She heard him spring to his feet and overturn the chair in which he had been sitting.
"Nelson! it's only me," Janice quavered, the pulse beating painfully in her throat. "Let me in—do!"
He came across the room slowly. She heard him fumble at the key and knob. Then the door opened.
"Oh, Nelson!" she repeated, when she saw him in the darkened parlor.
The pallor of his face went to her heart. His hair was disheveled; his eyes red from weeping. After all, he was just a big boy in trouble, and with no mother to comfort him.
All the maternal instincts of Janice Day's nature went out to the young fellow. "Nelson! Nelson!" she cried, under her breath. "You poor, poor boy! I'm so sorry for you."
"Janice—you——" He stammered, and could not finish the phrase.
She cried, emphatically: "Of course I believe in you, Nelson. We all do! You must not take it so to heart. You will not bear it all alone, Nelson. Every friend you have in Polktown will help you."
She had come close to him, her hands fluttering upon his breast and her eyes, sparkling with teardrops, raised to his face.
"Oh, Janice!" he groaned, and swept her into his arms.