as
they came in sight of the cottage.
"Oh, yes," replied Janice.
Aside from the fact that the house needed paint and new window
shutters, and a new roof, and new planks for the piazza, and
numerous other things, it was not such a bad looking house.
Janice noticed something at first glance: it was only things that
poor people could not get or that a boy could not tinker that was
needed about the Carringford house to make it neat and
comfortable.
The fences were on the line, had been braced, and there were no
pickets missing. The gates hung true. The walks were neatly
kept and there were brilliant flower beds in front, for flower
seeds cost little. What the Carringford could do to make the
place homelike without spending money, had certainly been done.
"It's an awful place to live," ventured Amy, still gazing
sidewise at Janice.
"Oh," said the latter brightly, "you don't mean that! You are all
together and are all well."
"Yes, there are a lot of us." And Amy said it with a sigh. "It
seems as though there were an awful lot of children, now that
father's dead."
"Did you lose your father recently--just as I did my mother?"
asked Janice softly.
"Year and a half ago. That is why we came here, There was some
insurance money. Somebody persuaded mother to buy a home for us
with it. I don't know whether it was good advice or not; but she
bought this place because it was cheap. And she could not pay
for it all, at that; so I don't know but we're likely to lose the
money she put into it, and the old shack, too."
Amy spoke rather bitterly. Janice, with natural tact, thought
this was no time to probe deeper into the financial affairs of
the Carringfords. She saw Gummy, who was a year older than Amy,
in the yard. He had got home from school first, and he stared
when he saw Janice.
"Hullo, Gummy!" the latter called to the boy with the patched
trousers. "What are you doing there? Are you laying sod for a
border to that garden-bed?"
"No. I'm trimming an opera cloak with green ermine," said the
boy, but grinning. "What are you doing around here in Dirty-face
Lane?"
"Oh, Gummy!" exclaimed Amy.
"What a name to call the street!" objected Janice.
"Well, that's what it is," returned the boy, continuing to pound
the sod into place. "Nobody in this street ever washes his
face."
"Why Gummy Carringford!" exclaimed his sister again.
"I'm sure Amy washes her face whether you do or not," chuckled
Janice.
"Oh, me!" sniffed the boy, but his eyes still twinkling. "I'm
always 'gummy'!"
Janice's laughter was a silver peal that brought three or four
younger Carringfords, including the twins, to the side door.
They peered out at their sister and the girl with her, but were
bashful.
"What a jolly lot of little ones!" sighed Janice. "You know, Amy,
I'm all alone. I haven't any brothers or sisters."
"Don't you want to adopt me?" asked Gummy, who overheard her.
"I certainly would have to change your name," declared Janice.
"No," and he shook his head, his freckled face becoming grave.
"Got to stick to the old name--just like gum sticks."
"Oh, my dear, is that you?" cried Mrs. Carringford, coming to the
door, her brown face flushing pink. "And one of your
schoolmates?"
She came out on the porch. She had a very pleasant smile, Janice
thought, and her brown eyes were as bright as a woodpecker's.
"This is Janice Day. She's in my class, Mother," said Amy,
rather hesitatingly, it must be confessed.
"Yes, I know her name," said Mrs. Carringford, and now Janice was
near enough to take the hand of Amy's mother. "How do you do, my
dear? I have seen you before. I am always glad to meet Amy's
school friends."
Had it not been for the warmth of the good woman's greeting
Janice would have felt that she was unwelcome at the little
cottage on Mullen Lane. Amy seemed to hang back, and not invite
her schoolmate into the house.
"Here is something the postman brought you, Amy," her mother went
on briskly.
She reached inside the door to a shelf and brought forth an
object that Janice recognized. It was the big white envelope
containing the invitation to Stella Latham's party.
"Hi! I know what that is," cried Gummy, rising to look at the
envelope. "Lots of the fellows got 'em. That Latham girl that
lives out on the Dover pike is going to have a party. Crickey!
I didn't suppose she would invite us."
"She hasn't invited you I guess," his mother told him. "It is
addressed to your sister."
"Oh! I see."
Amy had flushed brightly, and her eyes sparkled. She was tearing
open the envelope eagerly.
"Oh!" she sighed, "I didn't expect this. Did you get yours,
Janice?"
"Yes, Stella asked me. But she didn't send out: all the
invitations at once," said Janice slowly,
"You'll go of course, won't you?"
"Why--"
Then suddenly Amy's voice stopped. She looked at her mother.
The glow went out of her face. She let one of the smaller
children take the invitation out of her hand.
"I don't know," she said slowly. "I'll have to see."
"Won't you come in, Janice?" asked Mrs. Carringford, seeking to
cover her daughter's embarrassment.
"I will for a minute, thank you," was Janice Day's smiling reply.
"You know, I like Amy, Mrs. Carringford, and I have never been to
her house before, and she has never been to mine."
Her speech helped to cover her friend's hesitation. Amy tripped
in behind Janice and suddenly gave her a hearty squeeze.
"She's an awfully nice girl, Mumsy!" she said to her mother.
Janice laughed. But her bright eyes were taking in much besides
the smiling expression on her friends' faces. The Carringford
kitchen was like wax. Mrs. Carringford had been washing in one
comer of the room, and there was a boiler drying behind the
stove. But there was nothing sloppy or sudsy about the room.
The woman had whisked off the big apron she had worn when Janice
entered, and now the latter saw that her work dress was spotless.
"Oh, dear me!" thought Janice, "how nice it would be if our
kitchen--and our whole house--were like this. How delighted Daddy
would be."
But there was something else she did not at first see. She had to
get acquainted with all the younger Carringfords. She must talk
with Mrs. Carringford. Gummy came in after washing his hands and
rubbing his shoes clean on the doormat to talk to the caller.
Then Amy carried Janice off upstairs to her own tiny room under
the eaves.
There was no carpet on the stairs. The matting on the floor of
Amy's room was much worn. There was nothing really pretty in the
room. Janice suddenly realized that this spelled "poverty."
Yet it was cheerful and speckless, and there were pictures of a
kind, and little home-made ornaments and a few books.
The window curtains were of the cheapest, but they were looped
back gracefully. There was a workbox and stand that Gummy had
made for Amy, for the brother was handy with tools.
Altogether there was something about the room, and about the ugly
little house as well, that Janice Day realized she did not have
at home. She had had it once; but it was not present now in the
Day house. In the Carringford dwelling the magic wand of a true
homemaker had touched it all.
The two girls chatted for almost an hour. It was mostly about
school matters and their friends and the teachers. Amy talked,
too, about friends in Napsburg, where the Carringfords had lived
before moving to Greensboro. Janice was adroit in keeping the
conversation on rather general topics, and did not allow the
question of Stella's party to come to the fore and never once did
she speak of what any of the girls would wear on that occasion.
The time to leave came, and then Janice felt she should enter the
wedge which would afterwards gain for her the desired end.
"You'll go to Stella's party, won't you?" asked Janice as she
prepared to go home.
"Oh, I don't know. I'll see," Amy hurriedly said.
"Of course you will go," Janice declared firmly. "I want you to
go with me. I sha'n't feel like going at all if you stay away,
Amy."
They kissed each other on the stairway, and then Janice ran home,
swinging her books. She thought the Carringford were very
pleasant people. But there were several mysteries about them.
First of all she wanted to know how Gummy came to have such an
awful, awful name!