Part 16 (1/2)

”Huh! I wonder?” questioned Marty. ”Guess Nelse Haley won't lay _his_ trouble to liquor drinking.”

”No? I wonder----”

”Here's the library building, Janice,” interrupted the boy. ”Want me to go any further with you?”

”No, dear,” she said, taking the bag from him. ”Tell Aunt 'Mira I'll be home in the morning in time enough to dress for church.”

”Aw-right.”

”And, Marty!”

”Yep?” returned he, turning back.

”I see there's a light in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the library building. What's going on?”

”We fellers are holding a meeting,” said Marty, importantly. ”I called it this afternoon. I don't mind telling you, Janice, that we're going to pa.s.s resolutions backing up Mr. Haley--pa.s.s him a vote of confidence. That's what they do in lodges and other societies. And if any of the fellers renege tonight on this, I'll--I'll--Well, I'll show 'em somethin'!” finished Marty, very red in the face and threatening as he dived down the bas.e.m.e.nt steps.

”Oh, well,” thought Janice, encouraged after all. ”Nelson has some loyal friends.”

She came to the store on the side street without further incident. She looked across timidly at Nelson's windows. A lamp burned dimly there, so she knew he was at home.

Indeed, where would he go--to whom turn in his trouble? Aside from an old maiden aunt who had lent him enough of her savings to enable him to finish his college course, Nelson had no relatives alive. He had no close friend, either young or old, but herself, Janice knew.

”Oh, if daddy were only home from Mexico!” was her unspoken thought, as she lifted the latch of the store door.

There were no customers at this hour; but it was Hopewell Drugg's custom to keep the store open until nine o'clock every evening, and Sat.u.r.day night until a much later hour. Every neighborhood store must do this to keep trade.

”I'm so glad to see you, Janice,” 'Rill proclaimed, without coming from behind the counter. ”You'll stay?”

”Surely. Don't you see my bag?” returned Janice gaily. ”Is Mr. Drugg going to be away all night?”

”He--he could not be sure. It's another dance,” 'Rill said, rather apologetically. ”He feels he must play when he can. Every five dollars counts, you know, and Hopewell is sure that Lottie will have to go back to the school.”

”Where is the dance?” asked Janice gravely. ”Down at the Inn?”

”Yes,” replied the wife, quite as seriously, and dropping her gaze.

”Oh! I hear my Janice! I hear my Janice Day!” cried Lottie's sweet, shrill voice from the rear apartment and she came running out into the store to meet the visitor.

”Have a care! have a care, dear!” warned 'Rill. ”Look where you run.”

Janice, seeing more clearly from where she stood in front of the counter, was aware that the child ran toward her with her hands outstretched, and with her eyes tightly closed--just as she used to do before her eyes were treated and she had been to the famous Boston physician.

”Oh, Lottie dear!” she exclaimed, taking the little one into her arms.

”You will run into something. You will hurt yourself. Why don't you look where you are going?”

”I _do_ look,” Lottie responded pouting. Then she wriggled all her ten fingers before Janice's face. ”Don't you see my lookers? I can see--oh! so nicely!--with my fingers. You know I always could, Janice Day.”

'Rill shook her head and sighed. It was plain the bride was a very lenient stepmother indeed--perhaps too lenient. She loved Hopewell Drugg's child so dearly that she could not bear to correct her. Lottie had always had her own way with her father; and matters had not changed, Janice could see.