Janice bade her new acquaintance good-bye with some difficulty. The woman by the roadside did love to talk. But when the girl was well rested she went on.
She remembered very clearly the way she and daddy had come to the little Johnson cottage in the automobile. So she knew she could find her way back. One thing she did not take into consideration, however; that was, that an automobile gets over the ground a great deal faster than one can walk.
An hour later, past mid-afternoon, dusty and footsore, she was still marching towards Greensboro along a very pleasant, but a very wearisome, road. She heard the rumble of wheels behind her, but she was too tired to turn to look.
Motor car after motor car had passed her while she was trudging along in the dust, and not one driver stopped to offer her a lift.
But a friendly voice now hailed her as a horse was drawn down to a walk. It reached Janice Day's ear like an angelic whisper:
"Don't you want to ride, Miss?"
She wheeled about with almost a scream of joy. "Gummy
Carringford!"
"Jicksy! Is that you, Janice?" gasped the boy. "I'd never know it, you're so smothered in dust. What are you doing away out here? Get in—do!"
He offered her a hand and pulled her up to the high step into the front of the covered wagon. She almost fell to the seat.
"You are the best boy!" she gasped.