“Ain’t got no doll!” snapped Jinny. “That’s baby-play. Don’t want t’ come to church. Ye always have to take money.”
“There will be no collection taken up,” Janice assured her. “There will be tea and cakes and a little entertainment of some kind every Saturday afternoon. And if it is too far for you and your two sisters to walk, I’ll come and get you in my car.”
That last was a temptation. It was Janice’s high card and she played it knowingly. Jinny hesitated—but she was not lost. She shook her head stubbornly, and poked her bare toe into the sand—for these children ran bare-legged long after frost.
“Won’t come!” she snarled with finality. “We-uns don’t want nothin’ t’ do with you Yanks, no-ways. I ain’t got no doll. I hate ’em! Go ’long!”
But Janice was sure that the maternal instinct was just as strong in Virginia Trimmins as it was in any little girl in Polktown. She saw her so many times nursing the baby; and she looked after her small brothers and sisters with all the solicitude of a mother-hen with a flock of chicks. Indeed, these days, the baby of the family, a wan little boy, seemed seldom out of Jinny’s arms. He was sickly; but what was the matter with him Janice could not find out.
With her new interests at school, Janice had not forgotten her desire to help and interest the younger girls; and out of this desire had grown the society with which she was endeavoring to net the black-haired Trimmins girl. Janice had interested Mr. and Mrs. Middler, and they were enthusiastic for the plan. The good minister knew that something should be done to counteract the influence of Annette Bowman and the people whom she had enthralled. The little girls should be taught to be happy and sensible at the same time. The large class of girls of Janice’s age and older were becoming more and more frivolous.
Mrs. Middler agreed to teach the sewing class; Janice arranged novel little entertainments for the girls—stereopticon pictures; once a real Punch and Judy show; marionette entertainments; and an occasional talk by one of the teachers from the Middletown Seminary, whom she easily interested in the new society. Chocolate and cakes were supplied by the ladies of the Aid Society, and the new club became popular after the very first meeting.
Thus Janice’s mind, and heart, and hands were very full. Yet she had time to plan for another long expected event. Little Lottie Drugg was coming home, and Janice determined that her return should be celebrated in some way to delight the storekeeper’s child.
She conferred with Miss ’Rill and together they swept and garnished the living-rooms, bought Lottie a dainty white and gold chamber set, painted and re-papered the child’s room—making it the daintiest nest that a little girl ever could have. Janice bought lanterns and flags to decorate the front of the old shop, too; and Hopewell overhauled his stock, re-dressed his windows, and otherwise prepared the old place for the return of the little girl who could see.
Janice and Miss ’Rill went to meet her with the car. One of the teachers traveled from Boston with her, and when little Lottie came down the car steps it was almost impossible for the two friends to believe it was she, she had grown so, and was so changed in other ways.