"I do not care," said Janice, seriously, and looking up at him with pride. "I shall thank you. And I shall never forget that you said it was my little influence that made you do it."
"Your little influence——"
But she hastened to add: "It's a really great thing for me to think of. And how proud and glad I'll be by and by—years and years from now, I mean—when you accomplish some great thing and I can think that it was because of what I said that you first began to use your influence for good among these people——"
Her voice broke a little and she halted. She feared she had gone too far and that perhaps Nelson Haley would misunderstand her. But he was only silent for a moment. Then, turning to her and grasping her hands firmly, he said:
"Do you mean that, Janice?"
"Yes. I mean just that," she said, rather flutteringly. "Oh! here comes a wagon. It must be Walky."
"Never mind Walky," said Nelson, firmly. "I want to tell you that I sha'n't forget what you've said. If there really is a nice girl like you feeling proud of me, I'm going to do just my very best to retain her good opinion. You see if I don't!"
They were in the shadow as Walky drove by and he did not see them. After that Janice and the teacher hurried on so as not to be overtaken by the noisy party of young folks before they reached the village.
As they came up the hill toward Hopewell Drugg's store they saw a dim light in the storekeeper's back room, and the wailing notes of his violin reached their ears.
"Hopewell is grinding out his usual classic," chuckled Nelson Haley.
"I hear him at it morning, noon, and night. Seems to me 'Silver
Threads Among the Gold' is kind of passé."