"Why, try the next applicant," said Broxton Day easily. "I will look in at the agencies again."
"I'm afraid that won't do any good, Daddy," sighed Janice.
"Delia came from the agency, and you see what she was like. And
Olga—"
"No," interrupted Mr. Day, "Olga came direct from Pickletown."
"Well, it doesn't matter. There were plenty of others from the agencies, all as bad or worse than Olga and Delia," and Janice looked much downcast.
"Oh, little daughter, little daughter!" admonished Mr. Day, "don't give way like that. Some time, out of the lot, we'll find the right person."
"Well, maybe," agreed Janice, cheerful once more. "I guess we've already had all the bad ones. Those that are left to come to us must be just ordinary human beings with some good and some sense mixed in with the bad."
It proved to be a very busy day, indeed, for Janice— that
Saturday. But she did not overlook her promise to Amy
Carringford. Yet it was mid-afternoon when she started for
Mullen Lane with the pink and white party dress in a neat package
over her arm.
Janice could not overlook the poverty-stricken appearance of the Carringford cottage. It could not, indeed, be ignored by even the casual glance. But its cleanliness, and everybody's neatness about the little dwelling, portrayed the fact that here was a family putting its best foot forward. Mrs. Carringford was proud. Janice Day knew that she must be very cautious indeed if she would see Amy adorned with her own finery.
"Dear Mrs. Carringford," she whispered to her friend's mother, "I've got a surprise for you. I want Amy to come upstairs with me, and by and by, when we call you up, please come and look into her room."
Amy, according to agreement, had said nothing about the dress to her mother. She was eager, but doubtful just the same.