Daddy, of course, laughed. If it had not been for his sanguine
temperament, and his ability to see the funny side of life,
Janice often wondered what they should do.
"They say," she thought, "that every cloud has a silver lining.
But to dear daddy there is something better than silver linings
to our clouds. Something to laugh at! I wonder if, after all,
being able to see the fun in things isn't the biggest blessing in
the world. I am sure Miss Peckham isn't happy, and she never
sees anything funny at all! But daddy--"
When she told him at dinner time how Delia had departed on the
rubbish wagon with her angry father, Broxton Day laughed so that
he could scarcely eat.
"But what are we going to do?" cried Janice.
"Don't be a little Martha, honey, troubled with many things. I
would have given a good deal to have seen that departure. 'Good
riddance to bad rubbish,' is an old saying back in Vermont where
I was brought up, Janice. And Delia going in the rubbish wagon
seems fitting, doesn't it?"
"It was funny," admitted his little daughter. "But what shall we
do?"
"Why, try the next applicant," said Broxton Day easily. "I will
look in at the agencies again."
"I'm afraid that won't do any good, Daddy," sighed Janice.
"Delia came from the agency, and you see what she was like. And
Olga--"
"No," interrupted Mr. Day, "Olga came direct from Pickletown."
"Well, it doesn't matter. There were plenty of others from the
agencies, all as bad or worse than Olga and Delia," and Janice
looked much downcast.
"Oh, little daughter, little daughter!" admonished Mr. Day,
"don't give way like that. Some time, out of the lot, we'll find
the right person."
"Well, maybe," agreed Janice, cheerful once more. "I guess we've
already had all the bad ones. Those that are left to come to us
must be just ordinary human beings with some good and some sense
mixed in with the bad."
It proved to be a very busy day, indeed, for Janice-- that
Saturday. But she did not overlook her promise to Amy
Carringford. Yet it was mid-afternoon when she started for
Mullen Lane with the pink and white party dress in a neat package
over her arm.
Janice could not overlook the poverty-stricken appearance of the
Carringford cottage. It could not, indeed, be ignored by even
the casual glance. But its cleanliness, and everybody's neatness
about the little dwelling, portrayed the fact that here was a
family putting its best foot forward. Mrs. Carringford was
proud. Janice Day knew that she must be very cautious indeed if
she would see Amy adorned with her own finery.
"Dear Mrs. Carringford," she whispered to her friend's mother,
"I've got a surprise for you. I want Amy to come upstairs with
me, and by and by, when we call you up, please come and look into
her room."
Amy, according to agreement, had said nothing about the dress to
her mother. She was eager, but doubtful just the same.
"I don't think it is right, Janice," she declared, over and over.
"I don't see how I can accept the dress from you, when I have
nothing to give in return."
"Oh, that is a very niggardly way to receive," cried Janice,
shaking her head. "If we can't accept a present save when we can
return it--why, daddy says that is the most selfish thought in
the world."
"Selfish!"
"For sure! We are too selfish to allow other people to enjoy
giving. Don't you see? It's fun to give."
"But it is not fun to be the object charity," complained Amy,
with some sullenness.
"Why, my dear," exclaimed Janice Day, "you are not always going
to be poor. Of course not. Some day you will be lots better
off. Gummy will grow up and go to work, and then you will all be
well off. And, besides, this sort of giving, between friends,
isn't charity."
"Gummy wishes to go to work now," sighed Amy. "But mother wants
to keep him at school."
"He might work after school and on Saturdays."
"Oh, that would be fine! But who would give him such a job? You
see, we do not trade much with the storekeepers, and mother isn't
very well known--"
"You wait!" exclaimed Janice. "I believe I know somebody who
needs a boy."
"Oh, I hope you do, Janice."
Meanwhile Amy was getting into that lovely, dainty dress again.
"You do look too sweet for anything in it," Janice declared. The
latter ran out to the stairs and called to Mrs. Carringford.
"Oh, do come up and look! Do, Mrs. Carringford!"
She kept Amy's bedroom door shut, and held Mrs. Carringford for a
moment at the top of the stairs.
"Oh, Mrs. Carringford," she murmured, "don't you want to make two
girls just awfully happy?"
"Why, my dear child--"
"You know, I have been growing just like a weed this past year.
Daddy says so. I have outgrown all the pretty clothes my--my
mother made me for last summer, and which of course I could not
wear. Amy is just a wee bit smaller than I "
"My dear!"
"Wait!" gasped Janice, almost in tears she was so much in
earnest. "Just wait and see her! And I want her to go to the
party. And there are stockings, and pumps, and a hat, and
everything! Look at her!"
She flung open the bedroom door. Amy stood across the room from
them, flushing and paling by turns, and looking really
frightened, but, oh! so pretty.
"Why, Amy!" murmured Mrs. Carringford, her own cheeks flushing.
What mother can look at her little daughter when she is
charmingly dressed without being proud of her? She turned
questioningly to Janice.
"Does your father know about this?"
"Daddy quite approves," said Janice demurely. "I never could get
any wear out of them. You can see that, Mrs. Carringford.
"And if you let Amy wear them, we'll both be so happy!"
Mrs. Carringford kissed her. "You are a sweet, good child," she
said rather brokenly. "I don't blame Amy for loving you."
So it was agreed that Amy should wear the party dress. Janice had
errands to do at the store, and she begged for the company of
Gummy Carringford to help her carry the things she bought.
"You know, I can't carry them all, and sometimes Harriman's
delivery doesn't get around until midnight and we have to get up
and take the things in."
"Come on," said Gummy, who knew about the dress for his sister,
"I'll carry anything you want."
But Janice really had another reason for getting Gummy
Carringford to Harriman's store. She maneuvered to get Mr.
Harriman himself to wait on her, and when Gummy was out of
ear-shot she began to confide in the proprietor.
"Do you see that boy who is with me, Mr. Harriman?" she asked.
"Oh, yes. I've seen him before I guess. One of your neighbors?"
"He goes to our school. And he is a very nice boy."
"What's his name?"
"His name is 'G. Carringford'," Janice told demurely.
"Oh! 'G?'" queried Mr. Harriman. "Is that all?"
"Well, you know, it isn't his fault if he has dreadful name," she
said. "And it doesn't really hurt him. He can work just as
hard--and he wants work."
"I thought you said he went to school?"
"After school and on Saturdays," she explained. "He doesn't know
you, Mr. Harriman, so I suppose he is bashful about speaking to
you. But you know him now, because I introduced G. Carringford.
Won't you try him?"
The outcome of this attempt to help the Carringfords was one of
the many things Janice had to confide to daddy that evening. As
she told him, she had put little dependence upon the hope of
finding another houseworker easily. And that was well, for Mr.
Day had found nobody at the agencies. He would not trust
engaging a girl again, unseen.
"Perhaps next week will bring us good fortune, my dear," he said.
"How did you get on to-day, all alone? I see the silver has been
polished."
"Only some of it, Daddy. And I have been a busy bee, now I tell
you."
"Bravo, my dear! The busy bee makes the honey."
"And has a stinger, too," she replied roguishly. "I guess Arlo
Junior thinks so."
"So Junior came over according to promise?" said her father,
interested.
"Yes, indeed. And he did work, Daddy! You should have seen
him."
"The vision of Arlo Weeks, Junior, working really would be worth
the price of admission," chuckled Broxton Day.
"That isn't the worst of it--for Arlo," said Janice gaily. "You
see, his helping me clean up that back kitchen got him a bad
reputation."
"Why, Janice! How was that?"
"Oh, he did the cleaning very well. As well as it could be done.
That soft coal made marks on the walls that never will come off
until they are painted again. It's awful smutchy--that coal."
"I know," agreed Broxton Day. "But about Arlo?"
"I'm coming to that," she said smiling. "You see, Arlo Junior
was just about through when his mother come over looking for him.
She wanted him to go on an errand. She saw what he had been doing
for me, for he had an apron on and the broom in his hand."
"Caught with the goods, in other words?" chuckled Mr. Day.
"Yes. And we couldn't tell her why he was helping me. So she
said right out:
"'Why, Arlo Junior! If you can help Janice like this-- and you
and she were fighting the other day--you can come right home and
clean out the woodshed. It needs it.'
"And--and," laughed Janice, "he had to do it. He worked pretty
near all day to-day. And he scowled at me dreadfully this
afternoon."
"He will be playing other tricks on you," warned her father.
"Well, there will be no Olga to make them worse," she sighed.
"That is one sure thing. Oh, dear, Daddy, I wonder where she
is--and the treasure-box! It is too, too hateful for anything!"
"I called up the pickle factory where Willie Sangreen works.
They had heard nothing from him. It looks as though Olga and he
must have gone away together. Stole a march on all their friends
and got married, maybe."
"But why should she take my treasure-box?" cried Janice. "Oh,
Daddy! I can never forgive myself for my carelessness."
"Don't worry, child. You could not really be blamed," he
rejoined sadly.
"But that doesn't bring back mother's picture and the other
things," murmured the anxious Janice, watching his clouding face.
As always when they were alone, daddy washed the supper dishes
and Janice dried them. Daddy with an apron on and his sleeves
rolled up, and a paper cap on his head (she made him wear that
like a regular "chef"), made a picture that always pleased his
daughter.
"I think you would make a very nice cook, Daddy dear? she often
told him. "In fact, you seem to fit in almost anywhere. I guess
it's because you are always ready to do something."
"Flattery! Flattery!" he returned, pinching her cheek.
"But it is so, you know, Daddy. You always know what to do--and
you do it."
"That is what they tell me at the bank," said Mr. Day, with
rather a rueful smile. "This Mexican mine business is developing
some troubles, and they want me to go down there and straighten
them out."
"Oh, Daddy!" she cried breathlessly.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "That is what I tell them. I
cannot leave you alone."
"But take me!" she cried, almost dancing up and down.
"Can't be thought of, Janice. That is a rough country
--and you've got to stick to school, besides. You know, my dear,
we had already decided on that."
"Yes, I know," she sighed. "But of course you won't go away and
leave me? We--we've never been separated since--since dear mamma
died."
"True, my dear. And we will not contemplate such separation. I
have told them at the bank it would be impossible." It was not
of their own troubles that they talked mostly on this evening,
however, but of some other people's troubles. After they were
out of the kitchen and settled in the living-room, Janice began
to tell him about the Carringfords. "They are just the nicest
people you ever saw Daddy. Amy and Gummy are coming over here
tomorrow after Sunday School so that you can meet them."
"'Gummy'!" ejaculated Mr. Day.
Janice told him all about that boy's unfortunate name.
"You see," she explained, "Mrs. Carringford told me herself this
afternoon that his Uncle John Gumswith was a very nice man."
"Seems to me," said daddy, quite amused, "that doesn't make the
boy's name any less unfortunate. And have they never even heard
of the uncle since he went to Australia?"
"No, sir."
"Well," chuckled Mr. Day, "Gummy had better go to the Legislature
and get his name changed. That's a handicap that no boy should
have to shoulder."
"It is awful. And it makes Gummy shy, I think. He wanted to
work after school hours and on Saturday. But he didn't seem to
know how to get a job. So I," Janice proceeded quite in a
matter-of-fact way, "got him one."
"You did!"
"Yes, Daddy. I went to Mr. Harriman, the grocer. You know we
trade there. And I know that he can use a boy just as well as
not. So I told him about Gummy--"
"Did you tell Harriman his name?" chuckled her father.
"I said he was 'G. Carringford,'" Janice replied, her eyes
twinkling. "But you needn't laugh. Mr. Harriman did."
"Did what?"
"Laugh; I really wanted Gummy to take a nom de plume, or whatever
it is they call 'em."
"An alias, I guess it would be, in Gummy's case," said her
father. "And wouldn't he?"
"No," said Janice, shaking her head. "Gummy seems to think that
he's in honor bound to stick up for his name. That is what he
says."
"Amen! Some boy, that!"
"He's a nice boy," declared Janice. "You'll see. And he got the
job."
"Oh, he did! So I see that my Janice is a real 'do something'
girl."
"Why, yes, I hadn't thought of that," she agreed, all smiles at
his praise. "I did do something, didn't I? Gummy is going to
work for Mr. Harriman, and that'll help them. But it was about
Amy and Stella Latham's party I wanted to tell you"
"Oh, was it, indeed?" her father murmured.
She related the circumstances attached to the coming party and
Amy Carringford's reason for not being able to go.
"And you ought to see Amy in that pink and white dress. She's
just too sweet for anything!"
"All right, daughter. I agree to give your little friend the
frock if her mother is willing."
"I just made Mrs. Carringford agree," said Janice, bobbing her
head earnestly. "They are awfully proud folks."
"With a proper pride, perhaps."
"I guess so. They are real nice anyway--even if Gummy does wear
patched pants."
"And does he?" asked daddy, seriously. "Perhaps we had better
look through my Wardrobe in his behest."
"But, Daddy! he can't wear your clothes. He'd be lost in them,"
Janice giggled.
"True. But his mother may know how to cut the garments down and
make them over for the boy? You ask her, Janice. I will lay out
a couple of suits that I will never be able to wear again."
And so they forgot their own troubles, for the time being, in
seeking to relieve those of some other people.