"She never was more'n half bright, that Biddy Garrity. That was her name before she married Tom Burns. And he died. Blowed up in the powder mill. That was old Garrity who came for her. She ain't got no right to run off and leave her two children and that old man to get along as best they can. But she does it—often. I thought there would be trouble just as soon as I seen her sitting on your steps t'other day."
"Well, I wish we'd known it," sighed Janice. "She— she did seem sort of funny. But she wasn't much worse than some of the others we've had."
"Humph!" sniffed Miss Peckham, "just what I told your father last night. You need a manager here—somebody to take hold"
"I shall have to take hold now and see about getting dinner for daddy," Janice responded, recovering a measure of her self-confidence. "Come on in, Amy, and watch me work."
"If I come in and help you," said her friend. "I guess you won't have to do it all."
A glance through the lower rooms proved that Delia had done little more toward straightening the house this day than the day before.
"Goodness, mercy me, Janice Day!" exclaimed Amy Carringford. "I'm awfully glad we don't have to have servants. It must be awful!"
"It just is," sighed Janice. "You never know when you come home from school whether you will find the girl or not. And you're 'most always sure to find that not half the work's been done. Well, I can get daddy some sort of a dinner myself tonight."
"What are you going to cook? Let me help," said Amy eagerly. "I know how to make lovely rolls—only you have to set the sponge the night before. And Judge Peters's pudding is just luscious! Only you have to have currants and citron and chopped nuts to go into it."
"We won't have either of those things for dinner, then," said
Janice, with a cheerful laugh.