She had arranged with Miss ’Rill and her mother to take them to Middletown for some shopping; but they were not, after all, ready to make the trip. It must be put off for another week, and Janice agreed to the change in the arrangements. Having the car with her she did not feel like staying at the Scattergoods’ little home for a call, so drove on up the hill.
There was a little flock of women out in front of Frederica Morgan’s house. Her cousin from Montpelier was dressed for departure, and had her bags piled on the sidewalk in a small pyramid. Frederica’s daughter, Cala, was likewise dressed for a journey.
“What’s the matter?” asked Janice, stopping at the horse-block, and seeing that the whole party was excited over something.
“That plagued Walky Dexter jest sent word that his old Josephus has gone an’ fell lame and he can’t take us to the train. Drat the man!” exclaimed Mrs. Morgan, who was a gaunt-looking, masculine sort of woman. “Mahala here has sent word to her folks to meet her to-night with their carry-all at the Montpelier station, and Cala was goin’ with her on a visit. Now they won’t ever know what’s become of Mahala and Cala till some time Monday. Polktown is sure enough the sawed-off end o’ nothin’! We could all be wiped off the earth here and nobody outside the town would know it for three days.”
Janice had begun to smile as Mrs. Morgan talked. Now she broke in with:
“Let me help you out, please. I have nothing particular to do, and I can take you over to Middletown in ample time for the train.”
“Gracious, Janice! we couldn’t all pile into that ortermobile with our baggage,” gasped Cala, who was a freckled, stringy girl, promising to be just as awkward as her mother.
“Is your mother going?” asked Janice doubtfully.
“She ain’t gotter,” spoke up Frederica promptly. She was a widow, and masterful, and everybody called her by her first name. “I dunno but I’m bridle-shy of them gasoline things, anyway. And I can kiss Mahala and Cala right here jest as well as though I went dean to the Middletown station with ’em.”
So it was quickly arranged. Mahala and Mrs. Morgan’s daughter got into the tonneau, and the various bags and extension boxes were piled in about them and about Janice on the front seat. The car was started slowly, amid a chorus of “good-byes” and Janice took the longer way to Middletown over the mountain. There was plenty of time, it was a lovely afternoon, and the rain the night before had laid the dust.