CHAPTER XXIV. "WHERE THERE'S SMOKE THERE'S FIRE."
If it had not been for Mrs. Carringford's presence in the house,this experience certainly would have been a very hard one forJanice Day. For although the trials of housekeeping had beenserious for the young girl, they were not all that had so vexedher and weighted her mind with sorrow.
But her father's injury shocked her out of the mental rut whichshe had been following. She had to wait on him, hand and foot;and it gave her so many new thoughts and new things to do, thatfor a time at least Janice Day's old troubles were pretty muchsloughed away.
They had managed to make Mr. Day comfortable on the living-roomcouch, and it was easier to care for him there than it would havebeen were he in his bedroom. Besides, he very much objected to"being invalided to the upper story" while he was tied down witha broken leg.
Mr. Arlo Weeks came in night and morning to help turn the injuredman, and remake his bed. Mr. Weeks was, after all, a goodneighbor; he was more helpful than anybody else who came to theDay house, save Mrs. Carringford.
The surgeon came now and then to restrap the broken leg. Some ofMr. Day's business associates called to see how he was gettingon. The injured man was not hard to take care of. He couldread, propped up on the couch, and although he sufferedconsiderable pain he did not allow Janice to discover that he wasuncomfortable.
But at first he did net sleep well at night, and he had somefever. Mrs. Carringford was careful in his diet; and she neverseemed to contradict him or to thwart his wishes. She had a waywith her that Janice could but admire and pattern after.
The girl saw that even daddy was not quite his very sensible selfwhen he was an invalid. He had to be humored at times; and theydid all that was possible to keep him from fretting.
Broxton Day had been a very active man. Business affairs ofwhich he had sole charge were bound to go wrong when he could notwield power as he was wont. And these things all bothered himwhen the nagging pain of the broken leg increased, as itsometimes did, at night.
"Oh, what should I have done without you, Mrs. Carringford?"breathed Janice, often taking comfort in the kindly woman's armsfor a momentary hug. I do think Amy and Gummy and the littleones are awfully nice not to make any more objection than they doto your being up here."
"Oh, they quarrel enough with me about it at times," laughed Mrs.Carringford. "But I tell them if it was not here, it would haveto be somewhere else. I have got to work, my dear. I can seethat plainly. Every day the appetites of my little familyincrease and their needs grow. The rate at which Kate and EdnaMay and Syd wear out shoes-- Well!"
"Let them go barefooted," giggled Janice. "I know they areteasing you all the time about it"
"No!" cried Mrs. Carringford, with warmth. "I know we live inMullen Lane and it is not always possible for me to dress mychildren as nicely as I wish; but they shall not run barefootlike the little hoodlums that live about us. And Syd bothers meto death about it."
But Janice could only laugh a bit at this. She herself sometimesran barefooted around the house and yard, though she was growingtoo big for that now, and she did not blame the littleCarringfords for wanting to do so.
At any rate, she was very, very grateful to Mrs. Carringford forstepping into the breach at this time and helping them--andgrateful to Amy and Gummy, as well.
Amy was a smart little housewife, and she had a gentle but firmway with the smaller children that kept them well in hand whentheir mother was out of the way.
Gummy, driving Mr. Harriman's delivery wagon, was at the Dayhouse once or twice a day to see his mother, and of course Mrs.Carringford was always at home by seven or eight o'clock atnight. The Days had set forward their dinner hour while Mr. Daywas held in the house.
Janice would not sleep upstairs herself at first, while herfather so often needed her. She made up a bed on another couchthat was drawn in from the dining room, and slept there. Oftenin the night daddy grew restless and was thankful for a glass offresh water or for some other small comfort.
There was one night Janice knew she should never forget, nomatter to what age she lived. It was soon after her father wasbrought home "an invalid," as he laughingly called it. He hadbeen in much pain all day, and Janice new it well enough,although he smothered his groans when she was within hearing.
But he could not smother his mutterings at night. Toward dark hegrew feverish and very restless. And when one has a "glass leg,"as the ambulance man had called it and cannot twist and toss torelieve that restless feeling, one's situation is, indeed,pitiful.
Janice put out the living-room light early. The light only madethe night flying insects buzz and blunder at the window screens.And how is it that moth millers will get into the most closelyscreened house? This was a vexing mystery to Janice.
After it was dark and the insects went to buzz elsewhere daddydropped to sleep. Janice had been upstairs to remove herclothing, and had come down again with a thin negligee over hernightgown.
She listened to her father's uneven breathing and to his restlessmurmurs. Before creeping into her own cot across the room, shewent softly to daddy's side and knelt on the floor. His face wasflushed and his thick hair wet with perspiration. The barber hadnot been to shave him for two days, and Janice just knew the"prickles" on his face must feed very uncomfortable.
His head rolled from side to side upon the pillow. She wishedshe could do something to relieve him. She did not want to wakehim up; but if she could only lave his face and hands with coolwater--
Suddenly his mutterings became intelligible. Janice was heldthere on her knees--absorbed and almost breathless.
"Laura!"
The name was uttered so passionately--so reverently --thatJanice found the tears spring unbidden to her eyes. Daddy hadspoken her dead mother's name in his sleep. Indeed, it seemed asthough he called to the loved one who had gone from them never toreturn.
"Laura!"
"Daddy!" breathed the girl. "It's me, not mamma! I-- I'm allthat's left to you!"
He seemed, even in his sleep, to have heard Janice's murmuredwords.
"All that was left to me," Broxton Day sighed, repeating, asJanice thought, what she had said. Or did he repeat Janice'swords? "Your dear thoughts-- and gone! gone! If I could onlyfind them again. The box--Olga." His mutterings trailed off intounrecognizable delirium. He muttered, and his inflamed facemoved from side to side upon the pillow. He did not know her atall this heartsick, sobbing little daughter!
For Janice could understand at last what went on in his poor,troubled brain. He was dreaming of the packet of letters--theletters that were so precious to Broxton Day. In the secretcompartment of the lost treasure-box. In the fever of the man'sbrain nothing else seemed so important to him as his lost wife'sletters!
Of course, all of Janice Day's school friends did not go awayfrom Greensboro for the summer vacation; or, if they did go awayfor a little visit, they were soon back again.
And when the girls heard that Janice's father had broken his legand that Janice was tied to the house with him, they began tocome to see her, and inquire about daddy, and cheer her up.
None of them realized that, with Mrs. Carringford at the head ofhousekeeping affairs, Janice had not felt so free and cheerfulfor some months as she did at this time.
Daddy soon grew better, and he began to sleep peacefully atnight. The surgeon, Dr. Bowles, who came occasionally, said thebones were knitting all right. Mr. Weeks and Janice even got thepatient up into a wheel chair which had an arrangement that madeit possible for the broken leg to rest stiffly before daddy, andhe could wheel himself out on the front
porch.
There was just the one thing to trouble the girl; that was themystery of the lost treasure-box and the secret sorrow she feltbecause she had been careless with it. Without her carelessness,she told herself, Olga Cedarstrom would never have taken it outof the house --if that was really how the keepsakes had come todisappear.
It was Bertha
Warring who chanced, when she first came to seeJanice after her return from an exciting trip to Chicago, tomention that girl, Olga. At least she spoke of the "Olga" whohad been at the Latham house and had broken Mrs. Lantham's glassdish the night of Stella's party.
"I meant to speak to you about what Stella said, Bertha remarked,"before I went away. But we went in such a hurry. You know,Stella can be awfully mean."
"Why, she's not always nice," admitted Janice whose opinion ofthe farmer's daughter had changed a good deal during the past fewmonths.
"I must say you let Stella down easy when you say that," laughedBertha.
"Oh, she gets mad, and says mean things. But I don't think--"
"Now, stop it, Janice Day!" exclaimed the other girl "You knowvery wall that Stella is just as mean as a girl can be. See howshe spoke of Amy Carringford. And Amy is an awfully nice girl."
"Yes, Amy is nice," admitted Janice, happily.
"Well, now, look here," said Bertha, earnestly. "Stella saidsomething you did not hear once about that Swedish girl."
"Oh, I guess I am not particularly interested in that girl,"Janice said slowly. "My father asked the Johnsons about her.You know that girl was staying with them at the time of theparty. She ran away, I guess, because she was afraid Mrs. Lathamwould make trouble about the broken dish. But the Johnsons saidher name was not Cedarstrom."
"Mercy, what a name!" laughed Bertha. "Just the same, there issomething about that girl that Stella knows, and that she saidyou would give a good deal to know."
"Why, I can't imagine--"
"That's just it," said Bertha, quickly. "It sounded somysterious. I ought to have told you about it there and then.But you know how jumbled up everything was, just the last days ofschool."
"That is so," admitted the puzzled Janice.
"But, you know, Stella and I went away on the same traintogether."
"No! Did you?"
"Yes. She changed cars before we got to Chicago; but she sat inthe chair car with me for a long way. And I pumped her aboutwhat she meant when she spoke the way she did regarding thatSwede."
"Yes?"
"Why, she giggled, and made fun, and wouldn't say anything muchat first. But I hammered at her," said Bertha, "until I got hermad. You know Stella loses her temper and then--well, it's alloff!" and Bertha laughed gaily.
"Oh, Bert!" admonished Janice warmly, "I don't think we ought toget her mad."
"Oh, she'll get glad again," said Bertha carelessly. "Don't worryabout Stella, Miss Fussbudget."
Janice laughed then, herself. She did not mind Bertha Warring'ssharp tongue.
"Well, as I was saying, I got her finally to say something moreabout that Olga. And what do you suppose she did say?"
"I could not guess," said the wondering Janice.
"Why, that it was very true her name was not Cedarstrom now.That is just the way she said it before she got up and flouncedout of the car." "Oh, Bert!" gasped Janice.
"Do you see? I was some minutes catching on to it," Bertha said,rather slangily. "But you see, I guess. That girl had been knownas 'Olga Cedarstrom' at some time or other, you mark my word.And Stella found it out and would not tell you."
"Then she must be married. Of course her name is not Cedarstromnow," murmured Janice.
"Oh! Is that it? I didn't know but she was a real crook," saidBertha, "and had what they call an 'alias.'"
"No-o, I don't believe so. The last daddy learned about her overat Pickletown, some of the Swedish people there thought she musthave gone off to get married. She was going with a young man whoworks in one of the pickle factories. His name is WillieSangreen."
"And what's become of him?" asked the interested Bertha.
"He went away, too."
"They ran off and got married! Of course!" cried theromance-loving Bertha. "And that Stella Latham found it out andwouldn't tell you. Maybe your father-- Oh! but he can't golooking for them now that he has a broken leg, can he?"
"I am afraid not. We'll have to wait. But do you reallysuppose, Bert, that Stella is sure of what she says? Perhaps shedoesn't really know for sure about that Olga."
"Where there's so much smoke there must be some fire," Berthasaid, with a laugh, as Janice walked out to the front gate withher. "I guess Stella knows-- Oh, Janice! Talking about smoke,"cried Bertha suddenly, looking back at the Day house and up atthe roof, "what is all that smoke coming out of your kitchenchimney?"
Her startled friend looked in the direction indicated. Out of thechimney-mouth, and between the bricks, poured a vomit of blacksmoke. Then, as the girls looked, red flames darted out with thesmoke-- spouting four or five feet into the air above the top ofthe chimney.
Janice Day, the Young Homemaker Page 24
