"And your uncle's never been heard from? You never saw him, even?"
"Nor he me," grinned Gummy. "He went off to Australia and never wrote. He was always traveling around the world, Pa said; and he never did write. Just walked in on his folks without announcing he was coming." "A regular wanderer," said Janice.
"And now, jicksy!" exclaimed Gummy, vigorously, "how I'd like to have him walk in on us now."
"Oh, Gummy" she said eagerly, catching the drift of his desire.
"With his pockets full of money!"
The boy nodded vigorously. "You see, Janice, it would be worth while being called 'Gumswith' then, sure enough."
Janice could not blame Gummy Carringford feeling as he did. He really should have something to pay him for being called by such an atrocious name! And Janice herself would be glad to have rich relative walk into the Day house and present daddy—with an automobile, for instance.
They came in sight of the house at Eight Hundred and Forty-five Knight Street just as the very kind of automobile Janice would have loved to own was drawing up before the front door—a handsome, great, big touring car, big enough for her to have taken most of her friends out riding in at once.
"Oh, who is that?" she cried.
"Man. Don't know him," said Gummy, cheerfully, as the single occupant of the tonneau stepped out of the car and entered the gate.
He was a well-dressed man, of more than middle age, and Janice's heart began to beat faster. It did seem as though something must be about to happen.