"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."
"Dr. Poole!" they cried, as one.
"Bad news for you, Janice," said the red-faced doctor, in his brusk way. "Know you're interested in that Narnay youngster. I've just come from there. I've got to go half way to Bristol to set a feller's leg. They telephoned me. Before I could get there and back that Narnay baby is going to be out of the reach of all my pills and powders."
He did not say it harshly; it was Dr. Poole's way to be brusk.
"Oh, Doctor! Will it surely die?"
"Not two hours to live—positively," said the physician, gathering up the reins. "I'm sorry for Jim. If the fellow is a drunkard, he is mighty tender-hearted when it comes to kids—and he's sober," he added, under his breath.
"Is he there?" asked Janice, quickly.