Janice Day, the Young Homemaker Part 42

The excitement had hurt n.o.body, after all. Janice was glad Mrs.

Carringford was not there at the time, or she certainly would have been worried about Gummy.

"You are an awfully smart boy, Gummy," Janice declared, clinging to the boy's hand. "I won't ever make fun of you again when you get mixed up in talking."

Mr. Day overheard this and laughed heartily. He too, shook Gummy cordially by the hand.

"You have a head on you, son," he said. "How came you to think about the salt?"

"I saw a chimney on fire in the country once, and they put it out with salt," the boy replied. "I've got to hurry back to the store and get more salt for the Jones's now. I guess Mr.

Harriman will be mad."

"Oh, no he won't. I'll call him up on the telephone and tell him to put this sack on my account. He won't scold you, I am sure,"

said Mr. Day.

In fact, everybody who heard about the matter praised Gummy Carringford. They began to say "that boy with the funny name is considerable of a boy," and things like that. Mr. Day gave him a little money, although Gummy did not want to take that.

"You treat your little brothers and sisters with it, Janice's father said laughing. "They didn't have the fun of seeing you put out the fire."

"We-ell," said the thoughtful boy, "I'll see what Momsy says about it first."

When Mrs. Carringford returned to the house Mr. Day himself told her of the fire and of what Gummy had done, and how proud she should be of him, too. And Mrs. Carringford was proud--Mr. Day could see that.

"Boys are awfully nice to have around the house, aren't they, Daddy?" Janice said that evening as they sat alone. "I never did think before that I'd care to have a brother. You see, you are just like a brother to me, Daddy."

"I see," said Daddy, chuckling. "When it comes to chimney fires and such excitement, a boy comes in handy, is that it?"

"Why--ye-es, Berta Warring ran away, crying, and I couldn't do much but squeal myself," said Janice gravely.

"And telephone for the Fire Department, and help me out, and aid Gummy to carry up the salt, and--"

"Oh, but, Daddy, those are all such little things!" sighed Janice.

Janice thought things were going pretty well after that. They were so glad to have their house saved from destruction, and so proud of Gummy, that everybody seemed all right. But there was trouble coming, and one afternoon Amy brought it to the Day house.

Amy, in tears, came to see her mother. Janice chanced to be in the kitchen when she entered from the Love Street gate. Amy had in tow a curly-haired dapper little man who looked too oily to be honest, and with little gimlet eyes that seemed to bore right through one.

"Oh, Mother!" gasped Amy, "this--this man's come to take our house away from us!"

"What is this now?" exclaimed Mrs. Carringford, in as much surprise as fear.

"Yes, he has. He said so. He's got papers, and all," sobbed Amy.

"Ahem! the young lady puts it very cra.s.sly indeed," said the curly-haired man. "You, I presume, are Mrs. Josephine Carringford," he went on, reading from a paper.

"Yes."

"I am serving you in the suit of Mrs. Alice G. Blayne, of Croydon, Michigan, my client, to recover a certain parcel of property situated on Mullen Lane and now occupied by you and your family, Mrs. Carringford," said the man glibly, and thrusting a paper into the woman's hand.

"But I bought my home through Mr. Abel Strout, of Napsburg,"

gasped Mrs. Carringford. She did not recognize Jamison, the farm hand, in the transaction at all. She now felt that man was but Abel Strout's tool.

"Oh! As to that, I have nothing to say," said the curly-haired lawyer, smiling in a way Janice did not like at all. "I merely represent my client. The property has been claimed by several people, I believe, and may have been sold a dozen times. That will not invalidate my client's claim."

"But I never even heard of this Mrs, Blayne," murmured Amy's mother.

"A poor widow, ma'am," said the lawyer blandly. "And one who can ill afford to lose her rights. She as heir of old Peter Warburton Blayne who lived in that house where you now reside for a great many years. He died. His heirs were not informed. The place was sold for taxes--for a nominal sum, ma'am. Of course, a tax-deed has no standing in court if the real owner of the property comes forward ready to pay the back taxes, accrued interest, and the fixed court charges."

"But I got a warranty deed!" cried Mrs. Carringford.

"That is a matter between you and the person you say you bought the house of," said the lawyer calmly. "If you consider that you have a case against him you will have to go to court with him.

Ahem! An expensive matter, my dear madam, I a.s.sure you.

Probably the man who sold to you had every reason to believe he had a clear t.i.tle. It has pa.s.sed through several hands since Peter Blayne died, as I say.

"I cannot advise you as to that, ma'am," pursued the lawyer.

"Those papers are in regard to this suit that is already entered against you. Of course, it would be cheaper for you to settle the case out of court; but you will probably want to fight us.

Most women do."

At this point Janice got to her feet and ran out of the room.

She rushed in to where her father was writing on a lapboard across the arms of his chair.

Meanwhile Mrs. Carringford and Amy were clinging together and facing the dapper, voluble, little lawyer in the kitchen. Amy was sobbing excitedly; but her mother said firmly:

"Abel Strout is at the root of this--"

"I a.s.sure you," said the lawyer politely, "my client is Mrs.

Blayne. I have nothing to do with Abel Strout."

"He is at the root of it, nevertheless," said Mrs. Carringford confidently. "I saw it in his eye when he was last in my house.

He means to turn me and my children out, and ruin us!"

CHAPTER XXVI. THE CLOUDS LOWER

Janice was so excited she could scarcely speak intelligibly for a minute. But finally she made her father understand what was going on in the kitchen.

"And he's come to take their house right away from them,"

concluded the girl. "He's given her a paper, and she's got to give him the house--and everything!"

"Oh, no; not so bad as all that," said daddy, soothingly.

"Things aren't done in just that way-- not even by shyster lawyers. This is just a notice of suit he has given her. But you run, Janice, and tell them to come in here. I will hear what this man has to say."

So Janice ran back to the kitchen. She held the door open, and, with rather a commanding air for so young a girl, looking straight at the curly-haired man:

"You and Mrs. Carringford come into the living room. My father wants to see you."

"Hey?" said the man. "Who is this?"