"I'll go in and see. I shouldn't wonder if he was not playing at all now. Maybe one of the boys has got his fiddle."
"Oh, no! He'd never let that precious violin out of his own hands, would he?" queried Janice. "Why! do you know, Frank, I believe that is quite a valuable instrument."
"I don't know. But when I started uptown one of the visitors was teasing to get hold of the violin. I don't know the man. He is a stranger—a black-haired, foxy-looking chap. Although, by good rights, I suppose a 'foxy-looking' person should be red-haired, eh?"
Janice, however, was not splitting hairs. She said quickly: "Do go in;
Frank, and see what Hopewell is about."
"How'll I get him out?"
"Tell him I want to see him. He'll think something has happened to
'Rill or Lottie. I don't care if he is scared. It may do him good."
"I'll go around by the barroom door," said the young engineer, for they had come to the front entrance of the hotel.
Lights were blazing all over the lower floor of the sprawling building; but from the left of the front door came the sound of dancing. Some of the windows were open and the shades were up. Janice, standing in the darkness of the porch, could see the dancers passing back and forth before the windows.
By the appearance of those she saw, she judged that the girls and women were mostly of the mill-hand class, and were from Middletown and Millhampton. She knew the men of the party were of the same class. The tavern yard was full of all manner of vehicles, including huge party wagons which carried two dozen passengers or more. There was a big crowd.
Janice felt, after all, as though she had urged Frank Bowman into the lion's den! The dancers were a rough set. She left the front porch after a while and stole around to the barroom door.