It was plain that Mrs. Carringford was greatly comforted. When she left, Janice whispered to her father: "I'm awfully proud of you, Daddy. You do have such a way with you!"
But helping other people out of their troubles was not helping the Days out of their particular Slough of Despond. So many difficulties seemed reaching out to clutch at Janice and Daddy! The girl thought it was like walking through a briar-patch. Every step they took, trouble retarded them.
First and foremost the disappearance of that strange Olga Cedarstrom, and the loss of the box of heirlooms, was continually in Janice's mind. The girls at school knew about it, although only Amy knew just how serious the loss was to the Days.
The puzzle regarding the girl named Olga who had helped in the Latham's kitchen the night of Stella's birthday party, had been noised abroad among Janice's school friends, and more or less comment was made upon it.
"Say, Janice, did you ever find out what became of that Swede who broke Mrs. Latham's dish the night we were all there?" asked one of the girls one day. "Didn't you say she might be the very girl who ran away from your house?"
"Yes! I did think so. But it was not the same. Her friends said this girl was not named Cedarstrom."
"Well, who'd want such a name, anyway?" laughed another of the party.
Stella was herself one of those present; but at this time she was not speaking to Janice. She laughed maliciously when Janice Day had gone.
"What's the matter with you, Stella?" asked Bertha Warring.
"Your 'ha, ha' is like that of the villain in the melodrama.
What is the matter?"
"Oh, never mind," returned Stella, apparently very much enjoying her own secret thoughts.