CHAPTER VII. ARLO JUNIOR AGAIN

  Just as Janice was running in at the Love Street gate she washalted by Arlo Junior. Junior kept well out of the way at first,but his tone was confident well as ameliorating.

  "Aw, I say, Janice?' he begged, "you ain't mad at me, are you?"

  "Why shouldn't I be?" she demanded, her face flushing and thehazel eyes sparking in an indignant way.

  "Well, I mean-- Well, I hope you ain't," stammered Arlo Junior,unable entirely to smother a grin, and yet plainly anxious topacify Janice. "You see, Janice, my mother was coming up fromdowntown and she Saw you whacking me the other day."

  "Oh!"

  "Yes, she saw you," said Junior, nodding. "So I had to tell hersomething of what made you do it."

  "Indeed?" demanded Janice scornfully. "And what did you tellher?"

  "I told her about the cats. Anyway, I told her left your backkitchen door open and that the cats got in there and fought. Oh,Je-mi-ma, how they did fight! didn't they? I heard 'em after Igot back into the house that morning," and Junior began togiggle.

  "They didn't fight," said Janice shortly. "What you heard wasOlga pitching coal at 'em. And then she up and left us. We hadto get another girl. And this new girl won't clean up the messin the back kitchen. That's what you did Arlo Weeks and I've gotto clean up that room because of you."

  "Oh, Je-mi-ma!" gasped Junior, giggling no more now. "Is that howMiss Peckham's Sam-cat got hurt?"

  "What do you know about that?" demanded Janice quickly.

  "Miss Peckham's been all over the neighborhood talking about it.She found the cat with a broken leg. Got a veterinary. Put itin a plaster cast. Did you ever?"

  "Well!" murmured Janice.

  "I tell you what; don't let's say anything about it," beggedJunior eagerly. "I tell you what I'll do. I'll come overSaturday and help you clean up all the mess the cats and the girlmade. But don't say a word."

  "Well," said Janice again.

  "Now you promise, Janice," wheedled Junior. "If my mother learnsall about the cat business, there will be a big row. And all Idid--really--was to open that back kitchen door and then shut itagain after the cats got inside."

  "They would never have gone in if you hadn't thrown the catnip inthere," declared Janice warmly. "You know that very well,Junior."

  "Well, you won't say anything about it, will you, Janice, if Icome and clean up the kitchen?"

  "Well," said Janice for a third time, "let's see you do it. Iwon't promise until the kitchen is cleaned."

  But Arlo Junior went off with a grin on his face. He knew Janicewould not tell if he kept his share of the agreement.

  Janice was anxious to know how Delia, the new girl, was gettingon with the housework. There was a strong smell of scorchingvegetables the moment Janice opened the back door. The kitchenwas empty, but the pots on the stove foretold the fact thatdinner was in preparation at least two hours before it wasnecessary.

  And the vegetables! Janice ran to save them. There was aroaring fire under them; but it was the water that had boiledover, after all. Delia knew nothing, it was evident, aboutsimmering vegetables. Boiling them furiously was her way.

  "Oh, dear," sighed the girl, "I wonder if anything else canhappen to the Days! There must be something the matter with meor someone would sometime do something right in this house.Daddy's dinner will not be fit to eat.

  "That book on dietary that I got out of the library and tried toread said that good cooking was most important. I don't know,for I guess I didn't understand much of the book--not even ofthat part I read--but I do know that a well-cooked meal tastesbetter than a dried-out one. Oh, dear!"

  Janice shoved the pots back on the stove, and shut off the draftsso that the fire would die down. She

  wondered where Delia could be. She had not seen her outside thehouse. She ran up the back stairs and looked in the girl's roombefore she went to her own.

  Delia was not upstairs. Janice could not see that much had beendone in the way of housework--at least on the upper floor. Then,suddenly, she discovered where the new girl was.

  From the living room came the loud drumming of the player piano.The instrument had not been much in use since the death ofJanice's mother. Somehow it seemed to both Janice and daddy thatthey did not care to hear the piano that mother played sofrequently for them in the evening.

  But the instrument was in use now--no mistaking it. There aredifferent ways of playing a mechanical piano. Delia's way was toget all the noise out of it that was possible.

  Janice ran downstairs in some vexation. There was no particularcrime in the new girl's using the instrument, even without askingpermission. Yet when there was so much to do about the houseand, as she saw plainly, there had been so little done, Janicewas vexed enough to give Delia a good talking to.

  And then she hesitated with her hand on the knob of theliving-room door. If she got Delia angry the woman might leaveas abruptly as Olga Cedarstrom had left. It was a thoughtsuggesting tragedy. Janice waited to calm herself while the newgirl pumped away on the piano in a perfect anvil chorus.

  Janice opened the door. By the number of rolls spread out on thetop of the piano it was plain that Delia had played more musicthan she had done housework. The Garibaldi March came to a noisyconclusion."

  "Oh, my!" sighed Delia, in her squeaky voice, "ain't thatwonderful?"

  "I should say it was," Janice said quickly. "Wonderful, indeed!"

  "Oh!" shrieked Delia, flopping around on the bench and glaring atJanice, one hand clutching at her bosom. "You scare't me."

  "I think you ought to be scared. Your vegetables were boilingover, Delia."

  "Oh, you came in so sudden!" gasped the big woman. "I--I've gota weak heart. You oughtn't to scare me so. I can see mebbe thatSwede girl had a hard time here. There is more than cats is thematter. And that woman next door has been around to find out howher cat's leg come broke."

  If a fluffy little kitten, chasing a ball of yarn, had suddenlyturned around and attacked Janice, tooth and nail, the girl wouldhave been no more surprised.

  "Why, Delia, I am sorry if I frightened you," Janice said. "But,you know, this is not your part of the house; and having put onthe vegetables, even if it is too early, I should think you wouldremain in the kitchen and watch the pots."

  The giantess arose and wiped an eye. She sniveled into thecorner of her apron.

  "Well, I didn't expect to be bossed by a child," she squeaked,"when I came to work here. I don't like it."

  She flounced out of the room, leaving the piano open and therolls strewn about.

  "Oh, dear me! Now I have done it!" groaned Janice Day. "What willDaddy say if I have got Delia mad, and she goes? It is justawful!"

  It really did seem to be a tragic situation. Janice shook herhead and looked around the room. Everything was just as it hadbeen the night before when they went to bed, save the openedmusic cabinet and littered piano.

  There were daddy's cigar ashes in the tray; a cup with teagrounds in it as he had left it by his elbow. The smoking standwas not tidied nor the table. There was dust on everything, anda litter of torn papers on the rug.

  Why had Delia not cleaned up the room, if she had so much time toplay the piano?

  "I suppose if I ask her why she did not sweep and dust in hereshe will tell me that she forgot whether I said to use the bluedustcloth or the pink," groaned Janice.

  One girl they had had actually gave that excuse as

  logical when the work was neglected. There was nothing laughablein this situation--nothing at all!

  "Oh, if I could only do something myself," murmured the younggirl.

  After what had occurred she thought it best to say nothing moreto Delia at the time. She hated to bother daddy again; but shewondered what he would do if he had to confront suchcircumstances at the bank.

  "Of course, men's work is awfully important," Janice sighed; "butwhat would daddy do if confronted by these little annoying t
hingsthat seem to be connected with the housework?"

  There were a dozen things Janice would have preferred to do rightnow. But she could not have daddy come home and see such alooking living-room. She put on apron and cap and went to workimmediately to do what Delia should have done earlier in the day.

  In an hour or so the room was swept, dusted, and well aired. Shehad returned the music rolls to the cabinet and closed the piano.She wished there was a key to it so that Delia could not get atit again, for if the new girl was musically inclined Janiceforesaw little housework done while she was at school and daddywas at work.

  Then Janice ventured into the kitchen. Delia was not there. Thevegetables were already cooked and were in the warmer where theywould gradually become dried out. Janice had done the marketingon her way to school that morning, and had sent home a steak.The steak was already cooked and was on a platter, likewise inthe warming oven. And it was yet an hour to dinner time.

  Janice opened the door to the stairway. There was no sound fromthat part of the house. She went to the back door then, andthere was Delia talking earnestly with Miss Peckham over theboundary fence.

  The fact smote Janice like a physical blow. She remembered whatArlo Junior had said about the cat. Miss Peckham had found thepoor creature and had sent for the veterinary doctor to treathim.

  What Janice had already admitted regarding the cat, and whatDelia might tell Miss Peckham, would breed trouble just as sureas the world! What should she do?

  She might have been unwise enough to have run out and interferedin the back-fence conference. But just then she heard daddy'skey in the front door and she ran to meet him.

  "Oh, Daddy! Did you find out anything more about Olga and whereshe went?" the young girl cried as soon as she saw Broxton Day.

  "I guess I have found nothing of importance," said her father,shaking his head gravely.

  "Oh, my dear! Nothing?"

  "Nothing that explains where the treasure-box went to, Janice,"he said. "Nor much that explains any other part of the mystery."

  "But the telephone number? Who did she call up?"

  "Yes, I found out about that," he admitted, hanging up his coatand hat. "She called the public booths in the railroad station.There was somebody waiting there to answer her. And who do yousuppose it was?"

  "I couldn't guess, Daddy."

  "Willie Sangreen. He is the young man who is checker at thepickle works, and who I told you was Olga's steady company. Hehas gone away, and nobody seems to know where."

  "They have gone away together!" cried Janice, in despair.

  "She knew where he was going to be at that hour, sure enough; shewould probably have called him at the telephone in the railroadstation, anyway. And the catastrophe," he smiled a little, "andOlga's getting so angry, may have changed their plans completely.Maybe he did meet her somewhere."

  "Oh, Daddy! what kind of a looking man is Willie Sangreen?" criedJanice.

  "I really could not tell you."

  "But maybe it was he who drove the taxicab?" suggested the girl.

  "That might be worth looking up," said her father. "And yet, itdoes not explain," he added, as they went into the living-room,"why Olga should have stolen the treasure-box. That seems to bethe greatest mystery."

 
Helen Beecher Long's Novels