Janice Day, the Young Homemaker Part 17

"The vision of Arlo Weeks, Junior, working really would be worth the price of admission," chuckled Broxton Day.

"That isn't the worst of it--for Arlo," said Janice gaily. "You see, his helping me clean up that back kitchen got him a bad reputation."

"Why, Janice! How was that?"

"Oh, he did the cleaning very well. As well as it could be done.

That soft coal made marks on the walls that never will come off until they are painted again. It's awful s.m.u.tchy--that coal."

"I know," agreed Broxton Day. "But about Arlo?"

"I'm coming to that," she said smiling. "You see, Arlo Junior was just about through when his mother come over looking for him.

She wanted him to go on an errand. She saw what he had been doing for me, for he had an ap.r.o.n on and the broom in his hand."

"Caught with the goods, in other words?" chuckled Mr. Day.

"Yes. And we couldn't tell her why he was helping me. So she said right out:

"'Why, Arlo Junior! If you can help Janice like this-- and you and she were fighting the other day--you can come right home and clean out the woodshed. It needs it.'

"And--and," laughed Janice, "he had to do it. He worked pretty near all day to-day. And he scowled at me dreadfully this afternoon."

"He will be playing other tricks on you," warned her father.

"Well, there will be no Olga to make them worse," she sighed.

"That is one sure thing. Oh, dear, Daddy, I wonder where she is--and the treasure-box! It is too, too hateful for anything!"

"I called up the pickle factory where Willie Sangreen works.

They had heard nothing from him. It looks as though Olga and he must have gone away together. Stole a march on all their friends and got married, maybe."

"But why should she take my treasure-box?" cried Janice. "Oh, Daddy! I can never forgive myself for my carelessness."

"Don't worry, child. You could not really be blamed," he rejoined sadly.

"But that doesn't bring back mother's picture and the other things," murmured the anxious Janice, watching his clouding face.

As always when they were alone, daddy washed the supper dishes and Janice dried them. Daddy with an ap.r.o.n on and his sleeves rolled up, and a paper cap on his head (she made him wear that like a regular "chef"), made a picture that always pleased his daughter.

"I think you would make a very nice cook, Daddy dear? she often told him. "In fact, you seem to fit in almost anywhere. I guess it's because you are always ready to do something."

"Flattery! Flattery!" he returned, pinching her cheek.

"But it is so, you know, Daddy. You always know what to do--and you do it."

"That is what they tell me at the bank," said Mr. Day, with rather a rueful smile. "This Mexican mine business is developing some troubles, and they want me to go down there and straighten them out."

"Oh, Daddy!" she cried breathlessly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "That is what I tell them. I cannot leave you alone."

"But take me!" she cried, almost dancing up and down.

"Can't be thought of, Janice. That is a rough country --and you've got to stick to school, besides. You know, my dear, we had already decided on that."

"Yes, I know," she sighed. "But of course you won't go away and leave me? We--we've never been separated since--since dear mamma died."

"True, my dear. And we will not contemplate such separation. I have told them at the bank it would be impossible." It was not of their own troubles that they talked mostly on this evening, however, but of some other people's troubles. After they were out of the kitchen and settled in the living-room, Janice began to tell him about the Carringfords. "They are just the nicest people you ever saw Daddy. Amy and Gummy are coming over here tomorrow after Sunday School so that you can meet them."

"'Gummy'!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Day.

Janice told him all about that boy's unfortunate name.

"You see," she explained, "Mrs. Carringford told me herself this afternoon that his Uncle John Gumswith was a very nice man."

"Seems to me," said daddy, quite amused, "that doesn't make the boy's name any less unfortunate. And have they never even heard of the uncle since he went to Australia?"

"No, sir."

"Well," chuckled Mr. Day, "Gummy had better go to the Legislature and get his name changed. That's a handicap that no boy should have to shoulder."

"It is awful. And it makes Gummy shy, I think. He wanted to work after school hours and on Sat.u.r.day. But he didn't seem to know how to get a job. So I," Janice proceeded quite in a matter-of-fact way, "got him one."

"You did!"

"Yes, Daddy. I went to Mr. Harriman, the grocer. You know we trade there. And I know that he can use a boy just as well as not. So I told him about Gummy--"

"Did you tell Harriman his name?" chuckled her father.

"I said he was 'G. Carringford,'" Janice replied, her eyes twinkling. "But you needn't laugh. Mr. Harriman did."

"Did what?"

"Laugh; I really wanted Gummy to take a nom de plume, or whatever it is they call 'em."

"An alias, I guess it would be, in Gummy's case," said her father. "And wouldn't he?"

"No," said Janice, shaking her head. "Gummy seems to think that he's in honor bound to stick up for his name. That is what he says."

"Amen! Some boy, that!"

"He's a nice boy," declared Janice. "You'll see. And he got the job."

"Oh, he did! So I see that my Janice is a real 'do something'

girl."

"Why, yes, I hadn't thought of that," she agreed, all smiles at his praise. "I did do something, didn't I? Gummy is going to work for Mr. Harriman, and that'll help them. But it was about Amy and Stella Latham's party I wanted to tell you"

"Oh, was it, indeed?" her father murmured.

She related the circ.u.mstances attached to the coming party and Amy Carringford's reason for not being able to go.