CHAPTER XI
"MEN MUST WORK WHILE WOMEN MUST WEEP"
Janice brought the letter indoors to read by the light of the kitchen lamp. Her heart fluttered, for she feared that it was something about Nelson. The Drugg domicile was almost across the street from the Beaseley cottage and the girl did not know but that 'Rill had been delegated to tell her something of moment about the young schoolmaster.
Marty, too, was eagerly curious. "Hey, Janice! what's the matter?" he whispered, at her shoulder.
"Mr. Drugg has to be away this evening and she is afraid to stay in the house and store alone. She wants me to come over and spend the night with her. May I, Auntie?"
"Of course, child—go if you like," Aunt 'Mira said briskly. "You've been before."
Twice Mr. Drugg had been away buying goods and Janice had spent the night with 'Rill and little Lottie.
"Though what protection I could be to them if a burglar broke in, I'm sure I don't know," Janice had said, laughingly, on a former occasion.
She went upstairs to pack her handbag rather gravely. She was glad to go to the Drugg place to remain through the night. She would be near Nelson Haley! Somehow, she felt that being across the street from the schoolmaster would be a comfort.
When she came downstairs Marty had his hat and coat on. "I'll go across town with ye—and carry the bag," he proposed. "Going to the reading room, anyway."
"That's nice of you, Marty," she said, trying to speak in her usual cheery manner.
Janice was rather glad it was a moonless evening as she walked side by side with her cousin down Hillside Avenue. It was one of the first warm evenings of the Spring and the neighbors were on their porches, or gossiping at the gates and boundary fences.
What about? Ah! too well did Janice Day know the general subject of conversation this night in Polktown.
"Come on, Janice," grumbled Marty. "Don't let any of those old cats stop you. They've all got their claws sharpened up."
"Hush, Marty!" she begged, yet feeling a warm thrill at her heart because of the boy's loyalty.
"There's that old Benny Thread!" exploded Marty, as they came out on the High Street. "Oh! he's as important now as a Billy-goat on an ash-heap. You'd think, to hear him, that he'd stole the coins himself—only he didn't have no chance't. He and Jack Besmith wouldn't ha' done a thing to that bunch of money—no, indeed!—if they'd got hold of it."
"Why, Marty!" put in Janice; "you shouldn't say that." Then, with sudden curiosity, she added: "What has that drug clerk got to do with the janitor of the school building?"
"He's Benny's brother-in-law. But Jack's left town, I hear."
"He's gone with Trimmins and Narnay into the woods," Janice said thoughtfully.
"So he's out of it," grumbled Marty. "Jack went up to Massey's the other night to try to get his old job back, and Massey turned him out of the store. Told him his breath smothered the smell of iodoform in the back shop," and Marty giggled. "That's how Jack come to get a pint and wander up into our sheep fold to sleep it off."
"Oh, dear, Marty," sighed Janice, "this drinking in Polktown is getting to be a dreadful thing. See how Walky Dexter was to-night."
"Yep."
"Everything that's gone wrong lately is the fault of Lem Parraday's bar."
"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 basement 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 pass resolutions backing up Mr. Haley—pass 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 basement 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 Saturday 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.
"Mamma 'Rill," Lottie coaxed, patting her step-mother's pink cheek, "you'll let me sit up longer, 'cause Janice is here—won't you?"
Of course 'Rill could not refuse her. So the child sat there, blinking at the store lights like a little owl, until finally she sank down in the old cushioned armchair behind the stove and fell fast asleep. Occasionally customers came in; but between whiles Janice and the storekeeper's wife could talk.
The racking "clump, clump, clump," of a big-footed farm horse sounded without and a woman's nasal voice called a sharp:
"Whoa! Whoa, there! Now, Emmy, you git aout and hitch him to that there post. Ain't no ring to it? Wal! I don't see what Hope Drugg's thinkin' of—havin' no rings to his hitchin' posts. He ain't had none to that one long's I kin remember."
"Here comes Mrs. Si Leggett," said 'Rill to Janice. "She's a particular woman and I am sorry Hopewell isn't here himself. Usually she comes in the afternoon. She is late with her Saturday's shopping this time."
"Take this basket of eggs—easy, now, Emmy!" shrilled the woman's voice. "Handle 'em careful—handle 'em like they was eggs!"
A heavy step, and a lighter step, on the porch, and then the store door opened. The woman was tall and raw-boned. She wore a sunbonnet of fine green and white stripes. Emmy was a lanky child of fourteen or so, with slack, flaxen hair and a perfectly colorless face.
"Haow-do, Miz' Drugg," said the newcomer, putting a large basket of eggs carefully on the counter. "What's Hopewell givin' for eggs to-day?"
"Just what everybody else is, Mrs. Leggett. Twenty-two cents. That's the market price."
"Wal—seems ter me I was hearin' that Mr. Sprague daowntown was a-givin' twenty-three," said the customer slowly.
"Perhaps he is, Mrs. Leggett. But Mr. Drugg cannot afford to give even a penny above the market price. Of course, either cash or trade—just as you please."
"Wal, I want some things an' I wasn't kalkerlatin' to go 'way daowntown ter-night—it's so late," said Mrs. Leggett.
'Rill smiled and waited.
"Twenty-two's the best you kin do?" queried the lanky woman querulously.
"That is the market price."
"Wal! lemme see some cheap gingham. It don't matter abeout the pattern. It's only for Emmy here, and it don't matter what 'tis that covers her bones' long's it does cover 'em. Will this fade?"
"I don't think so," Mrs. Drugg said, opening the bolt of goods so that the customer could get at it better.
Janice watched, much amused. The woman pulled at the piece one way, and then another, wetting it meantime and rubbing it with her fingers to ascertain if the colors were fast. She was apparently unable to satisfy herself regarding it.
Finally she produced a small pair of scissors and snipped off a tiny piece and handed it to Emmy. "Here, Emmy," she said, "you spit aout that there gum an' chew on this here awhile ter see if it fades any."
Janice dodged behind the post to hide the expression of amusement that she could not control. She wondered how 'Rill could remain so placid and unruffled.
Emmy took the piece of goods, clapped it into her mouth with the most serious expression imaginable, and went to work. Her mother said:
"Ye might's well count the eggs, Miz' Drugg. I make 'em eight dozen and ten. I waited late for the rest of the critters ter lay; but they done fooled me ter-day—for a fac'!"
Emmy having chewed on the gingham to her mother's complete satisfaction, Mrs. Leggett finished making her purchases and they departed. Then 'Rill and her guest could talk again. Naturally the conversation almost at the beginning turned upon Nelson Haley's trouble.
"It is terrible!" 'Rill said. "Mr. Moore and those others never could have thought what they were doing when they accused Mr. Haley of stealing."
"They were afraid that they would have to make good for the coins, and felt that they must blame somebody," Janice replied with a sigh.
"Of course, Hopewell went right over to tell the schoolmaster what he thought about it as soon as the story reached us. Hopewell thinks highly of the young man, you know."
"Until this thing happened, I thought almost everybody thought highly of him," said Janice, with a sob.
"Oh, my dear!" cried 'Rill, tearful herself, "there is such gossip in Polktown. So many people are ready to make ill-natured and untruthful remarks about one——"
Janice knew to what secret trouble the storekeeper's wife referred. "I know!" she exclaimed, wiping away her own tears. "They have talked horridly about Mr. Drugg."
"It is untruthful! It is unfair!" exclaimed Hopewell Drugg's wife, her cheeks and eyes suddenly ablaze with indignation. To tell the truth, she was like an angry kitten, and had the matter not been so serious, Janice must have laughed at her.
"They have told all over town that Hopewell came home intoxicated from that last dance," continued the wife. "But it is a story—a wicked, wicked story!"
Janice was silent. She remembered what she and Marty and Mrs. Scattergood had seen on the evening in question—how Hopewell Drugg had looked as he staggered past the street lamp on the corner on his way home with the fiddle under his arm.
She looked away from 'Rill and waited. Janice feared that the poor little bride would discover the expression of her doubt in her eyes.