Janice Day, the Young Homemaker

  CHAPTER XX. STELLA KEEPS ONE SECRET

  It was on this evening, too, that Daddy told Janice he had made apoint of seeing and talking with Johnson, Mr. Latham's tenant.The man had a small account in the Farmers and Merchants Bank,for, like most of his nation, "Yon Yonson," as his wife hadcalled him, was a frugal man.

  "He came into the bank and I inquired about the girl who visitedhis wife and who broke Mrs. Latham's cutglass dish," said Mr.Day. "Johnson says he knows little about the girl--not evenwhere she lives, or really who she is. Only he told me her lastname was not Cedarstrom."

  "So that, I fear," added Mr. Day, shaking his head, "is anotherlost trail. It does seem that the mystery of the disappearanceof our treasure-box, Janice, is likely to remain a mystery.

  "At least, that girl at the Latham's was another girl than ourOlga. Johnson says she was only visiting his wife for a day ortwo. She was a friend of has wife's. I think they believe Lathamwants to find the girl to make her pay for that broken dish, sothey are less willing to talk about her than might otherwise bethe case."

  "Just the same," sighed Janice, "I do wish Gummy had known justhow our Olga looked."

  "How is that?"

  "Then he would have known for sure whether it was Olga Cedarstromor not. Just his seeing that her hair was strained back from herface doesn't prove anything."

  "I should say it did not," laughed her father. "That manner ofwearing the hair seems to be a common failing with these Swedishwomen. Besides, didn't I tell you that Johnson says that girl isnot named 'Cedarstrom?'"

  "We-ell, it is awfully funny, Daddy. It doesn't seem as though agirl could disappear so completely--wiped right off the map--"

  "Vigorously expressed, I admit," her father interrupted. "But wemust not begin to doubt everybody's word about it. I guessJohnson is honest."

  "And those other people who knew her in Pickletown?"

  "They simply don't know what has become of her. Or of WillieSangreen, either," Daddy admitted. "That does seem strange. Ofcourse the two have gone off somewhere to be married and have nottold their friends."

  "It proves that Olga did take dear mother's miniature --and--andthose letters," said Janice excitedly. "Or she would not hideherself."

  "Yes. I thought we had already agreed on that," her father said.

  It was evident that he did not wish uselessly to discuss thematter of the lost keepsakes. Janice, young as she was, realizedthat her father was growing more grave and more serious everyday. She did not believe that this change was altogether due tobusiness anxieties, or even to their household vexations.

  At night, after she was supposed to be in bed and sound asleep,the girl heard him walking back and forth the length of theliving room; or, sometimes, now that the weather was so mild, hetramped up and down the front porch until very, very late.

  There was surely some trouble on his mind that he did not care toconfide to his little daughter. Broxton Day sighed more oftenthan had been his wont even during those hard, hard daysimmediately following the death of Janice's mother. His heartylaugh was not so spontaneous nor heard as often as before.

  Janice could not speak about this change in her father. Shebelieved she knew why he was so grave and why some of his nightswere sleepless.

  Broxton Day had loved his wife with a passionate devotion. Hemust miss her presence more and more as the days went on. Inspite of all the companionship Janice could give him, the man'sexistence was a lonely one.

  "And, too, her heart told her that she had been the unwittingcause of this new burden which had come upon daddy's mind. Thoseletters which Janice had never seen--the presence of which shehad not even suspected in the secret compartment of the losttreasure-box--had been Broxton Day's most precious possession.Janice had lost them! Her carelessness had given the angry Olgathe opportunity to take the box away with her.

  The letters had been written at a time when Janice's father andmother were very close together in spirit, if not in actualcontact. Even Janice could understand that Laura Day must haverevealed her very soul to her husband in those epistles.

  Oh, if she could only bring them back!

  So sorrow began to be entertained in the Day house on KnightStreet, as a continual guest. It did seem, too, that Janicecould do very little to relieve her father of any of theembarrassments of their situation. She

  worked as hard as she could before she went to school and aftershe came home, but she could not begin to do all that was neededto be done. And she was so tired sometimes after supper that shefell asleep over her homework.

  Their meals became, too, a mere round of bacon-and-egg breakfastsand delicatessen suppers. Shop-cooked meats and potato saladswere on the bill of fare too often to tempt the appetite ofeither Mr. Day or his daughter, and the latter began to depend agood deal upon "baker's stuff" for her lunch.

  With the unfortunate experiences they had had with help, however,Janice did not wonder that daddy found nobody to suit him at theagencies. Olga, Delia, Mrs. Watkins--and all those who had comeand gone before --were enough to fill the mind of any person withdespair.

  Janice did not forget to tell Mrs. Carringford what Mr. Day hadsaid regarding her trouble, and that on the very next day.

  "He'll be sure to see some way out for you, Mrs. Carringford,"the girl assured her friend's mother, with much confidence."Daddy is always doing things for folks. He doesn't just advise;he is sure to do something."

  "Yes, I should not be surprised if Mr. Broxton Day was ado-something man," said Mrs. Carringford, smiling. "He must bewhen he has such a do-something daughter."

  "And you really will come up to see him this evening?" urgedJanice, blushing rosily at what she considered a compliment.

  "I--I--well, my dear, I could not accept any financialfavor from your father. I would not have a right to doso. The Carringfords must be independent."

  "But, Mrs Carringford, you mustn't feel that way! I have no ideaDaddy could give you much money, even if you, would let him.But, you see, he knows so much more about such things asmortgages, and loans, and real estate, that he can give you goodadvice. And he says that Mr. Abel Strout's middle name is'Mean'!"

  Mrs. Carringford laughingly agreed to that, and in the eveningshe came to the house with Gummy, Amy being left at home to takecare of the little ones.

  Mr. Day had already met and quite approved of Mrs. Carringford'stwo older children, Gummy and Amy, for he had seen them both atthe house. But he had had no idea, in spite of Janice'senthusiastic praise, that Mrs, Carringford was quite the womanshe was.

  He saw now a very gentle, pretty woman whose soft, wavy hair wasbecoming prematurely gray, with an intelligent countenance andeyes that fixed one's attention almost immediately. Here, Mr.Day saw, was a capable, energetic spirit--a woman who would carrythrough whatever she undertook could it be carried through atall, yet who was not objectionably self-assertive-likeMiss Peckham, for instance.

  If Mrs. Carringford had made a mistake in her purchase of theproperty in Mullen Lane, it was because she had been badlyadvised, if not actually cheated, by the sly old fellow who hadfor years owned the property which he had taken for a bad debt.

  Abel Strout had doubtless been glad to get rid of the Mullen Laneplace, and for the first payment made upon it by Mrs.Carringford. But he had been foxy enough to make a hard and fastbargain with the widow. He had her tied up in a contract that,if she failed to meet her obligations in a small way, even, wouldenable him to walk in and take the place away from her.

  And he had done more than that. For some reason best known tohimself he had first transferred the property to one JohnJamison--a farm hand of that section-- and had then had thisJamison transfer the property to Mrs. Carringford, he paying thedifference represented by the mortgage he held.

  "He said Jamison had grown tired of his bargain a week after hebought it," Mrs. Carringford explained. "He wanted Mr. Strout totake it back. Strout said by making the transfer he would beaiding both Mr. Jamison and me
."

  And now a change was coming. Since the transfer Mullen Laneproperty had begun to look up. A factory was going to be builtin the vicinity, and that part of Greensboro was likely to offera better field for real estate operations.

  Broxton Day knew all this, which Mrs. Carringford did not. Hesaw that what Strout wanted was to get the property back into hisown hands again. He would refuse to renew the mortgage andfrighten Mrs. Carringford into giving up her home.

  The way the matter figured out, the expense of paying interestand taxes on the Mullen Lane property was no greater than rentalwould be elsewhere for the Carringford family. In the end, ifthe widow held on, the place might really be more valuable thanit now was, and would sell for considerably more than she hadagreed to pay Abel Strout for it.

  "I tell you what you do," Broxton Day finally said, havingthought the matter over. "Strout has told you he will accept asmall payment on the mortgage, and will then renew the balancefor another year."

  "Yes. But ought I to spend any more of the little sum I haveleft in that way, when my children may need it for food?" askedthe anxious widow.

  "You show me by these papers that you are fixed fairly well foranother year. You and your son will both earn something, ofcourse, during the next twelve months. So if I were you, I wouldthrow a sprat to catch a herring, and he smiled.

  "You mean?" the widow asked doubtfully.

  "I mean for you to offer him fifty dollars against the principalof the mortgage. No matter of whom you would get money, youwould have to pay the same interest you pay Strout now and nomatter whom I might get money from for you, so that you could payoff Strout and get rid of him, there would be the additionalexpense of making the new mortgage, and all that."

  "But is he to be trusted?"

  "Not at all. At the end of the year he will want more money, ifhe thinks you will have difficulty in getting it and there is achance of your having to give up your home."

  "Oh!"

  "But a year from now I prophesy," said Mr. Day, "that your littlehouse will be worth much more than it is to-day. At least itwill be worth no less. It will be easier a year from now toraise another mortgage than it is right now. Just toll Stroutalong a little," and he laughed.

  "Do you think I can do this, Mr. Day?" asked Mrs. Carringforddoubtfully.

  "You can to it for your children's sake, I have no doubt. Andremember, in any case, if Strout demands the entire mortgage paidat once, within three days I will try to obtain for you a newmortgagee. You shall not lose your home, or what money you havealready put into it, if I can help it."

  "Oh, Mr. Day! exclaimed the woman, warmly. "If I can go homewith this confident feeling--"

  "You may. Of course, you are in debt. It is going to be a hardstruggle for you to get along. But your children are growing upand in time will be able to shoulder a part of the burden whichyou have assumed for their sake. Take courage, Mrs. Carringford.Everything will turn out right in the end, I am sure."

  It was plain that Mrs. Carringford was greatly comforted. Whenshe left, Janice whispered to her father: "I'm awfully proud ofyou, Daddy. You do have such a way with you!"

  But helping other people out of their troubles was not helpingthe Days out of their particular Slough of Despond. So manydifficulties seemed reaching out to clutch at Janice and Daddy!The girl thought it was like walking through a briar-patch.Every step they took, trouble retarded them.

  First and foremost the disappearance of that strange OlgaCedarstrom, and the loss of the box of heirlooms, was continuallyin Janice's mind. The girls at school knew about it, althoughonly Amy knew just how serious the loss was to the Days.

  The puzzle regarding the girl named Olga who had helped in theLatham's kitchen the night of Stella's birthday party, had beennoised abroad among Janice's school friends, and more or lesscomment was made upon it.

  "Say, Janice, did you ever find out what became of that Swede whobroke Mrs. Latham's dish the night we were all there?" asked oneof the girls one day. "Didn't you say she might be the very girlwho ran away from your house?"

  "Yes! I did think so. But it was not the same. Her friendssaid this girl was not named Cedarstrom."

  "Well, who'd want such a name, anyway?" laughed another of theparty.

  Stella was herself one of those present; but at this time she wasnot speaking to Janice. She laughed maliciously when Janice Dayhad gone.

  "What's the matter with you, Stella?" asked Bertha Warring."Your 'ha, ha' is like that of the villain in the melodrama.What is the matter?"

  "Oh, never mind," returned Stella, apparently very much enjoyingher own secret thoughts.

  "Tell us, Stella; then we'll all laugh," urged another.

  "Oh, no. You girls say I can't keep a secret. But I'll

  show you--and that Janice Day--that I can. I know somethingabout the Olga-girl that she'd like to know; but Janice shallnever learn it from me," and Stella laughed again maliciously.