"I hope something will happen so I can't go to Poketown," was the
thought continually rising to the surface of the troubled pool of
Janice Day's mind.
She did not know what Mrs. Carringford had said to daddy, nor how
much he had been influenced by that wise woman's observations
regarding this very matter. So, as the days went by, Janice
continued to fear the worst.
For the very worst that could happen, Janice thought, was for her
to be separated from her father and from her home. When the
possibility of his having to go to Mexico was first talked about,
the thought of their separation had made a very deep impression
on the girl's mind. She had never recovered--how could she?
--from the going away of her mother. If her father went out of
her life too, it seemed to Janice as though she would be an
orphan indeed.
So, without knowing anything personally about her Aunt Almira or
Uncle Jason or Marty, her cousin, the girl felt that their
association could in no way replace that of daddy.
"I just wish something would happen so that I couldn't go to
Poketown," was repeated over and over in her thought.
"Perhaps that is wicked," Janice told herself. "But wicked, or
not, it does seem as though it would just kill me to leave home."
After Mrs. Carringford had finished cleaning house, the home
seemed so much better and brighter that Janice loved it more than
ever. She did not want to leave Eight Hundred and Forty-five
Knight Street, even for a day.
"I don't care if Arlo Junior does toll cats into our back kitchen
and we entertain dancing bears and that half-crazy Delia and
folks like Mrs. Watkins or Olga Cedarstrom," she said to daddy.
"This is just the nicest house in all the world. Don't you think
so yourself, Daddy?"
"I never expect to have so much happiness in another house as I
have had in this one, my dear," Mr. Day said. "And we will hope
for more happiness here in the future. But my little girl must
not try to do everything. It is all right to be a homemaker; but
you must not try to do it all yourself. We must find somebody to
help, regularly."
Secretly Janice was urging Mrs. Carringford to come every day to
the house and keep it in that "neat as a new pin" condition in
which the sweet-natured woman had left it when the extra cleaning
was finished.
"But my dear child, how will my own house get along without me?
Amy cannot do it all, even if it is vacation-time."
"But, dear Mrs. Carringford, just think!" begged Janice. "Kate
and Sydney are both big enough to help Amy."
"And they are a team!" sighed Mrs. Carringford.
"They'll be good. They will do a good deal for me," said Janice
frankly.
"You bribe the twins."
"Oh, they are only teeny, weeny bribes, and of course children
expect pay when they do things for you. Look how eagerly Gummy
works for his pay," for Gummy was working every day for Mr.
Harriman now, and his wages had been doubled.
"Don't let him hear you catalogue him as a child," said the boy's
mother, smiling. "I must do nothing to neglect my own brood.
Yet I feel that I must earn money. Gummy's wages will not even
feed us. And it will last only until September. He must go back
to school again then."
"Then come and see daddy," urged Janice. "You know he'll be more
than glad to have you. Why, it would be just heavenly for us.
"I must think about it," said the over-urged woman. "If I could
get work in a store downtown I would have more regular hours
perhaps. For a home cannot be kept on an eight-hour-a-day
schedule."
But Janice hoped. To do something to bring about peace and
comfort for daddy and herself had been her determination for
weeks. If only Mrs. Carringford could be coaxed to agree, Janice
foresaw plain sailing.
This had been her hope ever since she had seen how perfectly
Amy's mother kept her own poor cottage. It had been her hope
when she had first brought Mrs. Carringford and Mr. Day together.
But would her hope come to fruition?
Nevertheless, she was happier now that she did not have to go to
school. She had time to work out of doors in the flowerbeds and
to get dainty little suppers, sometimes, for daddy.
Yet, at other times she was very tired. She showed daddy a
cheerful countenance almost always. But there were occasions
when Janice Day felt anything but cheerful "inside," as she
expressed it.
Somehow daddy seemed to guess, however, when she was not quite
herself during these sultry days, for often at breakfast he said:
"Daughter, dress yourself in your best bib and tucker and meet me
at the corner of Joyce Street at four-thirty. I'll be on the
Maplewood car and will save a seat for you. We will go out to
the Branch Inn for supper."
Such excursions delighted Janice, especially with daddy. It made
her feel positively grown up to be taken about by such a
well-groomed and handsome man as Broxton Day.
And almost everywhere they went people seemed to know daddy.
Even the managers and waiters at the inns and restaurants knew
him, for Mr. Day often attended business conferences and
luncheons with the bank's customers, at these places.
Sometimes very well dressed men came and sat down at their table
and talked business with Broxton Day. They were always very kind
and polite to Janice.
But whenever she heard Mexico and the Mexican mines mentioned,
the girl was worried and listened attentively. She knew that
those properties down beyond the Rio Grande in which her father
was interested so deeply, were still in a very uncertain state.
As yet dividends from her father's investment, she knew, had been
very small.
She thought daddy watched her very closely at times. His keen
glance seemed almost like that of a person "lying in wait" for
one. That was the way Janice expressed it to herself.
She did not understand what these looks meant. Did he doubt that
she was really quite as cheerful and happy as she would appear?
On her own part, after she had gone to bed, Janice Day listened
often for his step, to and fro, hour after hour, on the
honeysuckle-sheltered porch. Was he thinking about the lost
letters? Would neither he nor his daughter ever be able to get
over--to forget-- the mementoes of dear mother, and their
disappearance with Olga Cedarstrom?
Janice often cried herself to sleep thinking of this loss. But
she cried quietly so that daddy should not hear her; and she was
always very careful in the morning to remove all traces of tears
or sleeplessness before appearing in his presence at the
breakfast table.
"What's been done to-day, daughter?" was often daddy's question
at night, accompanied by one of his keenly interrogating glances.
When she catalogued the day's industries sometimes he shook his
head.
"But where is the fun? When do you play? What have you been
doing to celebrate your freedom from the scholastic yoke?" he
would demand.
"We-ell, you know, Daddy, I can't be a gadabout all the time--and
with Miss Peckham watching me from behind her blinds every time I
go out," and she giggled.
"Miss Peckham be eternally-- Hem! I don't suppose I can use
strong language in regard to the lady who has washed her hands of
us, can I?"
"Not very strong language, Daddy," she rejoined, laughing aloud
now.
"Well, in that case, we'll merely ignore our neighbor. That means
you, too, Janice; and you must play a little more in spite of
Miss Peckham."
"But, Daddy, I do play, as you call it. There was the picnic in
Emmon's Woods, and the straw ride to Clewitt--"
"And the picnic on the Latham farm to which I found you did not
go," interrupted daddy. "How about that, daughter?"
"Oh--oh--well, you know, Daddy, I--I--"
"What's all this stammering about, honey," asked daddy, putting
his arm about his daughter.
"Daddy, Amy and I just couldn't go to that picnic. Of course, it
was not given by Stella, but by all the boys and girls of our
crowd, but it was on Stella's farm. And-- Well, Daddy, Stella
doesn't really like Amy and me just now. It's nothing--just
about that dress Amy wore to Stella's party. I told you all
about that. Stella promised not to tell, you know, and then she
did. I'm not mad at Stella--I was, though, for a while--but
she's still mad at me. She'll be all right in a little while,
though, Daddy."
"I trust so, daughter. Do your best to make friends again. You
will all be happier if you are on a friendly footing with your
companions."
These first days of the long vacation were not really happy ones
for Janice, although she tried to make believe they were. All
the time she was hoping to herself that daddy would not insist on
her visiting his relatives in the East.
He had not really said that he contemplated sending her
willy-nilly, to Aunt Almira. Yet the girl felt that daddy
believed her health called for a change. And that was not what
she needed. She was sure that the air of Poketown would never in
this world make her feel any happier or healthier than she felt
right here at home in Greensboro.
"I just hope something will happen to keep me from going to
Poketown--or anywhere else," Janice repeated, over and over
again.
And then, it did happen. Nothing that she had imagined, of
course.
And this happening shocked Janice Day almost as much as anything
could. It came in the afternoon, when she was getting dinner for
daddy. She heard the clang of a gong, and an automobile stopped
before the house. She ran to the window. It was a white painted
ambulance-- not from the City Hospital, but a private ambulance.
And two men in white uniforms were preparing to take somebody on
a stretcher out of the car.