Part 44 (1/2)
”I could not buy it at the price he gave me for it,” said Hopewell, sadly shaking his head. ”No use to think of it.”
But Janice thought of it--and thought of it often. If daddy were only--only _successful_ again! That is the way she put it in her mind.
If he could only send her some more money! There was many a thing Janice Day needed, or wanted. But she thought that she would deny herself much for the sake of recovering the violin for Hopewell Drugg.
Meanwhile nothing further had come to light regarding the missing collection of gold coins. No third coin had been put into circulation--in Polktown, at least. The four school committeemen who were responsible for the collection had long since paid the owner out of their own pockets rather than be put to further expense in law.
Jim Narnay's baby was growing weaker and weaker. The little thing had been upon the verge of pa.s.sing on so many times, that her parents had grown skeptical of the doctor's prophecy--that she could not live out the Summer.
It seemed to Janice, however, that the little body was frailer, the little face wanner, the tiny smile more pitiful, each time she went to Pine Cove to see the baby. Nelson, who had come back to town and again taken up his abode with the overjoyed Mrs. Beaseley while he prepared for the opening of the school, urged Janice not to go so often to the Narnay cottage.
”You've enough on your heart and mind, dear girl,” he said to her.
”Why burden yourself with other people's troubles?”
”Why--do you know, Nelson,” she told him, thoughtfully, ”that is one of the things I have learned of late.”
”What is one of the things you have learned?”
”I have been learning, Nelson, that the more we share other people's burdens the less weight our own a.s.sume. It's wonderful! When I am thinking of the poor little Narnay baby, I am not thinking of daddy away down there in Mexico. And when I am worrying about little Lottie Drugg--or even about Hopewell's lost violin--I am not thinking about those awful gold coins and _who_ could have taken them----”
”Here! here, young woman!” exclaimed the schoolmaster, stopping short, and shaking his head at her. ”_That's_ certainly not your personal trouble.”
”Oh, but, Nelson,” she said shyly. ”Whatever troubles _you_ must trouble _me_ quite as though it were my really, truly own!”
What Nelson might have said, right there on Hillside Avenue, too--even what he might have _done_!--will never be known; for here Marty suddenly appeared running wildly and shrieking at the top of his lungs for them to stop.
”Hi! hi! what's the matter wi' you folks?” he yelled, his face red, and his breath fairly gasping in his throat. ”I been yellin' after ye all down High Street. Look what I found!”
”Looks like a newspaper, Marty,” said Nelson, calmly.
”_But what is in it?_” cried Janice, turning pale.
Nelson seized the paper and held it open. He read rapidly:
”'Great battle fought southwest of Chihuahua. Federal forces thoroughly whipped. Rebels led by the redoubtable General Juan Dicampa, whose reported death last Spring was only a ruse to blind the eyes of the Federals to his movements. At the head of a large force of regular troops and Yaqui Indians, Dicampa fell upon the headquarters of General Cesta, capturing or killing his entire command, and becoming possessed of quant.i.ties of munition and a great store of supplies. A telling blow that may bring about the secure establishment of a _de facto_ government in our ensanguined sister Republic.”
”Goodness me, Janice! what do you think of that? There is a lot more of it, too.”
”Then--if Juan Dicampa is not dead----” began the girl.
”Sure, Uncle Brocky ain't dead!” finished Marty.
”At least, dear girl,” said Nelson, sympathetically, ”there is every reason to believe that what Marty says is true.”
”Oh, I can hope! I can hope again!” she murmured. ”And, perhaps--who knows, Nelson?--perhaps my own great trouble is going to melt away and be no more, just like last Winter's snow! Perhaps daddy is safe, and will come home.”
”I wish my difficulties promised as quick a solution, Janice,” said Nelson, shaking his head. ”But I am glad for you, my dear.”
Marty ran ahead with the paper to spread the good news of Uncle Brocky's probable safety. Janice and Nelson were not destined to be left to their own devices for long, however. As they slowly mounted the pleasant and shady street there was the rattle of wheels behind them, and a masterful voice said:
”Whoa! That you, Schoolmaster? How-do, Janice.”