"Come on, old feller," said Trimmins. "I want to talk to you. If you are favorable inclined, I reckon I got jest the job you've been lookin' for."
The two went off behind the cottage. Janice did not know then that there was a short cut to High Street and the Lake View Inn.
Sophie came running to the door to welcome the visitor, her thin little arms red and soapy from dish-water.
"I knowed 'twas you," she said, smiling happily. "They told me you was the only girl in town that owned one o' them cars. And I told mom that you must be awful rich and kind. Course, you must be, or you couldn't afford to give away ten cent pieces so easy."
Mrs. Narnay came to the door, too, her arms right out of the washtub; but Janice begged her not to inconvenience herself. "Keep right on with your work and I'll come around to the back and sit on that stoop," said the young girl.
"And you must see the baby," Sophie urged. "I can bring out the baby if I wrap her up good, can't I, Marm?"
"Have a care with the poor child, Sophie," said Mrs. Narnay, wearily.
"Where's your pop gone?"
"He's walked out with Mr. Trimmins," said the little girl.
The woman sighed, and Janice, all through her visit, could see that she was anxious about her absent husband. The baby was brought out—a pitifully thin, but pretty child—and Sophie nursed her little sister with much enjoyment.
"I wisht she was twins," confessed the little girl. "It must be awful jolly to have twins in the family."