In spite of herself the woman took the bag, and Janice ran quickly back to the car. When she went out of sight past the woods Mrs. Trimmins’ bulky figure still filled the doorway of the cabin, but she had not dropped the paper bag.
At least—so thought Janice—she had made a small beginning in her task of getting acquainted with “them Trimminses.” She had learned that the girl she particularly wished to get at was named “Jinny”—probably short for Virginia. Janice was sure the black-haired girl was bright, if she was mischievous.
Janice had never met just such people as these squatters before. Indeed, they were quite as foreign to the Vermont soil as European emigrants would have been. By Mrs. Trimmins’ speech it was easy to tell that she came from the South; and had all the dislike for the “Yanks” that a certain class of Southerners are still supposed to retain.
“But they must be reached with kindness. Perhaps nobody, since they came here, has shown them friendliness. A lot of these old farmers haven’t forgotten the Civil War yet; they’d have nothing but contempt, anyway, for shiftless people like these Trimminses.
“How amazed she seemed just because I wanted to do her children a kindness. It is dreadful to think that all the neighbors round about have been so careless and hard toward them. I must find out more about the Trimminses—and how they came to be away up here.”
She found out something more about the Trimmins children, at least, that very day. When she drove the car back along the wood road, she drove slowly by the cabin, as usual. Not a child appeared, nor was the woman herself in sight.
Just beyond was a piece of road bordered by a thick hedge of brush on either side. Janice was still driving slowly. Suddenly, out of the mask of bushes, rose a series of yells that would have done credit to a band of wild Comanches.
Involuntarily Janice shut off power. She should have speeded up instead, for through the brush on either side of the road charged the whole crowd of young Trimmins—from the sixteen or seventeen-year-old boys down to the toddlers. But “Jinny” was without doubt their leader.
“Give it to her!” shrieked the black-haired girl. “Give it to the nasty, stuck-up Yank! We’ll show her we don’t want her old charity presents! Give it to her!”
The shrieks were accompanied by a shower of popcorn and peanuts. Janice was bombarded as though with confetti, a lot of it falling in the tonneau as she accelerated the speed and shot away from the yelling, dancing crew.