Mr. Cross Moore had been to the bank, too; and the sum of money which he had drawn out in crisp twenty and fifty dollar bills was pinned securely to Janice's underwaist.
She merely told the folks that Mr. Moore was going to take his wife out in the car, for he had already learned to run an automobile, it seemed. And if the president of the town selectmen could not license himself to drive a motor car, who could?
Janice's uncle and aunt made no comment; they had other things to think about. If Marty suspected anything he kept his suspicions to himself.
All of course watched the papers for news of Broxton Day; but Mexican news seemed very tame indeed. Those Americans who came out of Chihuahua told dreadful stories; but most of these tales had to be taken with "more than a grain of salt." Many of these "Americans" owned to Spanish-Mexican names, and were merely Americans by naturalization—and that "for business purposes only."
Their tales dealt with the recent uprising in the Companos District; but nothing new was related about what had happened at the mines north of San Cristoval. No mention was made in any dispatches regarding Mr. Broxton Day. Letters to Nelson Haley in reply to his inquiries, both from Washington and the Border, merely said that matters were in such a chaotic state in Chihuahua that no facts were available.
It was on the evening of this eventful day—the day she had sold her car—that Janice went to speak privately with Nelson. Knowing that her uncle would absolutely forbid her departure for the Border if she told him she was going, Janice would not open any discussion with him. She had already written a note to leave for her Uncle Jason and Aunt 'Mira to read after she was gone. But with Nelson it was different. How could she go away from Polktown without telling the young schoolmaster she was going—without sharing with him this secret that now had begun to weigh so heavily on her mind?
She stopped at Hopewell Drugg's for a minute and found the little family in almost a holiday spirit—the storekeeper bustling about waiting on customers, 'Rill at her sewing table, and little Lottie singing over the supper dishes.
"You did the child a world of good, it seems," the storekeeper's wife said softly, to her friend. "Since she spent the night with you, Lottie has been like another girl."
"Don't let her drift away from you again, honey," Janice said, smiling tenderly on the little woman. "Remember, Lottie must have just as deep an interest in this wonderful happening as any of you."
"I—I don't know just how to talk to her," 'Rill whispered, flushing a little.