Part 9 (1/2)

Janice picked up Trimmins on the road to town. The lanky Southerner, who lived as a squatter with his ever-increasing family back in the woods, was a soft-spoken man with much innate politeness and a great distaste for regular work. He said the elder had just offered him a job in the woods that he was going to take if he could get a man to help him.

”I heard you talking about it, Mr. Trimmins,” the young girl said, with her eyes on the road ahead and her foot on the gas pedal. ”I hope you will make a good thing out of it.”

”Not likely. The elder's too close for that,” responded the man, with a twinkle in his eye.

”Yes. I suppose that Elder Concannon considers a small profit sufficient. He got his money that way--by 'littles and dribbles'--and I fancy he thinks small pay is all right.”

”My glo-_ree_! You bet he does!” said Trimmins. ”But the elder never had but one--leastways, two--chillen to raise. He wouldn't ha' got rich very fast with _my_ family--no, sir!”

”Perhaps that is so,” Janice admitted.

”Tell ye what, Miss,” the woodsman went on to say, ”a man ought to git paid accordin' to the mouths there is to home to feed. I was readin'

in a paper t'other day that it took ten dollars a week to take proper care of a man and his wife, and there ought to be added to them ten dollars two dollars a week ev'ry time they got a baby.”

”Why! wouldn't that be fine?” cried Janice, laughing.

”It sure would be a help,” said Trimmins, the twinkle in his eye again.

”I reckon both me an' Narnay would 'preciate it.”

”Oh! you mean Jim Narnay?” asked Janice, with sudden solemnity.

”Yes ma'am. I'm goin' to see him now. He's a grand feller with the axe and I want him to help me.”

Janice wondered how much work would really be done by the two men if they were up in the woods together. Yet Mrs. Narnay and the children might get along better without Jim. Janice had made some inquiries and learned that Mrs. Narnay was an industrious woman, working steadily over her washtub, and keeping the children in comparative comfort when Jim was not at home to drink up a good share of her earnings.

”Are you going down to the cove to see Narnay now, Mr. Trimmins?”

Janice asked, as she turned the automobile into the head of High Street.

”Yes, ma'am. That is, if I don't find him at Lem Parraday's.”

”Oh, Mr. Trimmins!” exclaimed Janice, earnestly. ”Look for him at the house first. And don't you go near Lem Parraday's, either.”

”Wal!” drawled the man. ”I s'pose you air right, Miss.”

”I'll drive you right down to the cove,” Janice said. ”I want to see little Sophie, and--and her mother.”

”Whatever you say, Miss,” agreed the woodsman.

They followed a rather rough street coveward, but arrived safely at the small collection of cottages, in one of which the Narnays lived. Jim Narnay was evidently without money, for he sat on the front stoop, sober and rather neater than Janice was used to seeing him. He was whittling a toy of some kind for the little boys, both of whom were hanging upon him.

Their att.i.tude, as well as what Sophie Narnay had told her, a.s.sured Janice that the husband and father of the household was not a cruel man when he was sober. The children still loved him, and he evidently loved them.

”Got a job, Jim?” asked Trimmins, after thanking Janice for the ride, and getting out of the automobile.

”Not a smitch of work since I come out of the woods,” admitted the bewhiskered man, rising quickly from the stoop to make way for Janice.

”Come on, old feller,” said Trimmins. ”I want to talk to you. If you are favorable inclined, I reckon I got jest the job you've been lookin'

for.”

The two went off behind the cottage. Janice did not know then that there was a short cut to High Street and the Lake View Inn.