It was such a happy surprise for Mrs. Carringford-- and for Gummy
as well--that they were well prepared for the piece of bad news
which Mr. Payne had first told to Mr. Broxton Day. A five
hundred dollar loss on the Mullen Lane property did not look so
big when it was understood that, through Gummy, the Carringfords
were going to get almost ten thousand dollars.
It seemed that more than a year before, Mr. John Gumswith, of
Melbourne, Australia, had died, leaving a considerable fortune to
friends he had made there and with whom he had lived for more
than a dozen years. But he had left a legacy, too, "to any son
that my brother, Alexander Carringford, of Cleveland, Ohio, U. S.
A., may have had who has been duly christened 'Gumswith' after
me, to perpetuate my family name."
"Of course," said Mr. Payne, dryly, "nobody challenged the will,
and so it was probated. I should, myself, doubt the good sense
of a man who would fasten such an ugly name upon a boy whom he
had never seen, and who never did him any harm--"
"Mr. Payne," breathed Gummy, when he heard this, and earnestly,
"for ten thousand dollars I'll let anybody call me anything he
wants to. Names don't break any bones."
At that Mr. Payne and Mr. Day laughed louder than they had
before. But Janice knew that Gummy was not selfish, nor did he
think so much of money. He was delighted that he could help his
mother in her sore need.
"At any rate," said Mr. Payne, "the administrator of Mr. John
Gumswith's estate had his legal adviser communicate with
Cleveland lawyers; and they traced the Carringford family to
Napsburg. Then I was requested to find them, and--they have
found me!" and he
smiled.
"I congratulate you, madam. Of course, the courts will allow a
proper amount to be used by you for Gumswith's support."
"I guess not!" said Gummy. "I'm almost supporting myself--am I
not, Mother? The money's for you and the children."
"Oh, no, Gumswith, I--I cannot use your fortune," cried the
mother quickly.
"I have not yet finished," resumed the lawyer, with a queer
smile. "The boy has been left two thousand pounds for his name.
The father receives a thousand pounds, payable either to him, or,
if he be dead, to his widow. So you see there will be another
five thousand dollars coming to you, Mrs. Carringford."
At that, Mrs. Carringford for the first time lost control of
herself. She hugged Gummy and sobbed aloud.
"Pretty fine boy. Pretty fine boy," said Mr. Payne.
"He is that," agreed daddy, smiling across at Janice. "He put out
the fire our chimney, didn't he Janice?"
So this made them all laugh and they were all right again. There
was much to talk over before Mr. Payne went, besides the bad
fortune about the Mullen Lane property. And Mrs. Carringford and
the Days talked after Gummy had rushed out to drive back to
Harriman's store. The dinner was late that night in the Day
house.
Indeed, Janice forgot, in all the confusion and excitement, to
tell her father where she had been that afternoon, what she had
gone for, and how sadly she had been disappointed.
All this wonderful fortune for the Carringfords continued to
create so much excitement at the Day house, as well as in the
little cottage in Mullen Lane, that for several days Janice
scarcely thought about Olga Cedarstrom and the lost treasure-box.
For out of the good luck of the Carringfords, bad fortune for the
Days suddenly raised its head. Mrs. Carringford had a good deal
of extra work to do, anyway, for she had to go to the lawyer's
office and to the court, and interest herself in many things she
had known little about before. She was fighting to save her
home.
Indeed, Amy declared the Carringford family did not know "whether
it was on its head or its heels." Only Gummy. Nothing seemed to
disturb Gummy. And he would not give up his place with Mr.
Harriman.
"He keeps saying," Amy told Janice, laughing and sobbing
together, "that the ten thousand dollars is for the family. He
is going to keep on working until school begins, and even then
after school and on Saturdays. Really, Janice, he is darling
brother."
"I believe you," said Janice wistfully, for of late she had begun
to realize that a household of just two people was awfully small.
It became quite shocking when she suddenly understood that Mrs.
Carringford must give up looking after the Day household and
attend thereafter strictly to her own family. Of course, Mr. Day
had seen this from the first; but it came as a shock to his
little daughter.
"Oh, but Amy, and Gummy, and the little ones get everything!
They get their money and are going to own their home, and get
their mother all the time, too. It is fine for them, Daddy, but
we lose!"
"I am afraid we do," said her father, nodding soberly. "We shall
have to go back to the mercies of the intelligence office, or go
to boarding."
"No, no!" cried Janice to this last. "Not while vacation lasts,
at any rate. Why! I've learned a lot from Mrs. Carringford, and
we can get along."
"You are a dear little homemaker, Janice," he said. "When you get
a few more years on your shoulders I have no doubt that we shall
have as nice a home as we once had before dear mother went away.
But you cannot do everything. We cannot afford two in service--a
cook and a housemaid. We shall have to struggle along, 'catch as
catch can,' for some time I fear."
"But no boarding-house," declared Janice. "No giving up our own
dear home, Daddy."
"All right. I am going to get down tomorrow, crutches or no
crutches, and I will make the rounds of the agencies."
"Oh, dear!" she sighed. Then suddenly, for she was looking out
of the window: "Who do you suppose that is, Daddy, coming in at
the side gate? Why! It's a black woman--awfully black. And
she--"
Janice left off breathlessly and ran to the kitchen door. A
woman of more than middle age but, as said herself, "still mighty
spry," approached the porch.
Hers was not an unintelligent face. Her dark eye beamed upon
Janice most kindly. Her white, sound teeth gleamed behind a
triumphant smile. She carried a shabby bag, but she dropped that
and put out both hands as she came to the door.
"Ma bressed baby!" she cried in a voice that shook with emotion.
"Nobody's got to tell me who you is! You's your darlin' mamma's
livin' image! Ma sweet Miss Laura, back a little chile ag'in!"
The dark eyes were suddenly flooded and the tears ran down the
negro woman's plump cheeks. She was not wrinkled, and if her
tight, kinky hair was a mite gray, she did not have the
appearance of an old person in any way. Her voice was round, and
sweet, and tender.
"You don' know me, honey. You kyan't 'member Mammy Blanche. But
she done hol' you in her arms w'en you was a mite of a baby, jes'
as she held you dear mamma --my Miss Laura. Ah was her mammy,
an' she growed up right under ma eye. Don' you understun',
honey? The Avions was mah white folks.
"When Mistah Day come co'tin' an' merried yo' mamma, and kerrled
her off here to Greensboro, Ah come along, too. An' Ah nebber
would o' lef' you, only ma crippled brudder, Esek, an' his
crippled wife done need me to tak' care ob dem.
"But Esek's daid. An' here Ah is back, chile--Ma soul an' body!
ef dar ain' Mistah Brocky Day on crutches!"
"Blanche! Mammy Blanche!" exclaimed the man with real warmth, as
well as wonder, in his tone. "Is it really you?"
"It's mah own brack se'f!" cried the woman, as daddy came
hobbling forward to meet her just as though she were the finest
company that had ever come to the Day house.
"You couldn't be more welcome if you were a queen, Mammy
Blanche," he cried. "You know--?"
He halted, and his own countenance fell. The old woman clung
tightly to his hand with both of hers.
"Ah, yes; Ah got yo' letter long, long ago, Mistah Brocky. It
nigh broke my heart. Ma lil' Miss Laura! But, glory!" and she
turned suddenly to Janice, "here she is ober again!"
"I know it," said Broxton Day, wiping his eyes. "Come in and sit
down, Mammy. Janice does not remember you, I suppose. But I
remember well enough that we never had any housekeeping troubles
when Mammy Blanche was on hand."
"Sho' not! Sho' not," chuckled the old woman. "And Mammy Blanche
jest as spry now, an' able to do for you, as she used to be."
"What? Have you come to stay with us awhile, Mammy Blanche?"
asked Broxton Day. "Your brother?"
"Esek is daid. His wife's gone back to her own people. Ah ain't
got nobody, nor nohin' of mah own in dis here worl' Mistah
Brocky, onless dey is under dis here roof. I has come to stay,
sah, if you is of a min' to give mah ol' bones house room."
Janice had been breathless. But she had listened, and gradually
she had begun to understand. She could remember a good deal that
her dear mother had told her about Mammy Blanche. And this was
she!
The girl put her hand confidently into that of the black woman's.
She looked up at her father brightly.
"I take it all back, Daddy," she murmured. "I was ungrateful and
suspicious of fate, wasn't I? We don't lose."