"I know," agreed Broxton Day. "But about Arlo?"
"I'm coming to that," she said smiling. "You see, Arlo Junior was just about through when his mother come over looking for him. She wanted him to go on an errand. She saw what he had been doing for me, for he had an apron on and the broom in his hand."
"Caught with the goods, in other words?" chuckled Mr. Day.
"Yes. And we couldn't tell her why he was helping me. So she said right out:
"'Why, Arlo Junior! If you can help Janice like this— and you and she were fighting the other day—you can come right home and clean out the woodshed. It needs it.'
"And—and," laughed Janice, "he had to do it. He worked pretty near all day to-day. And he scowled at me dreadfully this afternoon."
"He will be playing other tricks on you," warned her father.
"Well, there will be no Olga to make them worse," she sighed. "That is one sure thing. Oh, dear, Daddy, I wonder where she is—and the treasure-box! It is too, too hateful for anything!"
"I called up the pickle factory where Willie Sangreen works. They had heard nothing from him. It looks as though Olga and he must have gone away together. Stole a march on all their friends and got married, maybe."
"But why should she take my treasure-box?" cried Janice. "Oh,
Daddy! I can never forgive myself for my carelessness."