"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?"