Part 13 (1/2)
”I expect you feel pretty bad, Janice Day,” went on Mrs. Scattergood.
”But it's allus the way. You'll find as you grow older that there ain't much in this world for females, young or old, but trouble.”
”Why, Mrs. Scattergood!” cried the girl, and this time she did call up a merry look. ”What have you to trouble you? You have the nicest time of any person I know--unless it is Mrs. Marvin Petrie. No family to trouble you; enough to live on comfortably; nothing to do but go visiting--or stay at home if you'd rather----”
”Tut, tut, tut, child! All is not gold that glitters,” was the quick reply. ”I ain't so happy as ye may think. I have my troubles. But, thanks be! they ain't abeout men. But you've begun yours, I kin see.”
”Yes, I am troubled because Mr. Haley is falsely accused,” admitted Janice, stoutly.
”Wal--yes. I expect you air. And if it ain't no worse than you believe--Wal! I said you was a new-fas.h.i.+oned gal when I fust set eyes on you that day comin' up from the Landing in the old _Constance Colfax_; and you be.”
”How am I different from other girls?” asked Janice, curiously.
”Wal! Most gals would wait till they was sure the young man wasn't goin' to be arrested before they ran right off to see him. But mebbe it's because you ain't got your own mother and father to tell ye diff'rent.”
Janice flushed deeply at this and her eyes sparkled.
”I am sure Aunt 'Mira and Uncle Jason would have told me not to call on Nelson if they did not believe just as I do--that he is guiltless and that all his friends should show him at once that they believe in him.”
”Hoity-toity! Mebbe so,” said the woman, tartly. ”Them Days never did have right good sense--yer uncle an' aunt, I mean. When _I_ was a gal we wouldn't have been allowed to have so much freedom where the young fellers was consarned.”
Janice was quite used to Mrs. Scattergood's sharp tongue; but it was hard to bear her strictures on this occasion.
”I hope it is not wrong for me to show my friend that I trust and believe in him,” she said firmly, and nodding good-bye, turned abruptly away.
Of herself, or of what the neighbors thought of her conduct, Janice Day thought but little. She went on to Mrs. Beaseley's cottage, solely anxious on Nelson's account.
She found the widow in tears, for selfishly immured as Mrs. Beaseley was in her ten-year-old grief over the loss of her ”sainted Charles,”
she was a dear, soft-hearted woman and had come to look upon Nelson Haley almost as her son.
”Oh, Janice Day! what ever are we going to do for him?” was her greeting, the moment the girl entered the kitchen. ”If my poor, dear Charles were alive I know he would be furiously angry with Mr. Cross Moore and those other men. Oh! I cannot bear to think of how angry he would be, for Charles had a very stern temper.
”And Mr. Haley is such a pleasant young man. As I tell 'em all, a nicer and quieter person never lived in any lone female's house. And to think of their saying such dreadful things about him! I am sure _I_ never thought of locking anything away from Mr. Haley in this house--and there's the 'leven sterling silver teaspoons that belonged to poor, dear Charles' mother, and the gold-lined sugar-basin that was my Aunt Abby's, and the sugar tongs--although they're bent some.
”Why! Mr. Haley is jest one of the nicest young gentlemen that ever was. And here he comes home, pale as death, and won't eat no dinner.
Janice, think of it! I allus have said, and I stick to it, that if one can eat they'll be all right. My sainted Charles,” she added, stating for the thousandth time an uncontrovertible fact, ”would be alive to this day if he had continued to eat his victuals!”
”I'd like to speak to Mr. Haley,” Janice said, finally ”getting a word in edgewise.”
”Of course. Maybe he'll let you in,” said the widow. ”He won't me, but I think he favors you, Janice,” she added innocently, shaking her head with a continued mournful air. ”He come right in and said: 'Mother Beaseley, I don't believe I can eat any dinner to-day,' and then shut and locked his door. I didn't know what had happened till 'Rene Hopper, she that works for Mrs. Cross Moore, run in to borry my heavy flat-iron, an' she tol' me about the stolen money. Ain't it _awful_?”
”I--I hope Nelson will let me speak to him, Mrs. Beaseley,” stammered Janice, finding it very difficult now to keep her tears back.
”You go right along the hall and knock at his door,” whispered Mrs.
Beaseley, hoa.r.s.ely. ”An' you tell him I've got his dinner down on the stove-hearth, 'twixt plates, a-keepin' it hot for him.”
Janice did as she was bidden as far as knocking at the door of the front room was concerned. There was no answer at first--not a sound from within. She rapped a second time.