There had been a time not so very long before when Janice and the president of the town selectmen had been at variance. Mr. Cross Moore had desired the Polktown hotel to retain its liquor license while the girl had championed the dry cause. The latter had won; but Cross Moore was a good loser. Mrs. Moore might be angry with Janice Day; but her husband had always held what he termed "a sneaking fondness for that Day girl" and no matter how much they might conflict in politics or opinion, the man respected Janice's earnestness and appreciated her unselfishness.
Coming down the hilly street, guiding her car skillfully around the "hubbly" places, Janice saw Mrs. Beaseley out sweeping the narrow brick walk laid in front of her gate. The tall and solemn-looking woman, still dressed in mourning for the husband dead now many years, and whose memory she worshiped, gave the girl a frosty smile, although Janice knew there was an exceedingly warm heart behind it.
"You air late going to school, Janice Day," she said. "Mr. Haley went an hour ago."
"I am not going to the seminary this morning," the girl replied, stopping her car. "Everything is all right with you, I suppose, Mrs. Beaseley?"
"Oh, yes," the widow said, sighing mournfully. "I have my health, and should be thankful for't I s'pose. My sainted Charles useter say that health was ev'rything in this world—an' 'twas to him. When he lost his health he lost all his zest for livin'. He had allus been a robust man up to his sickness. He was a heavy feeder and as long as he eat his victuals with guster I felt he was all right.
"Now, Mr. Haley, he ain't never jest suited me regardin' eatin'. It does seem as though a young man like him should put away more victuals than he does."
"Well, I'm sure he never gets up from your table hungry, dear Mrs. Beaseley," laughed Janice. "And some of the doctors say that one should do that to insure a long life."
"What! go hungry?" gasped this scandalized housewife.
"Not eating quite all we think we want at each meal," explained Janice.
"Wal! for the good Land o' Goshen! I hev said—an' I stick to it—that doctors is given more nowadays to change in styles an' fashions than what silly women air—even that Bowman gal that cut up such didoes in Polktown last winter.