"You speak," said Janice quickly, "as though you still believed Mr.
Haley to be the thief."
"Well!" and again the druggist's hands went through his hair. "I dunno what to think. If he done it, he's actin' mighty funny. There ain't no warrant out for him now. He can leave town—go clean off if he wants—and nobody will, or can, stop him. And ye'd think if he had all that money he would do so."
"Oh, Mr. Massey!"
"Well, I'm merely puttin' the case," said the druggist. "That would be sensible. He's got fifteen hundred dollars or more—if he took the coin collection. An' it ain't doin' him a 'tarnal bit of good, as I can see. I told Cross Moore last night that I believe we'd been barkin' up the wrong tree all this time."
"What did he say?" cried Janice eagerly.
"Well—he didn't say. Ye know how Cross is—as tight-mouthed as a clam with the lockjaw. But it is certain sure that we committeemen have our own troubles. Mr. Haley was a master good teacher. Ye got to hand it to him on that. And this feller the Board sent us ain't got no more idea of handling the school than I have of dancing the Spanish fandango.
"However, that ain't the p'int. What I was speakin' of is this: Nelse Haley is either a blamed fool, or else he never stole that money," and the druggist said it with desperation in his tone. "I hear he's took a job at sixteen a month and board with Elder Concannon—and farmin' for the elder ain't a job that no boy with money and right good sense would ever tackle."
"Oh, Mr. Massey! Has he?" for this was news indeed to Janice.
"Yep. That's what he's done. It looks like his runners was scrapin' on bare ground when he'd do that. Course, I need a feller right in this store—behind that sody-fountain. And a smart, nice appearin' one like Nelse Haley would be just the ticket—'nough sight better than Jack Besmith was. But I couldn't hire the schoolteacher, 'cause it would create so much talk. But goin' to work on a farm—and for a slave-driver like the elder—Well!"
Janice understood very well why Nelson had said nothing to her about this. He was very proud indeed and did not want the girl to suspect how poor he had really become. Nelson had said he would stay in Polktown until the mystery of the stolen coin collection was cleared up—or, at least, until it was proved that he had nothing to do with it.