Part 35 (2/2)

And daddy was utterly buried from her! She had no means of informing herself whether he were alive or dead. She wrote to him faithfully at least once each week; but she did not know whether the letters reached him or not.

As previously advised, she addressed the outer envelope for her father's letters in care of Juan Dicampa. But that seemed a hollow mockery now. She was sending the letters to a dead man.

Was it possible that her father received the missives? Could Juan Dicampa's influence, now that he was dead, compa.s.s their safety? It seemed rather a ridiculous thing to do, yet Janice continued to send them in care of the guerrilla chieftain.

Indeed, Janice Day was wading in deep waters. It was very difficult for her to carry a cheerful face about during this time of severe trial.

But she threw herself, whole-heartedly, into the temperance campaign, and strove to keep her mind from dwelling upon her father's peril.

CHAPTER XXIII

JOSEPHUS COMES OUT FOR PROHIBITION

It was while Janice was staying with Mrs. Hopewell Drugg during the storekeeper's absence in Boston, that she met Sophie Narnay on the street.

The child looked somewhat better as to dress, for Janice had found her some frocks weeks before, and Mrs. Narnay had utilized the gifts to the very best advantage. But the poor little thing was quite as hungry looking as ever.

”Oh, Miss Janice!” she said, ”I wish you'd come down to see our baby.

She's ever so much worse'n she was. I guess 'twas a good thing 'at we never named her. 'Twould jest ha' been a name wasted.”

”Oh, dear, Sophie! is she as bad as all that?” cried Janice.

”Yep,” declared the child.

”Can't the doctor help her?”

”He's come a lot--an' he's been awful nice. Mom says she didn't know there was such good folks in the whole worl' as him an' you. But there's somethin' the matter with the baby that no doctor kin help, so he says. An' I guess he's got the rights of it,” concluded Sophie, in her old-fas.h.i.+oned way.

”I will certainly come down and see the poor little thing,” promised Janice. ”And your mamma and Johnnie and Eddie. Is your father at home now?”

”Nop. He's up in Concannon's woods yet. They've took a new contrac'--him and Mr. Trimmins. An' mebbe it'll last all Summer. Dear me! I hope so. Then pop won't be home to drink up all the money mom earns.”

”I will come down to-morrow,” Janice promised, for she was busy just then and could not accompany Sophie to Pine Cove.

This was Sat.u.r.day afternoon and Janice was on her way to the steamboat dock to see if certain freight had arrived by the _Constance Colfax_ for Hopewell Drugg's store. She was doing all she could to help 'Rill conduct the business while the storekeeper was away.

During the week she had scarcely been home to the Day house at all.

Marty had run the car over to the Drugg place in the morning in time for her to start for Middletown; and in the afternoon her cousin had come for the Kremlin and driven it across town to the garage again.

This Sat.u.r.day she would not use the car, for she wished to help 'Rill, and Marty had taken a party of his boy friends out in the Kremlin.

Marty had become a very efficient chauffeur now and could be trusted, so his father said, not to try to hurdle the stone walls along the way, or to make the automobile climb the telegraph poles.

”Marm” Parraday was sweeping the front porch and steps of the Lake View Inn. Although the Inn had become very well patronized now, the tavernkeeper's vigorous wife was not above doing much of her own work.

”Oh, Janice Day! how be ye?” she called to the girl. ”I don't see ye often,” and Mrs. Parraday smiled broadly upon her.

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