The schoolmaster's heart thrilled again at the thought. She meant it—of course she did! Janice, he should have known, always meant what she said.
But now, in the light of her courageous action in leaving alone for the Border, the memory of her words impressed the young man more deeply. She would have dared any danger, she intimated, had it been Nelson who she believed needed her; why should he have doubted for a moment that she was brave enough to seek her wounded father?
"I'm a selfish, ignorant fool!" Nelson railed in secret. "I do not deserve to be loved by such a girl. I don't half appreciate her. What a helpless, ineffectual thing I am! And what now can I do to aid or encourage her? Nothing! I have lost my chance. What can she think of me?"
He thus took himself to task that evening in his study. The whole town rang with the story of Janice's departure and with the belief that Marty Day had either accompanied his cousin or followed her in a boyish attempt to assist in her mission.
"She ain't like other gals," Mrs. Beaseley mourned at the supper table. "Do have another helpin' of col' meat, Mr. Haley—an' try this pertater salad. It's by a new receipt.
"I count her quite able ter take keer of herself ord'narily, Mr. Haley. What worries me is her eatin'," added the widow, passing the plate of hot biscuits to her boarder.
"If folks don't eat right, as my sainted Charles often said, they ain't got the chance't of a rabbit when anythin' happens 'em. No, sir! Do eat that quarter o' layer cake, Mr. Haley. 'Tis the las' piece an' I do despise to make a fresh cake while there's any of the old left.
"The eatin' on them trains an' in them railroad stations, they tell me, is somethin' drefful. I hope you'll make out a supper, Mr. Haley."
Hopewell Drugg, in a worried state of mind, came across the street to consult Nelson. He did not know what his wife would do or say when she learned that Janice had left town.
"I sincerely hope Miss Janice will find her father and bring him back to Polktown soon," the storekeeper said.