The Mission of Janice Day Part 18

"Of course, she doesn't really mean it," he finally told himself, and went back to the correction of the pile of compositions on his table.

It was quite true. n.o.body believed she meant it except Mr. Cross Moore.

And the selectman had perhaps a higher opinion of Janice Day's ability than most people in Polktown. We respect a person who was got the best of us in any event, and Mr. Moore had reason for considering this young girl to be the princ.i.p.al person involved in his recent defeat in town politics.

At another time Janice might have been somewhat piqued by the apparent fact that n.o.body believed she could or would start for Mexico. She had thought her reputation in Polktown for determination and the carrying out of anything she undertook to be such that her friends would believe that, when she said a thing, she meant it. She had been a _do something_ girl since first she had come to this Vermont village to live. They might have been warned by past events of what to expect of Janice Day when once she had made up her mind.

She had already packed her bag. It made her unhappy to do this secretly and to sit with the family during the evening without saying a word regarding her plans.

Walky Dexter looked in for a little while; but he was unable for once to raise the general temperature of the social spirit. As for Marty, Janice caught him several times looking at her so strangely that she feared he suspected something. Walky noted the boy's strange mood, for he finally drawled:

"Jefers-pelters, Marty! what's ailin' on ye? Ye look like Peleg Swift did arter he eat the three black crows."

"Huh! that old wheeze!" growled Marty. "He didn't eat no three crows. He only ate something they said was burned as black as a crow. One o' his wife's biscuit, I bet."

"He, he! Mebbe you're right," chuckled Walky.

"I reckon on givin' Marty a good dose ef jalap," said his mother. "I was thinkin' for sev'ral days he was lookin' right peaked."

"There!" fairly yelled Marty to Mr. Dexter. "See what you got me in for?

You are about as much use as the last b.u.t.ton on a rattlesnake's tail, you are!"

But Marty dodged the unwelcome, old-fas.h.i.+oned remedy that night. He slipped away early--presumably to bed. Janice was not long in going to her room; but she did not lie down to sleep. When the house was dead-still, all save the mice in the walls and the solemn ticking of the hall clock, the girl arose and dressed for departure.

The _Constance Colfax_ made her trip down the lake in the morning, halting for freight and for any chance pa.s.sengers at the Polktown dock at six o'clock. The steamer got into Popham Landing before ten o'clock, in time for the morning train to Albany.

Janice was ready for departure long before it was time to leave the house. At this time of year it was quite dark at half-past five. When she crept out with her bag the frost was crisp under foot.

The steamboat was whistling mournfully for the landing. She saw n.o.body astir on Hillside Avenue, but when she reached High Street two drummers were leaving the Lake View Inn with their sample cases. There seemed n.o.body else going to the steamboat dock; Janice drew her veil closer and hurried on.

Walky Dexter did not make an appearance. She had heard him say the evening before that all the freight and express matter was already at the dock and that he could sleep late for once.

Indeed, it seemed as though everything worked in Janice Day's favor.

There was n.o.body abroad to see her, or to object to her departure.

At home, when the family arose, they would not at first think her absence from the kitchen strange. Aunt 'Mira would say: "Oh! let her sleep a while if she will."

Janice could hear the tones of her aunt's voice, and her eyelids stung suddenly with unbidden tears.

Later they would go to her room to call her and find the note to Uncle Jason she had left pinned to the cus.h.i.+on on her bureau.

CHAPTER XIII

MARTY EXPANDS

We are p.r.o.ne to judge other people from our inner secret knowledge of self. When we say we think another person would do a certain thing, we usually base our opinion upon what we would be tempted to do under like circ.u.mstances.

Thus it was that Marty Day knew in his heart exactly what his Cousin Janice was about to attempt. Why, to use his own effulgent expression, "there was nothing to it!" Of course she would seize the first opportunity that opened to go to the Border in search of Uncle Brocky.

Would he not do the same thing himself if his father were captured and wounded by the Mexicans? "A fellow would have to be a regular hard-boiled egg to dodge his duty when his father was in such trouble,"

the boy told himself; and in Marty's opinion Janice Day was a "regular fellow."

He listened to all the objections raised by the older folks just as Janice did. And they made about the same impression on him that they did upon his cousin. Indeed, he was somewhat angered by the way Nelson Haley and Frank Bowman joined in this advice with the others against the idea of Janice going to the Border.

"But, shucks!" thought the lad. "They _had_ to talk that way. That comes of being really grown up. Right down in their hearts you bet Nelse Haley and Frank Bowman are only sorry they can't go down there themselves to hunt for Uncle Brocky."

Perhaps Marty was not so far from the truth in this surmise. Nelson and Frank were in the early years of their manhood. There was something very attractive in the idea of starting out on such a mission as Janice planned.

Marty did not hint to his cousin that he suspected her intention. But he followed her on that busy day--followed every move she made. He was sure she had sold her car to Cross Moore. Marty had a friend in Middletown to whom he telephoned and through whom he learned that both Janice and Mr.

Moore had been seen in the National Bank.

He immediately borrowed Frank Bowman's motorcycle and hurried over to Middletown before the banks closed. As his father had said, Mrs. Day had deposited a "nest-egg" for Marty in the savings bank and had given him the book. The boy proceeded to draw out the money on his account to the very last cent of interest.

"Hi tunket!" he thought as he whizzed back toward Polktown. "It ain't much; but it'll help _some_.

"Mebbe dad and ma may need me and my money a lot; but Janice is going to need me first--of course she is. She can't go clear 'way down there to Mexico _alone_." Which shows that Marty shared the general masculine feeling that, being "only a girl," Janice could not really carry out her intention. "She's got to have a man along whether she thinks she needs one or not. And, hi tunket! I'm going to be _it_."

Marty, however, was not altogether visionary. He had made it his business to find out about what it would cost to get to the Border, and he realized he must have money for other expenses besides his car fare.

On returning the motorcycle to the civil engineer he took his courage in both hands and said:

"Mr. Bowman, would you do me a great favor?"

"I think so, Marty. What is it?" returned Frank, smiling into the freckled, perspiring face of the boy. "Want to borrow my dress suit or a hundred dollars?"

"The hundred dollars," Marty told him gaspingly.

"You don't mean it!"

"Yes, sir; I do. And I can't tell you what I want it for, nor for how long I'm going to need it. But I'll pay it back."

"Marty," said his friend, "I've got only seventy-five dollars handy.

Will that do?"

"It'll haf to."

"Do you mean it?" demanded the good-natured engineer. "Do you really mean you need it?"

"Yes, sir! I need it all right, all right. And I don't want you should ask me what for. And I don't want you should tell anybody."

At another time Frank Bowman might have hesitated. But knowing the trouble Mr. Day was in over the Hotchkiss notes, he suspected Marty was bent on helping his father with some needed sum of money. He took out his notecase and handed the seventy-five dollars to Marty in banknotes.

"You're a good fellow, Mr. Bowman," the boy cried.

"So are you," responded the engineer, smiling into the lad's eyes.