CHAPTER XVII. MISS PECKHAM WASHES HER HANDS
"It seemed that Mrs. Sophronia Watkins had never sent for hertrunk; so all she had to do was to pack her bag and walk out ofthe house. And she had done that very thing.
"'What can't be cured, must be endured,'" quoted Daddy. "Here isa nice little island of clean floor where you scrubbed, Janice.I will build the fire, heat water, and finish the job."
'"Oh, no, Daddy! Let me. Your poor knees--" "My knees are notpoor, I'd have you know," he retorted, laughing. "You dustaround and make the house presentable for Sunday. 'Thus endeththe lesson.' No more 'lady' housekeepers, Janice, for us."
"No-o. I s'pose not. But who shall we get?"
"That is on the knees of the gods, my child," answered Daddy, whooften used quotations that Janice did not altogether understand,but which she thought were very fine, just the same."I guess you mean that nobody knows unless he's omniscient," shesaid now. "That's a big word, Daddy, but we had it in our lessonthe other day. And I guess only somebody who knows everythingcould guess who will work for us next. Oh, dear!"
"These three weeks have been an expensive experience," said herfather, ruefully enough. "Besides the addition to our householdbills, Mrs. Watkins asked me the other evening for her month'swages. 'Salary,' she called it. She was about ten days ahead oftime; but I gave it to her.
"So we can figure that our month's expenses have been aboutdoubled. We could not stand that for long, Janice. Perhaps itis a blessing that Mrs. Watkins has taken herself off."
"Just the same, Daddy, I'm sorry you came home and caught mescrubbing the floor," Janice sighed. "We were getting alongwithout your being bothered--after a fashion."
"At your cost," he said grimly. "No; we'll hobble alongsomehow."
"But it's such a hobble, Daddy! It seems to me that I'm not muchof a 'do something' girl or I'd manage better than I do." AndJanice sighed.
"You do wonders, daughter, for a girl of your age. Maybe it isdaddy who fails."
"Oh, Daddy, never!"
Janice hurried to do the things Mrs. Watkins had left undone.And so she forgot some little purchases that had to be made,until it was almost dark.
Remembering these, she put on her hat and jacket in haste, andtelling her father where she was going, ran out to the street.There were the "Weeks' tribe," Junior in the lead, with most ofthe other children of the neighborhood, running through LoveStreet in a noisy and excited throng.
"What can be the matter now? A fire?" wondered Janice.
Her errand took her in an opposite direction. But she saw peoplestanding at their gates and chatting to each other as thoughthere was some neighborhood interest that she did not know about.
"What is the matter with everybody?" Janice asked one girl whomshe met.
"Why, didn't you see it?" was the surprised answer.
"Maybe I did, only I didn't know what it was," laughed Janice.
"A dancing bear. A great, big, brown fellow. You never saw thelike," said her acquaintance.
"Well," thought Janice, "we cannot hire a dancing bear to do ourhousework, that is sure. So I don't believe he interests me."
She did the errand and hastened home, for daddy and she had notyet had supper. She ran in at the side door, and as she did soshe heard voices in the kitchen. She halted, listening; for oneof the voices she recognized as Miss Peckham's and it washigh-pitched and angry.
"I wash my hands of you both--I can tell you that? exclaimed thespinster from next door. "I don't know why I should have putmyself out to help you, Broxton Day, in any case."
"I do not see why you should," Daddy replied rapidly. "Yet Ibelieve you meant well, and I thank you."
"'Meant well'?" sniffed the visitor. "I don't know what that'sgot to do with it. I gave you both--both Sophrony and you--thechance of your lives. And neither of you appreciate it. I washmy hands of you.Janice pushed open the door quietly and stepped in, closing itafter her. Miss Peckham, with flashing black eyes and more colorin her face than usual, had drawn herself up commandingly in themiddle of the kitchen floor and was staring at Mr. Day angrily.
"There's that gal!" exclaimed the spinster. "She's the one toblame."
"I assure you to the contrary, Janice was doing her best to hideMrs. Watkins' shortcomings from me," said Mr. Day, smiling warmlyat his daughter.
"It don't matter. 'Twas over her you and Sophrony quarreled.You admit it."
"I certainly do not admit that I quarreled with Mrs. Watkins," hesaid firmly. "She evidently took offense
at what I said to her, and she left. Now she cannot come back.Under no circumstances would I consider it."
"Well, I wash my hands of you both!" exclaimed Miss Peckhamagain, and she turned sharply toward the back door--the dooropposite the one by which Janice had just entered.
The matter of washing her hands seemed important, if only afigure of speech. She repeated it angrily as she jerked open thekitchen door. And then she uttered a strange, squeaking cry thatstartled Janice and her father before they caught sight of whathad caused the woman's fright.
Miss Peckham seemed transfixed with terror. She threw up herhands stiffly and toppled over backward. She fell just as thoughshe had not a joint in her body, and she fell so hard that herfeet sprang up into the air when her shoulders and the back ofher head struck the floor.
Standing upright, framed by the doorframe, was a huge, shaggy,ragged looking bear, and he was snuffling and whining as bears dowhen they want something. Really the bear was begging, but noneof those in the kitchen for a moment realized that fact.
Mr. Day grabbed the poker. Janice squealed and hid behind him.But her single affrighted cry was all the sound Miss Peckhammade. She really had collapsed in what Janice thought was afaint.
Before Mr. Day could attack the creature, a whining voice fromthe darkness behind the bear said:
"Bread-butter, please, Signore--Signora. Pietro no bite. Hegooda bear. Give supper, please. Pietro lika bread-butter."
The bear came down upon his forepaws, still whining. They couldsee, then, the chain by which a very dark man, with little goldrings in his ears, held the animal in leash. The trainer smiledvery broadly while Pietro snuffed curiously at the soles of MissPeckham's shoes.
And Miss Peckham kicked the harmless Pietro on the nose.
Janice Day, the Young Homemaker Page 17
