"Oh, by ginger!" gasped the excited druggist. "For how long, I sh'd admire to know?"
"Till he returns with Janice Day," said Cross Moore.
"I—I second the motion," stammered the minister.
And this decision—finally passed without a dissenting voice—made no more stir in the community than did several occurrences during the days that immediately followed.
Polktown was indeed stirred to its depths. Nelson's hasty departure to "bring back Janice and that Day boy," as it was said, was but one of these surprising happenings.
Something happened at Hopewell Drugg's that excited all the women in the neighborhood.
"Jefers-pelters!" was Walky Dexter's comment. "They run together like a flock o' hens when the rooster finds the wheat-stack. Sich a catouse ye never did hear! Ye'd think, ter listen to 'em, there'd never been a baby born in this town since Adam was a small child—er-haw! haw! haw! I dunno what they would ha' done, I'm sure, if it had been twins."
Uncle Jason came very near to being a deserted husband for a week. Aunt 'Mira seemed determined to live at Hopewell Drugg's. He finally plodded across town and entered the store on the side street with determination in his soul and fire in his eye. The store chanced to be empty, but from the rear room came the wailing notes of Hopewell's violin. Yet there was a sweetness to the tones of the instrument, too, even to Jason Day. Uncle Jason halted and his weather-beaten face lost its hardness and the light of battle died out of his eyes.
"'Rock-a-bye, baby! on the tree-top,'"
wailed the old tune. Uncle Jason tiptoed to the doorway. Hopewell, with the instrument cuddled under his chin, was picking out the old song, but falteringly.