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<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77832 ***</div>
<figure class="figcenter illowp75" style="max-width: 105.375em;">
<img class="wd80" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Original cover">
</figure>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<figure class="figcenter illowp60" id="frontis" style="max-width: 50.0em;">
<img class="w100" src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="Picture of a frightened girl in a crowded store">
<figcaption>
<p class="noindent">JANE’S EYES WERE FIXED WITH A FRIGHTENED LOOK
ON BILLY.</p>
<p class="noindent left">
<i>Plain Jane and Pretty Betty.</i></p>
<p class="rt"><i><a href="#Page_76">Page 76</a></i></p>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter bbox1">
<div class="chapter bbox3">
<div class="chapter bbox4">
<h1 class="center fs300 p2">
Plain Jane and<br>
Pretty Betty<br>
</h1>
<p class="noindent center"><b>OR</b></p>
<p class="noindent center p1b fs150 word-sp"><b>The Girl Who Won Out</b></p>
<p class="noindent center"><b>BY</b></p>
<p class="center fs175 letter-spsmall"><b>MAY HOLLIS BARTON</b></p>
<p class="center noindent smcap fs110 p6b"><b>Author of “The Girl from the Country,” “Nell<br>
Grayson’s Ranching Days,” etc.</b></p>
<p class="center noindent fs125 p6b"><b><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></b></p>
<p class="center fs125"><b>NEW YORK</b></p>
<p class="center fs150"><b>CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY</b></p>
<p class="center p2b fs125"><b>PUBLISHERS</b></p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter bbox1 ">
<p class="noindent center gothic fs175 p1">
Books for Girls</p>
<p class="noindent center">
<span class="smcap fs125">By</span> <span class="fs125">MAY HOLLIS BARTON</span></p>
<p class="noindent center fs90 word-sp bb1 p1b">12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
</p>
<p class="p1 hanging2 p2r" >
THE GIRL FROM THE COUNTRY<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1.0em;">Or Laura Mayford’s City Experiences</span></p>
<p class="hanging2 p2r" >
THREE GIRL CHUMS AT LAUREL HALL<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1.0em;">Or The Mystery of the School by the Lake</span></p>
<p class=" hanging2 p2r">
NELL GRAYSON’S RANCHING DAYS<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1.0em;">Or A City Girl in the Great West</span></p>
<p class="hanging2 p2r">
FOUR LITTLE WOMEN OF ROXBY<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1.0em;">Or The Queer Old Lady Who Lost Her Way</span></p>
<p class="hanging2 p2r">
PLAIN JANE AND PRETTY BETTY<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1.0em;">Or The Girl Who Won Out</span>
</p>
<p class="noindent center p1b bb1">
(<i>Other volumes in preparation.</i>)
</p>
<p class="center smcap">
Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York</p>
</div>
<p class="center noindent smcap p6">Copyright, 1926, by</p>
<p class="center noindent smcap">Cupples & Leon Company</p>
<hr class="short">
<p class="center noindent smcap">Plain Jane and Pretty Betty</p>
<hr class="short">
<p class="center noindent smcap fs75">Made in the U. S. A.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center fs150">
CONTENTS
</p>
</div>
<table class="autotable">
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><span class="fs60 p1r">CHAPTER</span></td>
<td class="tdr"></td>
<td class="tdr"><span class="fs60">PAGE</span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">On the Moving Van</span></td>
<td class="tdr wd40">1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A Bad Spill</span></td>
<td class="tdr">10</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Mad Marion</span></td>
<td class="tdr">19</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The New Home</span></td>
<td class="tdr">24</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Jane Meets Pretty Betty</span></td>
<td class="tdr">32</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Inventions</span></td>
<td class="tdr">39</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The Great Fire</span></td>
<td class="tdr">46</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Beneath the Wreckage</span></td>
<td class="tdr">52</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Disaster</span></td>
<td class="tdr">57</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Suspected</span></td>
<td class="tdr">66</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Billy Answers</span></td>
<td class="tdr">73</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A Generous Thought</span></td>
<td class="tdr">81</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Jane Looks for Work</span></td>
<td class="tdr">89</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A First Refusal</span></td>
<td class="tdr">96</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A Taste of Success</span></td>
<td class="tdr">104</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A Business Day</span></td>
<td class="tdr">112</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Betty Makes Her Choice</span></td>
<td class="tdr">120</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A Dreadful Discovery</span></td>
<td class="tdr">128</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A Change of Employers</span></td>
<td class="tdr">136</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Betty Comes Through</span></td>
<td class="tdr">143</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The New Home</span></td>
<td class="tdr">153</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Betty is Jealous</span></td>
<td class="tdr">159</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII</a>. </td>
<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jane and Billy</span></td>
<td class="tdr">167</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A Surprise</span></td>
<td class="tdr">177</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV</a>.</td>
<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The Revelation</span></td>
<td class="tdr">188</td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p>
<div class="chapter">
<p class= "noindent center fs250"><b>PLAIN JANE AND<br>
PRETTY BETTY</b></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_I">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER I</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">ON THE MOVING VAN</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>“Here’s the moving van now!”</p>
<p>Jane Cross ran into the front room where
Mrs. Powell was sitting patiently on one of the
many roped boxes that was to go with the load.</p>
<p>“It isn’t more than half an hour late, at that,”
Jane added, as Mrs. Powell looked up at her
questioningly.</p>
<p>“Pretty good for a moving van,” said the latter,
with a faint smile. “Especially in Coal Run.
Is it here?”</p>
<p>For answer, Jane pointed to the big van that
had backed its yawning doors close to the broken
boardwalk that led from the road to the Powell
front porch.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell got up with a gesture of weariness
and went out to two burly men who dropped from
the van. Jane followed and remained on the
porch, watching.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p>
<p>Queer thoughts were running through Jane’s
head, jubilant thoughts, almost.</p>
<p>She was leaving Coal Run! That dirty, dreary
little town the population of which consisted to
a great extent of miners with their more or less
dirty and stupid families.</p>
<p>Jane was not at home with these people, with
the boys and girls who attended the dingy schoolhouse
on Cattle Creek. For some reason that she
could not fathom, the crude ways, the uncouth
manners of the inhabitants of the mining town
offended and puzzled her.</p>
<p>Jane had fought against this inherent difference,
this instinctive shrinking. She had been
brought up to believe that pride was sinful. She
believed this, and honestly tried to change herself
since she alone was odd among the children
of Coal Run.</p>
<p>It was hard, though; and Jane Cross had succeeded
but indifferently. If one had asked her
schoolmates, they would have said that she succeeded
not at all, would have given her no credit
for a hard fight.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, they felt her difference and resented
it.</p>
<p>No matter how poor her clothes, Jane was
always neat, her hands and face were scrubbed
to a shining cleanliness, her bobbed brown hair
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span>was brushed sleekly close to her small round head
until it shone.</p>
<p>Though she was not homely, was even nice
looking in a simple unobtrusive way, the school
children of Coal Run had retaliated by calling
her “Plain Jane,” jeering at her and taunting her
in a way that made the sensitive girl’s life
miserable.</p>
<p>There was nothing that she could regret leaving
behind in Coal Run except, perhaps, the little
house where she had lived contentedly with Mrs.
Cross for as long back as she could remember.</p>
<p>The latter had been a widow—this, too, for as
long as Jane could remember. Mr. Cross, a
miner, had been killed in a mine explosion. The
company he had worked for had provided for his
widow during her lifetime and would have continued
to provide for her if she had lived twenty
years longer.</p>
<p>But Mrs. Cross had died quietly one night in
her sleep, and Jane awoke to find herself alone
in the world and—penniless.</p>
<p>Things might have gone very hard for the girl—then
only ten—had it not been for the
prompt friendliness of Mr. and Mrs. Powell.
This plump and kindly couple took the heartbroken
girl into their home, and into their hearts
as well, and from that time on treated her as
though she were their own.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span></p>
<p>Now Jane was sixteen, though looking and
seeming younger by a year or two, and misfortune
had come to Mr. Powell. There was a merger
and a change of officers in the coal company for
which Mr. Powell had worked in their local office
for years, with the result that Jane’s benefactor
presently found himself without a position and
with only a little money in the bank.</p>
<p>It was hard on him, a change like this coming
late in life, and for a time it seemed as though
the blow had paralyzed him. He rallied soon,
emerging from his dazed state to find himself a
position in the thriving town of Greenville, forty
miles from Coal Run.</p>
<p>It was a bookkeeper’s job that did not pay
much that had been offered him, but it was a raft
to cling to until he could look about and find something
better. Mr. Powell accepted the post gratefully
and immediately made preparations for the
removal of Mrs. Powell and Jane to their future
home.</p>
<p>Jane was not sorry to leave Coal Run. Greenville
might prove little better, but at least it would
be a change from the mining town, and youth is
hopeful. Jane would try to be very pleasant and
patient and helpful in Greenville. She would
truly try to make people like her.</p>
<p>The wounds inflicted by the thoughtlessly cruel
children of Coal Run went deeper than even Jane
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span>thought, and, unless quickly healed, promised to
leave scars that might gravely affect her future.</p>
<p>Even now she was shy, shrinking, super-sensitive,
quick to see a slight even where none was
intended. It was good for her that she was leaving
Coal Run before the habit of thinking herself
inferior became a fixed obsession.</p>
<p>Now as she watched the moving-men and
Mrs. Powell from the vantage point of the porch
she was surprised to see Mr. Powell descend
from the truck, his short legs dangling so far
from the ground that he had to jump to reach it.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell was so short and round and comfortable-looking
generally that few suspected him
of possessing the temper of a lean six-footer.
This temper would blaze out at times, blasting
all before it, only to retire <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'as suddenly at is'" id="tn-5">as suddenly as it</ins> had
come, leaving Mr. Powell as bland and round and
smiling as ever. It was a righteous temper however,
and only flashed forth in a righteous cause.
Therefore, people feared it and were wont to
treat its owner with a respect they might not
otherwise have accorded him.</p>
<p>Jane loved him, as indeed she loved both these
kindly people, and would have gone on hands and
knees to serve either one of them.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell was not in a temper now, Jane was
glad to see. In fact, he appeared very much
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>pleased with himself and was on exceedingly
friendly terms with both the burly moving-men.</p>
<p>“You see I came with them, to make sure they
got here before night, Lou,” the girl heard him
call to Mrs. Powell. “And what’s more, I’m going
all the way to Greenville with them, to make
sure of the same thing.”</p>
<p>“What’s to become of Jane and me?” Mrs.
Powell retorted.</p>
<p>“You will go on the train, of course,” returned
her husband. “Unless,” jokingly, “you’d like to
ride on top of the van.”</p>
<p>It was then that Jane had her bold thought.
How she dared put it into words she never afterward
could tell. But in a moment she found
herself running over the broken boards of the
walk toward Mr. Powell.</p>
<p>“Oh!” she cried, “I don’t suppose you really
would let me go with you on the van?”</p>
<p>“Bless us!” cried Mr. Powell, appealing to
the cheerfully grinning moving-men to share the
joke with him. “Jane has taken me seriously.
She really does want to ride on the top of the
van.”</p>
<p>“Not on the top of the van,” Jane wheedled—and
she knew just how to do it, too, with those
she loved. “In the front seat, or in the van, or
on the furniture itself—anywhere, so long as I can
go with you.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p>
<p>“Bless us!” said Mr. Powell again. “The
child’s in earnest. After all,” shaking his head
and looking attentively at the moving-men,
“what’s to prevent?”</p>
<p>“Nothing, sir,” said one of the latter, grinning
broadly. “I can sit up behind with the load and
there’s room for three on the front seat, if the
young lady wants to go along.”</p>
<p>Jane’s eyes began to dance. There was color
in her usually pale face. She looked appealingly
at Mrs. Powell.</p>
<p>“Do you mind?” she asked. “Will it be very
lonesome for you, going up without me on the
train?”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell smiled reassuringly.</p>
<p>“I am so tired that I shall probably sleep all
the way to Greenville, anyway,” she said. “If it
will be any pleasure to you, go along on the truck,
my dear child, by all means!”</p>
<p>So it was settled, and Jane waited impatiently
while the furniture was piled on the truck and
securely fastened in at the back with ropes.</p>
<p>This took only a short time, for the possessions
of the Powells were limited, and Jane was soon
standing beside the truck, her hat and coat on,
waiting for one of the men to hand her to the
high seat.</p>
<p>While she stood there, her eyes happened to
turn up the road.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p>
<p>She became suddenly white and grasped at the
arm of the man nearest her.</p>
<p>“Oh, please!” she gasped. “Can’t we get away
from here? Oh, I must get away from here, in
a hurry!”</p>
<p>Alarmed by her look and manner, the good-hearted
fellow half lifted Jane to the high seat
and swung himself up after her.</p>
<p>“All set, Bill!” he called to his mate. “Mr.
Powell, ready?”</p>
<p>At the words Mr. Powell himself appeared at
the side of the truck and swung himself up into
the seat beside Jane. The girl huddled down between
the two men, her eyes fixed steadily on
the road ahead of her.</p>
<p>As the engine of the truck turned over with a
grumbling roar the sound of children’s shrill
voices raised tauntingly came from the road behind
them.</p>
<p>“Plain Jane! Plain Jane! Had to ride in the
van! Couldn’t ride in the train! Plain Jane!
Plain Jane!”</p>
<p>Long after the voices had been drowned by distance
and by the roaring of the motor they rang
in Jane’s ears, filled her eyes with tears and her
heart with an aching pain.</p>
<p>Oh, she was glad to leave Coal Run! Glad!
Glad!</p>
<p>After a while the cool air on her face and Mr.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>Powell’s gently tactful and very funny conversation
soothed her and brought a faint smile to her
lips.</p>
<p>After all, she was a very lucky girl to have such
dear, kind friends as the Powells. And she was
leaving Coal Run! Greenville could not be
worse. It might be much, much better.</p>
<p>A half-hour passed. Coal Run was left far
behind when a sudden lurch of the truck caused
her to grip the seat with both hands. The driver
was taking a sharp curve on a rough, hilly road
at a perilous rate of speed, Jane thought. She
wished he would not be quite so daring.</p>
<p>Then came a noise like the exploding of a
cannon in her ears.</p>
<p>Jane cried out in terror as the truck lurched,
then skidded sickeningly across the road.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_II">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER II</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A BAD SPILL</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>If the tree had not been directly in the way
a serious accident might have been avoided.</p>
<p>But the tree was in the way. The driver
wrenched at his wheel in an effort to right the
van and regain the road.</p>
<p>No use!</p>
<p>With a terrific impact van and tree came together,
and Jane was hurled from her seat. For an
instant that seemed an eternity she felt herself
flying through the air, then came with a crash and
a crackle of broken twigs into a mass of bushes
fifteen feet from the road.</p>
<p>She lay there dazed for a moment, the breath
knocked out of her body. She was almost afraid
to try to move, for fear she would find she could
not do so.</p>
<p>It had been an accident, a pretty bad accident.
She ought, by all rights, she thought, to have been
killed!</p>
<p>It was consideration for Mr. Powell and what
might have happened to him that made her decide
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>to get up. This, she found, was by no means
an easy matter!</p>
<p>She seemed to be lying on a bed of thistles, and
her slightest gesture dug a sharp point deeper
into her shrinking flesh. She was becoming increasingly
conscious that her body was all one
dull ache. Her nerves were jumping, and she had
an absurd desire to cry.</p>
<p>Some one was breaking through the bushes behind
her.</p>
<p>They were not all dead then! Some one had
survived!</p>
<p>That some one was lifting her up from her uncomfortable
couch, some one who chuckled softly.</p>
<p>“Well, we’re all alive, anyway,” said the author
of the chuckle as he set Jane gently on her feet.
“And, judgin’ from the sounds back there, some
of us are kickin’, too!”</p>
<p>Jane saw nothing to laugh about, or even
chuckle over. She was sore all over and her legs
wabbled painfully. The thought came to her that
perhaps moving-men were used to knocking trees
over with their moving vans, and so did not take
such incidents as seriously as more ordinary
people.</p>
<p>“Is—is—Mr. Powell—all right?” Jane asked
tremulously. Her lips would quiver.</p>
<p>“Yes, Miss. Hale and hearty as ever and in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>full possession of his lungs, as you’ll hear if you
listen quiet for a minute.”</p>
<p>Jane listened, and was inclined to believe that
the moving-man was right. Mr. Powell was evidently
in one of his towering rages and was giving
the unfortunate driver of the truck full benefit
of it.</p>
<p>Shakily, with the arm of the moving-man
through hers, Jane made her way back to the
road.</p>
<p>She was not badly hurt. In fact, it seemed a
miracle to her that none of them was badly hurt.
Except for a good many bruises, a severe shaking
up, and the shock, they seemed as good as ever!</p>
<p>The furniture appeared to have got the worst
of it. Not new to start with and showing an
irritating tendency to fall apart even before they
had been loaded into the van, several of the chairs
and other articles of furniture belonging to the
Powells had been rather severely damaged.</p>
<p>It was this fact that Mr. Powell was pointing
out to a bruised and sheepish moving-man when
Jane and her rescuer reappeared on the road.</p>
<p>“But I couldn’t help it if a tire burst,” the man
pointed out, not unreasonably. “That’s likely to
happen to any one. We was on a hill and I
couldn’t keep the blamed thing from skiddin’.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that may be all very well! But why were
going so fast on the hill?” cried Mr. Powell, his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>point not unreasonable either. “I thought you
were going too fast and, if you will remember,
I said so several times.”</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t have made no difference,” the man
persisted doggedly. “When a tire busts a truck
skids, and the heavier the truck the worse the
skid.”</p>
<p>“Then do you mean to tell me,” Mr. Powell
rose on tiptoes and fairly towered in his wrath
over the taller man, “that you and your company
don’t hold yourself responsible for my broken
furniture? Do you mean to tell me that because
a tire is likely to burst and cause an accident, I
will have to pay for the damages that result from
that accident? Do you mean to tell me——”</p>
<p>“I ain’t meanin’ to tell you anything!” the moving-man
interrupted belligerently. He was evidently
a good-tempered, easy-going fellow, but
almost any one will lose his natural good temper
if a wrathful finger is shaken long enough beneath
his nose. “It ain’t my business to tell you anything!
<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'It you’ve got to'" id="tn-13">If you’ve got to</ins> fight any one, go fight
the company. I ain’t got nothing to say about it!
Anyway——”</p>
<p>“No, but if I have anything to say about it,
you’ll lose your job!” cried Mr. Powell, his anger
whetted by opposition. “When I do put in a
complaint to your company, I’ll tell them——”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span></p>
<p>“What will you tell ’em?” growled the moving-man,
and moved a little closer.</p>
<p>Here Jane thought it was time for her to take
a hand in the discussion. This she did literally,
taking Mr. Powell’s hand that was doubled into a
belligerent fist and <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'clinging to its'" id="tn-14a">clinging to it</ins> resolutely.</p>
<p>“Please don’t, Uncle Dink,” she begged. Mr.
Powell’s first name was Dickinson, but <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'every one called his'" id="tn-14b">every one
called him</ins> “Dink” and it seemed, somehow, to fit
him.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell tried to take his hand away, but
Jane still clung to it.</p>
<p>“I’m sure he didn’t mean it, Uncle Dink——”</p>
<p>“Who said he meant it?” Mr. Powell pretended
to growl at the girl, but he was weakening.
Jane followed up her advantage.</p>
<p>“It was an accident, Uncle Dink. I’m sure the
company will make good on any damage——”</p>
<p>“Sure, it will,” broke in the moving-man, for he
was a peaceable fellow when given half a chance.
“It don’t want no dissatisfied customers, and it’ll
make good on all the damage. Although lot of
the makin’ good will come out of my pocket,”
he added ruefully.</p>
<p>“And serve you right!” snapped Mr. Powell,
still irate, though softened. “Now if you’ll get
busy and try to make up for lost time I’ll be
obliged to you. We’ve a long way to go and I’d
like to reach there before dark.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p>
<p>“So would I,” growled the driver, with a doubtful
glance at the van. “The question right now is—will
the old bus run?”</p>
<p>In the next few minutes that proved to be a
very pertinent question indeed! Something had
been done to the engine of the “old bus” that
made it very doubtful if it would ever run again.</p>
<p>As the two men several times declared in the
exasperating hour that followed, they had been
employed to move furniture, not to repair engines.</p>
<p>“You’ve been employed to get me to Greenville
this afternoon,” said Mr. Powell irascibly.
“How are you going to do it?”</p>
<p>The <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'driver glared as'" id="tn-15">driver glared at</ins> the smaller man.</p>
<p>“If you could tell us that, you might save us a
lot of trouble,” he grumbled. “And now if you
want to get to Greenville at all, you’d better stop
talking.”</p>
<p>Again Jane acted the part of peacemaker.</p>
<p>“If we could get some horses to tow us,” she
suggested, “maybe we could find some place where
we could get help.”</p>
<p>“There ain’t no sech animal, Miss,” the second
man assured her gloomily. “As for horses, it
would take about six to tow this load. And where
are we going to get ’em?”</p>
<p>Another question, and still unanswerable.</p>
<p>It seemed to Jane as time passed and the driver
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>still tinkered vainly with his engine that they
might spend the night in that lonely place.</p>
<p>Once one of the men suggested that the two
passengers might walk on to the railway station.
It was only about a mile-and-a-half away, he said,
and Mr. Powell and the young girl could go on to
Greenville, leaving them to follow with the disabled
van, as soon as they could.</p>
<p>This suggestion Mr. Powell would not listen
to for a moment.</p>
<p>“I’ll stick with the furniture,” he said.
“Though you can go, Jane, if you like. I’ll take
you to the station.”</p>
<p>But Jane was game and decided to stick, too.</p>
<p>It was about an hour after that that the engine
gave a few puffs and then turned over once or
twice. This was at least more encouraging than
dead silence, and Jane began to view the efforts
of the moving-men with more hopefulness.</p>
<p>They finally managed to get the motor to running
haltingly. Then the damaged tire was replaced
by a spare, and everybody climbed hastily
aboard, determined to make the best of their luck
while it lasted.</p>
<p>It was a never-to-be-forgotten trip. The van
stopped every quarter of a mile or so, and every
time it stopped Jane held her breath for fear it
would never start on again.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell did not hold his breath—nor his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>tongue. If Jane had not been there to act as
peacemaker, it is quite certain that “Uncle Dink”
and the driver of the truck would have come to
blows at some point along the road to Greenville.</p>
<p>When they finally reached the fringe of the
town it was well after dark. Jane was tired and
ravenously hungry. Also she was disappointed
that her first acquaintance with their adopted town
could not have been made by daylight.</p>
<p>“If Lou has reached here before us I hope she
had sense enough to go to an inn or a hotel, or
at least to a neighbor’s house,” said Mr. Powell,
voicing a thought that had been worrying Jane
for some time. “Kind of dreary going to an
empty house and waiting and having no one come.
I suppose,” with a worried frown, “she’s had us
killed some dozen times already!”</p>
<p>They—or rather the van—limped through the
streets of Greenville and finally stopped in a street
devoid of lights.</p>
<p>“Here we are, boss,” said the driver, flashing
his electric torch on an empty, dreary-looking
little house set well back from the street. “This
is the address you gave me. Guess you might
say we’re here!”</p>
<p>“And small thanks to you,” Mr. Powell would
have added had not a gentle squeeze of Jane’s
hand reminded him that it was foolish to irritate
the fellow needlessly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p>
<p>“Well, we’re lucky to get here at all—with
whole necks, anyway,” he said, descending with
difficulty.</p>
<p>Jane tried to stand, and gave an involuntary cry
of pain.</p>
<p>“I can’t find my feet,” she explained when
Mr. Powell came around to help her to the
ground. “They’re asleep, I guess.”</p>
<p>“As the rest of you should have been long ago,”
grumbled Mr. Powell.</p>
<p>In spite of his own sore stiff muscles, he half-lifted
Jane down from the high seat and set her
gently on her feet.</p>
<p>“If you’ll make a light in the house, we’ll unload
your stuff,” suggested one of the men.</p>
<p>“I’m going to see where my wife is first,”
said Mr. Powell in a worried tone. “She couldn’t
have got here or she would have had a light going
herself.”</p>
<p>He started up the walk toward the dark house
when suddenly Jane caught at his sleeve. A broad
band of yellow light streamed from the open door
of the house next door.</p>
<p>“Look, Uncle Dink,” cried Jane. “Some one
is calling to us!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_III">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER III</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">MAD MARION</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Some one was certainly calling to the new arrivals.
And that some one proved, to their delighted
surprise, to be none other than Mrs.
Powell herself!</p>
<p>The latter came halfway to meet them as they
hurried across the lawn toward the band of yellow
light.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m so relieved!” cried Mrs. Powell, as
she hugged Jane and threw her arms about her
husband’s neck. “I have the key to the house
right here, Dink, if you want to let the moving-men
in. The people next door have been just
lovely to me! You’d never guess how nice they’ve
been! But why, why have you been so long on
the road?”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you everything, my dear,” Mr. Powell
promised, “as soon as I get these men started to
unloading the stuff. I suppose they are hungry
and tired as well as we,” he added in a kinder
voice than he had used during that whole wearisome,
exasperating journey.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p>
<p>“Well, they must come in and get something to
eat, too. No—no refusals. I won’t take any.
I positively insist!”</p>
<p>No one had noticed the approach of a light
bobbing and blinking in the hand of some one
from the house next door.</p>
<p>Now every one turned, startled, to see an odd
little person winking and smiling in the fitful light
of the lantern.</p>
<p>“This is our very kind neighbor,” said Mrs.
Powell, referring to the little old lady. “You’ve
no idea how kind she is.”</p>
<p>“Not kind—only thoughtful once in a while,”
said the queer person, with an odd simpering
laugh. “Here’s a light!” thrusting it abruptly at
Mr. Powell. “Hard to find one in a dark house
at this time of night. Might help to have a
light!”</p>
<p>Mr. Powell was frankly staring at this odd
apparition. His wife brought him to his senses
with a sharp dig of her elbow in his ribs.</p>
<p>“Take the light,” she ordered in a whisper
for his ear alone. “Poor thing’s a little touched
in the head. Can’t you do anything but stand
there staring like a wooden soldier?”</p>
<p>Mr. Powell took the light with a stammered
thanks and went into the empty house with the
moving-men, who had told the queer woman that
they would be expected in their own homes and,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>as much as they would like to, could not eat with
her.</p>
<p>This new abode in Greenville had been rented
by the Powells, “sight unseen.” Martin and Hull,
wholesale grain dealers with whom Mr. Powell
had secured his position as bookkeeper through
the kindly intercession of a mutual friend, had
suggested that they be allowed to procure quarters
for their new employee; some house within
walking distance of the company’s storehouses
and one that could be procured at a modest
rental.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell had been glad to accept this suggestion,
and the result was this little house on a
side street of the town of Greenville.</p>
<p>It would not look so dismal by daylight. They
all knew that, and as the moving-men began to
growl about the difficulty of unloading furniture
at night, Mrs. Powell had a suggestion to make.</p>
<p>“Why not wait until morning to unload?” she
said. “It will be so much easier then.”</p>
<p>It was not hard to come to terms on this, since
all were tired and disgruntled and badly in need
of food.</p>
<p>“If you will tell us of some hotel or boarding
house in town where we can put up for the night
we will be very much obliged,” said Mr. Powell
to the odd little person from next door (the
moving-men had already departed gladly toward
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>the center of town and a hot dinner). “We can’t
very well sleep without beds and we are badly in
need of refreshment.”</p>
<p>“And you can have both by coming next door,”
said the queer person, bobbing and smiling.
“Dinner is hot on the stove. I believe you can
smell it from here. As for beds,” with another
bob and another smile, “we have plenty of beds,
a great many beds. Yes, indeed, plenty.”</p>
<p>Still mumbling a little to herself and bobbing
and smiling, she preceded them over the small
patch of lawn toward the light that streamed from
the still-open door.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell hesitated and glanced sharply at
his wife. Even Jane hung back a little.</p>
<p>“It’s all right,” Mrs. Powell explained in a
quick, hurried whisper. “She has a nice sister.
The sister told me all about this poor thing. She
is really as harmless as a kitten and never happy
unless she is doing something for somebody.
Come along, do! Don’t hold back or you’ll hurt
her feelings!”</p>
<p>Mr. Powell no longer held back, though it
was evident he was unconvinced. With a great
deal of curiosity Jane accompanied her two kind
friends to the open door of the house next door.</p>
<p>“Mad Marion,” for so the poor, afflicted little
woman was known to the people of Greenville,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>waved them gleefully into a warm brightly lighted
room.</p>
<p>It was a large room, and seemed to combine
sitting room, dining room, and kitchen. It ran
along the front of a house that was as queer as
the sisters who lived in it.</p>
<p>Afterward Jane was to learn that, back of
this kitchen-dining-room-living-room were a series
of some five or six rooms strung out in a row and
connected by doors and tiny, odd flights of stairs
that seemed to have no use or purpose other than
to provide stumbling blocks for the unwary
visitor.</p>
<p>At the moment, sight of that one large room
was enough for the bruised and weary travelers.</p>
<p>A large table in the center of the room was
neatly set for two. A woman bent over a stove,
stirring a savory mixture in a large pot.</p>
<p>At the sound of movement in the doorway the
latter turned.</p>
<p>“Bring them in, Marion,” she said in a harsh,
strident voice that made Jane jump. “What are
you waiting for?”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_IV">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER IV</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">THE NEW HOME</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>The sisters were certainly the oddest pair that
Jane had ever seen—these two who were to be
their near neighbors while Jane and the Powells
lived in Greenville.</p>
<p>Lydia, the elder of the two, was as different
from her poor half-demented sister as it was possible
for any one to be.</p>
<p>Lydia was tall, built on heroic lines with a
breadth of shoulder amazing in a woman. She
had a face that matched the rest of her, large
featured, rugged, with a mouth that seldom
smiled. When Lydia Terrin did smile, Jane was
reminded of a sunbeam shining for a transient
moment on a slab of jagged granite. The smile
never lighted up her features, but lingered for a
moment and then vanished, leaving one to wonder
if she had really smiled at all.</p>
<p>Such was the woman who faced the weary
travelers now over a pot of savory beef stew.</p>
<p>She did not smile. Her manner was almost
forbidding. But the gesture of her long wooden
spoon toward the table was unmistakable.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p>
<p>“Sit down,” she said. “We have been waiting
for you as one pig waits for another. I hope
you will like the stew, though it is not as good as
the pot we made last week. Do you think so,
Marion?”</p>
<p>“Mad Marion,” who had been pulling out the
chairs of her guests, bowing and smiling all the
time in a truly remarkable manner, started at
the abrupt question. She looked bewildered, Jane
thought, and a little frightened.</p>
<p>“Certainly, my dear! I mean certainly not!”
cried the poor creature. “Oh dear, I’m not sure
what I mean!”</p>
<p>“Don’t act so silly,” retorted sister Lydia
sternly. “The trouble with you, Marion, is that
you talk too much!”</p>
<p>Jane had an hysterical desire to giggle. She
checked the desire since to have laughed at that
moment would have been neither polite nor kind.</p>
<p>As she sank into a chair and allowed the “granite
sister,” as she ever afterward called Lydia
Terrin in her thoughts, fill a great plate with the
steaming savory stew, Jane felt like Alice in her
famous adventures in Wonderland.</p>
<p>“The poor little crazy sister could be the Mad
Hatter,” she thought, as she accepted and buttered
a slice of delicious bread. “And the other—well
I don’t know who she’d be unless it was the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span>Duchess who had a baby that turned into a pig.
Oh, dear, maybe I’m crazy too!”</p>
<p>However, no eccentricities of the Terrin sisters
could make that meal any other than a delicious,
wonderfully satisfactory one.</p>
<p>“Guess I had better go to bed, if you’ll show
me where I am to sleep,” Jane said, almost as
soon as the meal was over and struggling to keep
her heavy eyes open, and in a few minutes more
was ushered to a room.</p>
<p>It did not take her long to undress, and then
she slipped in between the caressing sheets of a
bed as soft as the fleeciest cloud and breathed a
deep sigh of utter weariness.</p>
<p>Then came morning, with a hot sun streaming
in at her windows.</p>
<p>Jane’s first impulse was to jump up quickly and
dress. She would be late for school!</p>
<p>Then came the swift realization that there
would be no school this morning. They had left
Coal Run, its dirt and confusion and misery behind
them. This was Greenville, and though it
might not be better than the mining town, it might
be kinder.</p>
<p>She winced at the memory of her departure
from Coal Run—of the children running down
the road and calling after her tauntingly.</p>
<p>There was a stir in the room. Jane turned
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span>over quickly and saw poor Marion bobbing and
smiling in the doorway.</p>
<p>“Breakfast’s ready. Oh, dear, yes! Been
ready for some time.”</p>
<p>Jane jumped up, confused and sorry. She
winced at the sudden action and felt tentatively
her stiff muscles. She had forgotten the accident
of yesterday and that she must expect to be
lame and sore for some time to come.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sorry to have been so lazy,” she
apologized, as the little woman continued to bob
and smile in the doorway. “What must you think
of me, coming here and sleeping so late?”</p>
<p>“Perfectly all right, my dear—perfectly. Tired
out after yesterday. Yes, yes! Natural! Youth
must be served!”</p>
<p>“Marion!” cried Lydia sternly from the
kitchen. “Come out here! You talk too much!”</p>
<p>Poor Marion disappearing on the instant, Jane
looked with wonder about the bare little room
with its comfortable bed.</p>
<p>Who were these queer, eccentric women who
kept house all alone, who seemed, by the furnishings
of their house and the clothes they wore, to
be very poor, and yet who were so hospitable to
strangers?</p>
<p>She pondered the question as she dressed slowly
and painfully.</p>
<p>There were purple bruises all over her and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span>every joint and muscle protested as she moved.</p>
<p>“I’d better rub something on me or I won’t
be of any use at all,” she thought ruefully.</p>
<p>In a few moments she had done all she could
toward making herself presentable. Her clothes
were torn from the accident of the previous day,
and though she wore a comb in her sleek bobbed
hair, there was no brush to smooth it to its usual
plain neatness.</p>
<p>She felt uncomfortable and unlike her usual
clean, neat self when she entered the large cozy
front room of the Terrin sisters.</p>
<p>A delicious, plentiful breakfast served from the
stove by Lydia helped to raise her spirits, and her
heart warmed more than ever toward these two
hospitable people.</p>
<p>Mr. and Mrs. Powell had breakfasted long before,
Lydia told Jane, while Marion nodded and
beamed at her from a chair across the table.</p>
<p>Jane could see from the window that the moving-men
had returned and were unloading the
furniture. Instantly she was impatient to be off
and help Mrs. Powell with the hundred and one
tasks she knew confronted her.</p>
<p>She finished a cup of hot chocolate and her second
egg in hurried, grateful gulps, then pushed
back her chair.</p>
<p>“You’ve both been awfully good,” she said,
looking from Marion to her sister. “When we
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>get settled you must come over and have dinner
with us. I must run and help Mrs. Powell now.”</p>
<p>When she was gone both eccentric sisters stared
after her for a moment.</p>
<p>“Old-fashioned little thing,” said Lydia, as she
jerked a plate from the table and set it in the
sink. “Plain but capable. I’ll bet my life she’s
capable.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, by all means, very. Surely,” murmured
Marion. She was muttering on vaguely
when a stern glance from her sister sent her into
deep confusion.</p>
<p>“You talk too much, Marion,” said Lydia.
“Come, help me with the dishes.”</p>
<p>Next door at the house that had seemed so
dreary the night before Jane found everything
bustle and confusion and—sunshine. As she went
from room to room Jane’s heart warmed to this
sunniness, for there was scarcely a spot in the
little house that did not receive a share of it.
She wondered how she could ever have thought
it dreary!</p>
<p>When she asked harassed, dust-grimed Mrs.
Powell to set her to work, that lady confronted
her with a list of things she needed from the general
store.</p>
<p>“You will help me more by doing the shopping
than in any other way, Jane. Why,” with a
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>dramatic gesture of the hand, “I haven’t a thing
to clean with, even.”</p>
<p>Jane smiled, for this indeed was tragedy to
Mrs. Powell. She took the list and pledged herself
to secure the articles on it. One of the moving
men, a resident of Greenville, took it upon
himself to direct her to “the best store in town.”</p>
<p>“You go down two short blocks,” he said,
indicating the direction with the wave of a dirty,
stubby forefinger. “Then you turn to your left
and go up two long blocks until you come to the
foot of Rose Hill, where all the swells live.
There you’ll find Mason’s general store and you
can get everything at Mason’s from canned soup
to fish hooks.”</p>
<p>Jane thanked him and set out, glad to be free
of the noise and confusion for a little while and
have a look at the town from which she hoped so
much.</p>
<p>Nor did Greenville disappoint her. It was as
different from Coal Run as night is from day.
Where in Coal Run were squalor, dirt, disorder;
here was neatness, cleanliness, beauty. Greenville
was a thriving town, and showed it. Its
inhabitants shared in the general prosperity, and
showed that too. The plainest little house was
freshly painted and displayed its patch of carefully
tended garden.</p>
<p>There was a poorer section in Greenville over
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span>beyond the railroad tracks, but Jane did not know
this until some time later.</p>
<p>As she proceeded toward the center of town
the girl’s delight grew. Here the houses became
more pretentious until, at the foot of Rose Hill
Jane could look up at handsome houses that
seemed palatial to the dazzled eyes of the girl
from Coal Run.</p>
<p>There was a store at hand, and a sign proclaimed
it as Mason’s. This was the store,
thought Jane, where one could get everything
from “canned soup to fish hooks.”</p>
<p>Jane <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'suddenly remembed'" id="tn-31">suddenly remembered</ins> her torn dress, her
dusty shoes, her unbrushed hair. Mason’s was
so immaculate that she hated to enter it as she
was. Still, Mrs. Powell needed those things——</p>
<p>She marched resolutely to the door of the store
and pulled it open. There was a gasp and a protest
in a high, petulant, very pretty feminine voice.</p>
<p>“Oh, how stupid! You have made me drop my
package!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_V">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER V</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">JANE MEETS PRETTY BETTY</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>The owner of the petulant voice was the most
beautiful being Jane had ever seen; she was quite
sure of that.</p>
<p>This was a girl of about her own age, perhaps
a little older. It was hard for Jane to judge,
dazzled as she was by the magnificence of the girl.</p>
<p>The latter was dressed in sheer, rose-colored
organdy that set off the heavenly blue of her eyes
and made them appear a deep violet. She wore
white shoes and stockings and no hat whatever
on her head. Her hair was thick and curling and
the color of imprisoned sunshine.</p>
<p>Jane had never seen anything so lovely as this
girl, and for a moment she could only stand in
helpless admiration.</p>
<p>But the eyes of the pretty girl did not return
this admiration. Oh, dear, no! They stared
angrily at Jane and the pretty lips were caught
for a moment in a very unlovely droop.</p>
<p>“Stupid!” the girl muttered again angrily.</p>
<p>Jane saw what she had done. In opening the
store door so abruptly she had evidently jerked
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span>the door knob from the hand of the girl in the
pretty frock, causing her to drop her bundle.</p>
<p>With a murmured apology, Jane stooped now,
picked up the package, and handed it to the other
girl.</p>
<p>“I’m awfully sorry,” she said. “I did not know
you were just coming out.”</p>
<p>The pretty fair-haired girl accepted the package
without comment. She seemed to think the
service unworthy even of a “thank you,” and
without another word stepped daintily from the
store and out into the sunshine, leaving Jane to
stare after her with a hurt, questioning look on
her face.</p>
<p>“I would at least have said ‘thank you,’” she
thought. “If people are going to be as unkind to
me here in Greenville as they were in Coal Run,
then I—I—don’t know what I shall do!”</p>
<p>The hurt, miserable tears of angry humiliation
were in her eyes as she turned back into the store.</p>
<p>It happened that Billy Dobson was behind the
counter at that moment and it happened also that
Billy Dobson had witnessed the encounter between
the two girls. He was sorry for the plain,
poor girl, and his humorous eyes proclaimed his
sympathy.</p>
<p>“Polite, wasn’t she?” he commented as Jane
slowly approached the counter. “But then, if you
live in Greenville long you’ll find that the Rose
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span>Hillites don’t think they need politeness like
common folks.”</p>
<p>“Rose Hillites?” repeated Jane, as she spread
Mrs. Powell’s long list out on the counter.</p>
<p>“Folks that live on Rose Hill—swell folks,”
Billy elucidated as he cast an experienced eye over
the list. “They have plenty of money and put on
a lot of dog and don’t notice folks that haven’t
a French car and a tiled bathroom—or six or eight
of ’em! Let’s see, you want five bars of laundry
soap——”</p>
<p>There was no one else in the store, and Jane’s
mind was still filled with the vision of the beautiful
girl with sulky eyes who had not thought it
worth her while to be polite to one less fortunate
than herself. She could not resist the temptation
to question this good-looking, amiable young man
who offered her sympathy and seemed to share
her resentment.</p>
<p>“Does she,” with a little jerk of her head toward
the door, “live on Rose Hill?”</p>
<p>“Betty Browning? I’ll say she does! The
Brownings are the swellest of the swell. They
have the biggest house, the biggest car, and the
worst manners. That goes for Miss Betty and
her mother. The old man’s all right, though.
A pretty good sport.”</p>
<p>“The old man?” Jane prompted.</p>
<p>Billy had made a neat pile of the articles on
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>Mrs. Powell’s order. Now he wrapped them in
a piece of stout paper and bound them about with
twine, skilfully inserting a handle in the top of
the bundle.</p>
<p>“By the old man I mean Mr. Browning.” Billy
grinned good-naturedly at her. “He’s all right,
nice to everybody in town. I bet if he’d seen Betty
hand you that haughty stare this morning he’d
have wanted to spank her. He wouldn’t have
done it, though,” he added, with a chuckle. “Miss
Betty and her mother have pretty much everything
to say in their house, I shouldn’t wonder!
Say, now, this bundle’s pretty heavy,” he added,
as Jane lifted the package from the counter and
her young shoulder sagged under the weight of
it. “If there was any one else in the store I’d
walk home with you and carry it.”</p>
<p>Jane smiled and shook her head.</p>
<p>“That’s nice of you,” she said. “But I don’t
live far and—and I’m used to heavy bundles.”</p>
<p>Despite the attempted lightness of her tone
there was a quaver in her voice as she said this
that made good-natured Billy Dobson spring to
the door and hold it open for her.</p>
<p>“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” he asked,
as she smiled her thanks.</p>
<p>“Yes,” returned Jane. “We just came last
night.”</p>
<p>“Hope to see you again, then,” said Billy, with
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>his cheerful grin. “Deal at Mason’s. Best store
in town. We carry a full line of merchandise and
will cheerfully refund money on all articles not
meeting with your entire, complete, and unqualified
approval!”</p>
<p>“Sounds good,” admitted Jane, smiling at his
nonsense. “I’ll be back—probably this afternoon.”</p>
<p>But once away from Mason’s and Billy Dobson’s
cheerful smile, Jane’s spirits drooped. The
first person she had met in Greenville—excepting
her eccentric next door neighbors, of course—had
treated her with disdain, as some one not
even important enough to merit ordinary politeness.</p>
<p>What was it about her that made people treat
her so? she wondered. Was it her plain clothes
or her plain face or something, perhaps, inherently
lacking in her make-up?</p>
<p>Jane longed for a chance to make something
of herself, to prove to disdainful, pretty Betty
Browning that even Plain Jane Cross was worth
a little notice!</p>
<p>“I have a fine chance of that,” Jane thought,
laughing bitterly at herself. “I suppose if I live
in Greenville all the rest of my life Betty Browning
will not even know that I am here!”</p>
<p>Having arrived at the little house where everything
was still in an appalling state of confusion,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>Jane tried to forget the unpleasant incident of
the morning by throwing herself with feverish
energy into the work of getting settled.</p>
<p>They really did accomplish wonders, and as
the shadows of the long afternoon began to
lengthen into dusk, Mrs. Powell was able to announce
that “by this time to-morrow afternoon
we’ll be able to live in the place, anyway.”</p>
<p>They had found in unloading the furniture that
fewer objects had been damaged by the smash the
day before than they had feared. A rocker was
off one chair, the whole side of another was
staved in, and some of the smaller pieces of furniture
were rather severely scratched. But aside
from that the damage was negligible.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell, recovering his good temper, had
told the moving-men before he started for his
new place of business that morning that he would
say nothing concerning the accident. Such a
complaint might lose the men their jobs, whereas
he himself would be able to repair the damage
done to the furniture.</p>
<p>This was a relief to all concerned and to Jane
in particular. She had liked the good-natured
driver of the moving van and the man who had
picked her out of the bushes after the accident,
and was reluctant to see them punished for what
really might have happened to any one.</p>
<p>At noontime Marion came bobbing and smiling
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>in, carrying a tray heaped with sandwiches.
She set this down on a table and vanished to return
almost immediately with a teapot and three
cups.</p>
<p>Jane hugged the poor little woman, for she
was becoming very fond of these kindly, eccentric
next-door neighbors, and she and Mrs. Powell
sat down gratefully to the appetizing lunch, not
waiting for Mr. Powell, who came in later.</p>
<p>“There are kind people in Greenville,” Jane
thought, as she tried valiantly to banish the unpleasant
memory of the morning. “There are
these neighbors; there is the pleasant clerk behind
the counter at Mason’s!”</p>
<p>And yet—there was Betty Browning, pretty
Betty Browning who had not noticed plain Jane
Cross except to call her stupid!</p>
<p>“I’m not stupid!” thought Jane, in a sudden
rush of hot anger. “And some day I’ll show
Betty Browning that I’m not, that I’m worth
knowing and speaking to politely, even if I am
‘plain Jane.’”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_VI">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER VI</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">INVENTIONS</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>The settling down in Greenville of the Powell
family, lately of Coal Run, was very easy and
pleasant.</p>
<p>The little house on the side street was as cozy
and comfortable as Mrs. Powell’s energy and
Jane’s helpful hands could make it.</p>
<p>There were only five rooms, but these were
sufficient for the needs of the small family.</p>
<p>The front room was small, but once dressed
with Mrs. Powell’s mission furniture, red tablecover,
cushions and rugs, with immaculate muslin
curtains covering no less immaculate windows, the
room was very homelike and pleasant.</p>
<p>Back of the sitting room was the dining room.
Though the furniture in it was more or less rickety—containing
the staved-in chair and the one-rockered
rocker which Mr. Powell had not yet
had time to fix—this room, like the other, had a
cozy, pleasant air.</p>
<p>Rents in the brown rug had been patiently
mended by Mrs. Powell before the moving, and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span>now pieces of furniture were placed in such a way
as to cover the most conspicuous patches. It
was a nice room, and there was hardly any time
in the day when it was not flooded with sunshine.</p>
<p>Back of the dining room was the kitchen—a
small kitchen for a country house but all the
better for that.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell had scrubbed the dingy <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'paint until is'" id="tn-40">paint until
it</ins> shone. Even then, though the walls were a
cheerful cream-color, the woodwork was a dull
brown that gave a gloomy tone to the room.</p>
<p>One day, after a short excursion into the town,
Jane appeared with a can of paint and a new paint
brush.</p>
<p>She smiled when Mrs. Powell stared at her.</p>
<p>“I thought I’d give the wood in the kitchen a
coat of cream-colored paint,” she said. “Do you
mind?”</p>
<p>“Mind!” cried the older woman delightedly.
“Why, it’ll be just the thing! But take care you
don’t tire yourself out, Jane Cross,” she added
warningly. “There’s more work in that kitchen
than you think for, most likely.”</p>
<p>But Jane to whom a can of paint, a paint brush,
and something to paint were an unmitigated joy,
set to work with a will on the kitchen woodwork.</p>
<p>The result was more delightful than even she
had dared to hope. Not only the woodwork of
the little kitchen but the kitchen table and the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>chairs as well, blossomed out in two coats of
ivory paint that was a joy to behold.</p>
<p>“They look just as good as new!” Mrs. Powell
exclaimed, as she and Jane hung yellow curtains
at the window. These last had been an inspiration
of Jane’s as well, and with the sunlight
streaming through them, they made the kitchen
indescribably pretty and cheerful.</p>
<p>“I declare, Jane Cross, you’re a wonder!”</p>
<p>The transformation of the kitchen was complete
and Mrs. Powell surveyed the pleasant result,
one arm about Jane. She turned and regarded
the girl’s face steadily and affectionately
for a moment, marked the clear steady purpose
of the eyes, the streak of ivory-colored paint at
the corner of her mouth—a mouth too wide for
beauty—and suddenly Mrs. Powell smiled.</p>
<p>“You’re the kind of girl, Jane Cross,” she
said, “that does everything well that she wants
to. You’re a sweet child and a great comfort to
me. Now run along and get that streak of paint
off your face!”</p>
<p>Upstairs were two bedrooms. One thought,
looking at the two rooms, that the builder when
planning the house might well have spared a slice
of the larger room to add to the smaller and so
arranged his space in a more impartial manner.</p>
<p>As it was, the big room was very, very big—like
the little girl with the curl—and the small
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span>room, if not exactly horrid, was certainly very
small.</p>
<p>The small room, of course, was turned over to
Jane, and she did the best she could with it. Her
single iron bed took up an alarming amount of
space. She had just room to squeeze a tiny table
and a chair in beside it and leave space enough
at the foot of the bed for the dresser.</p>
<p>The builder had been unfair in the matter of
windows, too.</p>
<p>While the front room had four of these—rather
a superfluous number one would think—Jane’s
room had only one, and that not in the best
position to catch the sun. For the greater part of
the day the room was gloomy, and Jane seldom
visited it except to go to bed.</p>
<p>She thought of Betty Browning in the richest,
most palatial house on Rose Hill and wondered
what her room was like. She would have liked
just once to have been allowed to look inside it.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Powell became enthusiastic
about his new position with Martin and Hull.</p>
<p>“They’re old men, but square shooters, both
of them!” he exclaimed. “I like ’em and if I
have luck I may be able to rise before long to a
much better position than I have now. It may
be the luckiest thing that ever happened to us
that we had to leave Coal Run.”</p>
<p>Jane thought so too. She could have been
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>quite happy in her new environment had it not
been for her meeting with Betty Browning and
that pretty girl’s insolent, disdainful attitude
toward her.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Jane became friendly with Billy
Dobson, the grocer’s clerk. She found out that
he was not an ordinary grocer’s clerk at all, and
this is how it happened:</p>
<p>About a week after her arrival with the Powells
at Greenville Jane was on her usual round of
marketing—Mrs. Powell declared that she could
trust Jane to pick out a chicken or any other kind
of fowl, fish, or meat, far more readily than she
could trust herself!—and, with a large bundle
already in her arms, entered Mason’s store to
complete her purchases.</p>
<p>A loud guffaw of laughter greeted her entrance,
and Jane thought sensitively that some one was
laughing at her. But she saw her mistake almost
instantly.</p>
<p>It was Billy Dobson who was being laughed at,
and by the jovial owner of the store himself,
large, fat, jolly Mr. Mason.</p>
<p>Billy, Jane thought, looked as though he disliked
being laughed at. The young fellow’s usual
cheerful grin was absent and he scowled at his
employer.</p>
<p>“You can laugh all right,” Billy retorted, anger
in his voice. “All the inventors that ever lived
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>have had to be laughed at by people that couldn’t
understand their inventions.”</p>
<p>“Go on, my boy, I don’t mean to make you
mad.” Mr. Mason laid a kindly hand on the lad’s
shoulder. “Maybe you have got a good idea, I
don’t know. But you take your inventions so seriously
that sometimes it strikes me funny.”</p>
<p>“It’s only one invention,” said Billy, irritably
rubbing the back of his head. “And I must say
it never struck me as funny.”</p>
<p>Here Billy espied Jane and his face smoothed
to its usual expression as he took her order.</p>
<p>Jane had an opportunity to speak to him while
Mr. Mason was taking care of another customer.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you invented things,” she said.
“I think it’s wonderful!”</p>
<p>Billy’s face brightened and he looked at Jane
with increased interest. Here was a girl who
was evidently as sensible as she looked! He
pretended modesty.</p>
<p>“I wish I could find some one else who would
think it’s wonderful—some one with stacks of
money.”</p>
<p>“You probably will,” said Jane, and added innocently:
“Inventors have to, don’t they?”</p>
<p>“They do,” said Billy, looking suddenly grim
and quite old, Jane thought, much older than he
really was. “And that, let me tell you, is the hard
part of inventing—not the invention itself.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p>
<p>Jane thought about Billy a great deal after
that. Billy was an inventor, one of those wonderful
beings to whom ordinary people could only
look up with awe and wonder. Suppose Billy
should be lucky and make a fortune from his
invention? Wonderful! After that Billy Dobson,
the grocer’s clerk, carried about with him an
aura of romance which, in Jane’s mind at least,
set him apart from the crowd as a wonderful and
superior being.</p>
<p>“Maybe some day I can say ‘I knew him when
he was only a grocer’s clerk,’” she thought, and
thrilled to the thought.</p>
<p>It was not so very long after this remarkable
discovery that Jane was awakened one night by a
strange light in her room. The red glow came
through her one window and danced eerily on the
walls.</p>
<p>Jane sprang from the bed, her heart in her
mouth.</p>
<p>“Fire!” she cried, unaware that she had spoken
the word aloud.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_VII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER VII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">THE GREAT FIRE</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>A startled exclamation came from the front
room. A moment later Mr. Powell, wrapped in
a bathrobe, stumbled sleepily into Jane’s room.</p>
<p>Jane could see Mrs. Powell’s face peering at
her, white and startled, over her husband’s
shoulder.</p>
<p>Jane pointed with unsteady hand at the dancing
red light on the wall.</p>
<p>“Fire!” she cried again, in a breathless voice.
“It must be a terrible one!”</p>
<p>Mr. Powell flung himself across the room to
peer from the window. At the same moment
the hideous shriek of a siren rent the air.</p>
<p>“The fire department is on the job,” muttered
Mr. Powell. “It’s a regular blaze, all right!
Look at that sky!”</p>
<p>“Is it near by, Dink?” Mrs. Powell’s teeth
chattered with excitement. “Can you see where
it is?”</p>
<p>Jane had ducked beneath Mr. Powell’s arm
and was staring out with dilated eyes at the
sky that was stained bright red.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p>
<p>“Maybe it’s the grocery store!” she cried.
“Oh, I do hope Billy Dobson doesn’t keep his
invention there!”</p>
<p>With an exclamation of anxiety and dread
Mr. Powell jerked himself from the window and
started to leave the room. His wife caught him
by the arm.</p>
<p>“Where do you think it is?” she cried.</p>
<p>“Seems to be right in the center of town,” returned
her husband. “I’m worried about Martin
and Hull!”</p>
<p>“Oh!” cried Jane, following out into the hall.
“Do you think it’s the feed and grain place?”</p>
<p>“I think it is!” replied Mr. Powell, as he flung
into his room. “But you can bet I’m going to
find out! I’ve got some papers in my desk that
I’m going after, if it is!”</p>
<p>In a short time he came out of the room again
fully dressed and Jane heard him clatter down the
stairs.</p>
<p>“Don’t bother to dress,” he called up to his
wife. “The fire will probably be out soon and
not much damage done. I’ll be home as soon as
I can.” The door slammed behind him.</p>
<p>All this time Jane had been standing at her
window looking out, fascinated by the illuminated
sky. Now she heard a noise in the doorway and
turned sharply.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell was there.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p>
<p>“I’m going out, Jane,” said the older woman in
a strained voice. “I’m dreadfully worried. If
it really is Martin and Hull’s, nobody—police
nor fireman—can keep Dink from rushing in for
those papers.”</p>
<p>“Wait a minute and I’ll be with you,” Jane
cried.</p>
<p>It never took long for Jane to dress. This
time it did not take as long as usual. She flung
on her clothes and ran down the stairs two at a
time just after Mrs. Powell had opened the front
door and stepped into the street.</p>
<p>Other people had been alarmed by the red
glow in the sky and by the wailing siren of Greenville’s
fire department.</p>
<p>Mad Marion and her sister Lydia joined
Mrs. Powell and Jane almost immediately. The
former was in a pitiful state of excitement and
alarm while the “granite sister” appeared entirely
unmoved. Lydia scarcely spoke except to
tell Marion not “to talk so much.”</p>
<p>People began to straggle from the houses, looking
sleepy and frightened.</p>
<p>A large fire in Greenville might easily prove a
serious thing.</p>
<p>The small fire department was probably inadequate
to cope with anything but small unimportant
fires. And to make things worse, a
brisk breeze had sprung up—a breeze that might
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span>whip the flames from house to house, perhaps
destroying the entire town.</p>
<p>Such was the anxious prophecy that fell in
fragmentary sentences from the lips of passersby—people
who were running toward the fire.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell and Jane started to run, too,
caught in the general hysteria.</p>
<p>Jane clutched at the arm of a man who seemed
to have come from the scene of the fire and
whose face was grave and anxious.</p>
<p>“What is it?” cried the girl. “Is it the grocery
store?”</p>
<p>The man shook his head.</p>
<p>“Feed and grain place—Martin and Hull’s,”
he replied briefly. “Better keep away from there,
girl. The walls are apt to cave in any minute,
and then some one may get hurt!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell gave a cry that was very terrible
to Jane’s ears.</p>
<p>“He’s in there! He’s in there, fighting that
fire! I knew it!” Mrs. Powell muttered, as
she took Jane’s arm and hurried her along. “Oh,
what shall I do? What shall I do?”</p>
<p>“He won’t get hurt. Uncle Dink won’t get
hurt!” Jane’s teeth were chattering so that she
could scarcely force the words between them.
“P—probably the man doesn’t know what he’s
talking about. Oh, please don’t look that way,
Aunt Lou! Please d—don’t!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span></p>
<p>“Hurry, Jane! Hurry!” Mrs. Powell’s grip
upon the girl’s arm was almost painful. She
broke into a swift run. “We may be too late!”</p>
<p>Other people were running, other faces were
lined and anxious, but Mrs. Powell did not seem
to notice them.</p>
<p>At the next corner she stopped short and her
voice rose almost to a shriek as she pointed ahead
of them.</p>
<p>“Look! It <em>is</em> the feed and grain place! Oh,
Dink, Dink, where are you?”</p>
<p>It was a magnificent spectacle for any one who
could enjoy it.</p>
<p>The granaries of Martin and Hull were one
mass of flame, shooting skyward. Showers of
sparks <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'and buring brands'" id="tn-50">and burning brands</ins> fell on the roofs of
buildings near by only to hiss and go out on timbers
watered by the fire-fighters.</p>
<p>Against the flaming background black figures
crawled or ran, pigmy-like, against the unleashed
giant they were fighting. It seemed an unfair
battle with only one result possible.</p>
<p>Before Jane could stop her Mrs. Powell broke
away and ran toward the burning buildings. The
heat almost blistered her face, but she did not stop
until a fireman caught her and pushed her backward.</p>
<p>“Can’t go any nearer, lady,” said the man,
looking pityingly at her haggard face. “You’ve
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>got to get back. Do you walk or will I have to
carry you? Say which, quick I ain’t got no
time to waste!”</p>
<p>“My husband!” gasped Mrs. Powell. “He’s
in there! I’ve got to get to him——”</p>
<p>There was a wild shout. People began running
backward.</p>
<p>The burning wall of the building nearest the
street swayed for an awful second; then, like the
wall of a card house, toppled to the street.</p>
<p>A wild wailing sound that was horrible to hear
rose from the spectators.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_VIII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER VIII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">BENEATH THE WRECKAGE</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>“There are men under those burning walls!”
some one yelled, hoarse with horror. “I saw
them! They couldn’t get quite clear!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell reeled, a hand across her eyes.</p>
<p>She found Jane’s arm about her, Jane’s reassuring
voice in her ear.</p>
<p>“It isn’t Uncle Dink! I know it isn’t! Oh,
help me some one! She’s—she’s fainted!”</p>
<p>Many willing, kindly hands came to Jane’s aid
and helped carry Mrs. Powell into a shoe store
near by. Her temporary faintness was perhaps a
good thing for both Mrs. Powell and Jane, since
they were saved the harrowing sight of the
frenzied rescue work that followed.</p>
<p>Men rushed to the scene of the calamity, carrying
axes, saws, any implement with which they
could hope to cut away the timbers that held
the imprisoned men.</p>
<p>The thick stream from the hose of the fire
department was turned upon this spot, and here
the flames were quickly conquered. The men
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span>who had been caught beneath this outer edge of
the falling wall would not be burned to death.
It remained to be seen how badly they had been
crushed by the weight of the débris.</p>
<p>“Here they are, Bill,” one of the firemen cried.
“Just give me a hand, will you, with this board?
Ataboy! Heave away, now!”</p>
<p>Several others came to the aid of these two,
and, with the push of broad backs beneath it, the
board heaved and gave back, carrying with it
other timbers that had been either partly or
wholly leaning against it.</p>
<p>At the moment a figure came flying toward
them, the figure of a woman.</p>
<p>She was a wild apparition, her staring eyes
and wild disordered hair redly illumined by the
darting flames of the burning building.</p>
<p>At her elbow, holding her arm, vainly trying
to comfort her, was a young girl.</p>
<p>“My husband!” cried the woman. “Where is
he? Have you found him yet?”</p>
<p>One of the men held her off kindly but firmly,
while the others went feverishly on with the work
of rescue.</p>
<p>“Don’t come any closer, ma’am,” said the man
who was holding poor frenzied Mrs. Powell.
“You can’t do anything and you’ll only get in the
way. If I was you,” he added after a moment
when the shouts of the rescuers and their increased
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>activity proclaimed that they had found one of the
victims, “I’d look the other way.”</p>
<p>“My husband!” muttered Mrs. Powell, and to
save her life she could not have taken her eyes
from that awful scene. “Have they found him?
Is he dead? Oh, let me go!”</p>
<p>“Please, please look away,” cried Jane, scarcely
knowing what she said. “Oh, if we could only
have kept you in that shop a little while longer!
If you had only stayed there! If you would only
come away now!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell took no more notice of her than
if she had not spoken.</p>
<p>She started forward suddenly with a wild cry.</p>
<p>They had taken somebody from the wreck—were
carrying him away.</p>
<p>The man who was holding her drew her back.</p>
<p>“If your name’s Powell, that ain’t your man,”
he said. “Don’t look.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell was moaning now like an animal
in pain.</p>
<p>Jane, agonized, took the cold hand in one of
hers and pressed it to her face.</p>
<p>The expression of the older woman did not
change. She continued to stare at the mass of
wreckage where men worked, hacking, lifting,
smashing, striving desperately to save the lives
of the two men they thought were still imprisoned
there.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p>
<p>Again they lifted something from the wreckage,
and again Mrs. Powell started forward.</p>
<p>“Not yet, ma’am,” said the man at her side.
“That ain’t your husband. Probably ain’t here
at all,” he said in a voice he tried to make reassuringly
matter-of-fact. “Probably out there
in the crowd lookin’ for you, or maybe he’s home
now, wondering where you’re at.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell took no more notice of him than
she had of Jane.</p>
<p>“There’s another one under here, boys,” she
heard one of the rescue workers say. “But I
don’t think he’s hurt bad. Seems like a lot of
those timbers have jammed and made a sort of
shed over him. We’ve got to watch out we
don’t loosen one of them and let the whole thing
down on him.”</p>
<p>After that the men worked swiftly and silently
while Jane held tight to Mrs. Powell’s hand,
trembling, and the woman herself stared straight
before her, uttering that queer heartbroken sound
that Jane was to hear in imagination many times
afterward.</p>
<p>“Here he is!” cried a voice suddenly. “And
it’s like I said. He ain’t scarcely hurt!”</p>
<p>“Only my hands, boys,” came a voice that was
faint and weak but striving to be jocular. “Be
easy on ’em. They feel as if they were broken in
sixteen places at once.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span></p>
<p>Seeing that the third victim when helped by
the men could stand shakily on his feet, Mrs.
Powell’s captor released his hold on her arm.</p>
<p>“There’s your husband, ma’am,” he said in a
relieved voice. “And lucky for you he wasn’t
one of the other two fellows. Seems like they
got a bit more than their share.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell was not listening. She had
reached her husband’s side and was patting him
all over incredulously.</p>
<p>“They say you’re not hurt badly,” she said,
her lips quivering. “Is—is that true?”</p>
<p>“Let go my hand, old girl,” he said, as his wife
grasped it in her eagerness. “My hands got
caught under a couple of weights that felt like
a ton apiece. Guess they got bunged up good and
plenty.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell gasped as she held up one of the
poor crushed bleeding hands. Her own hand
was sticky with blood.</p>
<p>“Oh get a doctor, some one, quick!” she cried.</p>
<p>“Well, old lady,” Jane heard Mr. Powell say,
as she ran to find some one who could attend to
him, “I guess your husband’s out of a job now,
for good and all!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_IX">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER IX</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">DISASTER</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Meanwhile in the finest house on Rose Hill
the shrill sound of the siren had roused pretty
Betty Browning from scented rose-colored slumber.</p>
<p>With a petulant exclamation the girl sat up in
bed, prettier than ever with her curling, golden
hair disordered and her lovely eyes dewy with
sleep.</p>
<p>“What is all the noise about?” she cried, and
would have stamped her foot had she been on the
floor instead of in bed. “Something ought to be
done about that siren, waking people up in the
middle of the night!”</p>
<p>Something in the red of the sky and shouts
from without that came to her faintly penetrated
through her self-centered irritation.</p>
<p>With a slight shiver of dread—or perhaps the
breeze from the window was unexpectedly cool—she
slipped on a filmy negligee, inserted her pretty
feet into satin mules, and padded across the room
to the window.</p>
<p>“It seems to be a rather serious fire at that,”
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span>thought Betty, as she leaned from the window.
Every one in town appeared to be abroad.</p>
<p>Still there was nothing, it seemed to her, to
make such a fuss about. The fire department
would put out the fire. That’s what fire departments
were for!</p>
<p>She yawned, and her petulance returned.</p>
<p>She pattered back to the bed, kicked off the
mules and prepared once more to woo sweet slumber.
But she was disturbed again, this time by
the sound of voices.</p>
<p>She heard her father speak in a quick agitated
tone. He seemed to be in the hall just outside
her door, while her mother’s languid, bored voice
came from the direction of her bedroom.</p>
<p>Then suddenly the telephone rang and Betty
heard her father go quickly to answer it.</p>
<p>There was a moment of excited conversation,
unintelligible to Betty. Then she heard her
father slam up the receiver and fairly run through
the hall.</p>
<p>“They say it’s Martin and Hull’s!” he cried.
“If it is, I’m about ruined!”</p>
<p>This brought Betty to her feet in earnest.</p>
<p>She slipped on the mules again, ran to the
door, and flung it open. She was still petulant, a
little bewildered, yet vaguely alarmed.</p>
<p>She heard her mother’s voice say sharply:</p>
<p>“What do you mean by that preposterous statement?
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span>You, ruined! You? Why, I never heard
anything so absurd!”</p>
<p>“Maybe, my dear. But true, nevertheless.”
Her father’s voice was grim, so changed from its
ordinary tone that Betty could scarcely recognize
it.</p>
<p>The girl could hear her mother stirring languidly,
could guess at the look of annoyance on
her handsome face.</p>
<p>“If you must speak in riddles, Clyde Browning,”
said Mrs. Browning, still more sharply,
“perhaps you will not object to giving me an
answer to this one.”</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence. Then Mr.
Browning spoke in a slow measured tone that
struck a queer dread to the heart of the girl who
listened.</p>
<p>“I would give you an answer quickly enough,
Lily, if I thought you could understand or would
even care to try. As it is, I can only tell you
that I have met with some rather heavy losses
lately. Before I knew of these losses——”</p>
<p>“You are always having losses, Clyde,” Mrs.
Browning’s voice broke in, bored and angry.
“You have had losses ever since I married you, yet
we continue to live in the handsomest house on
Rose Hill. We have two cars and servants still.
You must know that I am rather well seasoned to
your false alarms by this time.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p>
<p>“This is no false alarm,” returned Mr. Browning
in that same grim voice. “I wish to heaven
it were. If I could get back that thirty thousand——”</p>
<p>“What thirty thousand?” asked his wife
sharply.</p>
<p>“Thirty thousand dollars <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'that I leant'" id="tn-60">that I lent</ins> Martin
and Hull only two weeks ago,” Mr. Browning
returned. “If Martin and Hull’s has burned
down, then my thirty thousand has probably
burned with it, for their building was not fireproof,
and if they had any insurance it was little.
That—try to understand this, Lily—wipes out
just about everything I had left in the world!”</p>
<p>Betty gave a strangled cry and pressed her
hands to her lips. She listened, expecting to hear
her mother cry out in alarm. It was with an odd
shock then that she heard a laugh, a mocking,
tinkling laugh.</p>
<p>“Surely, you don’t intend me to think that you
haven’t something more than that to fall back
upon, Clyde?” she said. “You, who, from a
small beginning, amassed a fortune. You are
joking, of course.”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning gave a harsh, exasperated exclamation
and came down the hall. Betty could
see that he was fully dressed and ready for the
street. She ran to him.</p>
<p>“Dad, I didn’t mean to listen—I hardly knew
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>what I was doing,” she gasped. “It—what you
said—isn’t true?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid it is, Betty.” Mr. Browning stood
for a moment, looking at her oddly. “But don’t
bother your pretty head about it. Young girls
can’t understand such things. Go to bed now
and see if you can’t finish your sleep. I’ll be back
soon.”</p>
<p>“Are you going to the fire?” Betty asked as he
turned away.</p>
<p>“I’m going to see if that burning building is
really Martin and Hull’s,” her father returned
grimly.</p>
<p>Betty was left standing in the hall, shivering.</p>
<p>“Betty!”</p>
<p>It was her mother’s voice, high, querulous.</p>
<p>“Yes, mother?”</p>
<p>“Is that you in the hall?”</p>
<p>“Yes, mother.”</p>
<p>“Then come in here. Shut the door, too. I
do hope,” she continued when Betty had obeyed,
“that none of the servants heard what your father
was saying.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>Betty’s tone was distant. She was trying
vaguely to understand something that was new
and bewildering to her, something that frightened
her.</p>
<p>That new thing in her father’s tone and manner!
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span>What if he were not joking, as her mother
seemed to think? What if he were really in
danger of losing all his money? What if they
were really to be poor?</p>
<p>“Why!” Her mother’s sharp voice broke into
her unpleasant meditations. “It isn’t like you to
ask such a silly question, Elizabeth.” Mrs.
Browning only called her daughter by her full
name when she was in a state of extreme annoyance
with her. This seemed to be one of those occasions.
“Why, indeed! Because it is vulgar
to let the servants know one’s private affairs—especially
when they are unpleasant.”</p>
<p>“Mother,” Betty spoke in an odd tone, a tone
odd enough, indeed, to catch even Mrs. Browning’s
languid attention, “suppose what dad said
is true? Suppose we <em>have</em> lost all our money?”</p>
<p>“Nonsense, child!” A dark frown marred
Mrs. Browning’s otherwise perfect forehead.
“You ought to know your father well enough by
this time to know that he is always worrying
about something. I don’t think he would be
happy,” she said, with an impatient movement
of her handsome shoulders, “if he hadn’t something
to worry about.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t seem happy to-night,” said Betty
in a monotonous voice.</p>
<p>Mrs. Browning switched on her bed-light, and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span>in its rose-shaded, flattering light surveyed her
daughter.</p>
<p>Betty was amazingly pretty in her lacy blue
negligee with her yellow hair rumpled charmingly
and her lovely eyes wide and thoughtful. She was
a vision to soothe even Mrs. Browning’s irate
heart. For with all her failings, and they were
many, this lady was inordinately fond and proud
of her pretty daughter.</p>
<p>“What can be the matter with you, child?” she
said, but not as sharply as she had intended.
“You are far too pretty and much too young to
bother your head with money matters. Run
along now and get your beauty sleep.”</p>
<p>“But I don’t want to go to sleep,” Betty persisted.
“I’d like to talk about dad, mother. I
never saw him like that before. I’m sure he really
is worried.”</p>
<p>“Worried!” Mrs. Browning spoke lightly and
even laughed a little. “Of course he’s worried.
I think I remember saying before that that is how
he takes his pleasure. Now run along, like a
good girl. You may speak lightly of beauty
sleep, but I, never! To-morrow we’ll write to
Chevot’s, darling, and order several of those
sports frocks you fancied. That’s right—leave
the door open just a crack as you go.”</p>
<p>Doubtless her mother was asleep soon after
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span>that. Betty did not go back to see; though, oddly
enough, she would have liked to.</p>
<p>What she did not know was that her mother
had attached more importance to Mr. Browning’s
announcement of money losses than she had pretended
to. Although she refused entirely to
credit his statement that if Martin and Hull’s
burned, her husband would lose the great bulk of
his fortune, Mrs. Browning did believe that he
had suffered more or less severe reverses in some
of his investments.</p>
<p>“I do wish he would be careful,” she thought,
as she switched off the rosy bed-light and settled
herself impatiently in a luxurious, downy bed.
“I may have to do without that jet evening gown
I admired. Of course this had to come at a time
when Chevot’s offerings are almost irresistible!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Browning fell asleep shortly after that
with nothing weighing more heavily upon her
mind, apparently, than the loss of the jet evening
gown.</p>
<p>Betty, on the contrary, was suffering a rare experience.
She could not sleep.</p>
<p>The reflection of the flames still danced on the
walls of her pretty room. For a time they seemed
to burn more brightly, and objects of furniture
stood out almost as clearly as though it were day.</p>
<p>“Suppose the whole town should go up in
flames,” thought Betty.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span></p>
<p>Such things had happened before, she knew.</p>
<p>But after what seemed to her—and, in reality,
were—hours of waiting, the menacing glare of the
flames wavered, lessened, changed from red to
salmon, from salmon to a faint yellow, and then
merged, sullen and beaten, into the dreary gray
of early dawn.</p>
<p>Betty heard her father come in soon after that.
His step dragged. In that halting sound was
weariness—defeat.</p>
<p>Betty wanted to go to him, but did not dare.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_X">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER X</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">SUSPECTED</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>It seemed a miracle to Jane when she thought
of it afterward that Mr. Powell had not been
more seriously injured. The other two men who
had been taken from under the ruins of the wall
were much more badly hurt. It was rumored that
one might die and that the other would be forced
to keep to his bed for many weeks to come.</p>
<p>Doctor Pendleton, a busy physician and surgeon,
dressed Mr. Powell’s injured hands. He
looked grave when the work was done.</p>
<p>“The bruises on your body will get well
quickly,” he told him. “But the hands are a different
matter. Some of the small bones are
broken, the tendons are stretched. You will have
to give your hands a good long rest before they
will be of any use to you again.”</p>
<p>They went home then, although the fire was
still blazing and sparks from it, despite all the
precautions of the firemen, had set fire to the roof
of the building nearest it.</p>
<p>“Looks as if the whole town might go,” muttered
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span>Mr. Powell unhappily, as he allowed his
wife and Jane to lead him homeward.</p>
<p>“I don’t care if it does,” said Mrs. Powell, “as
long as you are safe——”</p>
<p>“And out of a job,” said the man, with a short
bitter laugh. “Don’t forget that, Lou!”</p>
<p>“I’m not forgetting it,” returned Mrs. Powell
stoutly. “But even if you had a job you couldn’t
work at it with those poor hands. As soon as
you’re well there will be plenty more jobs for
you.”</p>
<p>She spoke bravely, far more bravely, Jane
imagined, than she felt.</p>
<p>Jane was very thoughtful during the rest of the
walk home and afterward when she sat by the
one window in her room, watching the flames paint
strange pictures in the sky.</p>
<p>“If Uncle Dink has no position and couldn’t
possibly work at one if he had it until his hands
are well, I wonder what we’ll do?” she asked herself.
“I don’t suppose Aunt Lou has much money
laid by, and even if she had, it wouldn’t last long
with nothing coming in. And I’ll just be an extra
expense to them. Oh, dear, Jane, I wish you
could think of something!”</p>
<p>So it came to pass that two girls in Greenville,
one the girl they called “Plain Jane,” the other,
“Pretty Betty,” spent that night in anxious wakefulness,
pondering in their different ways the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>same puzzling question, “What does one do when
one has no money?” To neither of them then
came the only answer, the very simple answer,
really, to the query.</p>
<p>As the first gray light of dawn dimmed the fire-reddened
sky, the firemen conquered the blaze.
An early sun rose upon an ugly, blackened scene
of desolation.</p>
<p>The two buildings adjoining Martin and Hull’s
were almost as badly damaged as their neighbor’s.
The actual loss in dollars had not been figured as
yet, but one could guess that it would be enormous,
for the insurance companies had only lately
refused to carry the risk on these buildings.</p>
<p>Those most interested in the calamity, having
retired for a few hours of much-needed rest, returned,
one after another, to the scene of desolation.</p>
<p>A crowd gathered, gesticulating, speculating.</p>
<p>Poor Mr. Martin, of Martin and Hull, was
wandering about the ruins in a dazed way. He
seemed only to half realize the extent of the
calamity, yet could not drag himself away from
the scene of it. He answered questions put to
him vaguely—if he answered them at all.</p>
<p>After vainly trying to exact some plausible explanation
of the fire from him, Mr. Browning
went in search of Hull.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p>
<p>“Maybe I can get some sense out of him,” he
muttered. “Though I doubt it.”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning did not know that Betty was
following him. If he had, he would, in all probability,
have ordered her back home again for fear
that she would realize too soon the extent of the
misfortune that had come to the house of Browning.</p>
<p>But Betty was following somewhat after the
manner of a Persian kitten at the heels of a
mastiff, and those who saw her wondered that
she should be there at all.</p>
<p>Though her face was unnaturally pale and her
eyes unnaturally large, Betty Browning made a
very pleasing picture in a woolly white sport coat
and a white felt hat pulled down close over her
golden bobbed hair.</p>
<p>Many of the curious who were among the
crowds at the scene of the fire nudged each other
as the pretty girl passed, and speculated as to
what would happen if the rumor, already mysteriously
spreading about town, that Mr. Browning
had lost his money should prove true.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Betty was unconscious of the curious
scrutiny of these people. Her eyes were only
for her father, for the unremembered lines in
his handsome face, for the unaccustomed stoop of
his broad shoulders.</p>
<p>If it had not been for these things, Betty might
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span>have thought she had dreamed that conversation
last night between her father and mother. She
was bewildered, frightened, but, more than anything
else, incredulous. She had been so long
accustomed to think of money as something that
was her right, as something as certain as the
rolls and coffee that were served to her in her
bedroom each morning, that she could not imagine
herself without it.</p>
<p>Only the change in her father fed the bewilderment
and fright in her heart and fought the incredulity.</p>
<p>So Betty Browning followed where her father
went, stopped when he stopped, watching him
always with puzzled eyes, while her anxiety grew.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning found the junior partner of
Martin and Hull in the remains of what had once
been an office and was now only a dreary ruin of
sodden débris.</p>
<p>Hull had been searching for something. He
straightened up as he saw Mr. Browning and his
face became a dull red. He turned away, fiddling
futilely with the remains of an old leather case.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Browning,” he muttered. “There
was a bare chance that I might recover some at
least of those securities of yours——”</p>
<p>“But you haven’t?”</p>
<p>From a distance where she could see but not
hear, Betty could see her father’s broad shoulders
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span>sag, noticed his hand go out gropingly like a blind
man feeling for support.</p>
<p>“The small safe is gone completely,” Hull said
dully. “Melted, I suppose by the intense heat of
the fire. I was going to take your thirty thousand
up to the city to-day, Browning. Couldn’t possibly
get away before.”</p>
<p>“To-day is too late!” said Clyde Browning in a
hard voice.</p>
<p>Mr. Hull looked up. There was something
pathetic in the helpless appeal of his voice.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry! I can’t say more. After all I
had no reason to anticipate the ruin of my business
before to-day——”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning cut him short with an impatient
gesture.</p>
<p>“How about yourself?” he said. “Are you insured?”</p>
<p>“Partly,” replied the grain dealer. “You know
the insurance company pulled in on us. Although
my loss will be a heavy one. I doubt,” he added,
with a quiver in his voice, “whether either Martin
or I will have the courage to start all over again.”</p>
<p>There was a momentary silence between the
two men.</p>
<p>“Have you any idea as to how the fire started?”</p>
<p>Hull looked at his questioner’s shaggy white
eyebrows lowering over wrathful eyes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p>
<p>“I think it was that young fool, Billy Dobson!”
he said.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning started and looked more closely
at the other man.</p>
<p>“Billy Dobson! Why, I have always said that
boy was honest as the day——”</p>
<p>“I never said he wasn’t honest, did I?” the
older man protested testily. “But he’s a fool just
the same—a visionary young fool. And a temper
with a dangerous flash and bang to it, let me tell
you.”</p>
<p>“He came in here asking me to finance some
invention or other,” continued the grain dealer,
while Mr. Browning listened with absorbed interest.
“Offered to make a million for me in a
year or two. I reckon he expected there’d be
several millions in it for himself, young fool——”</p>
<p>“And you laughed at him, I suppose,” broke in
Mr. Browning’s cool, curt voice.</p>
<p>“Of course I did! Who wouldn’t? I told him
to take his child’s toy elsewhere and be quick
about it. The lad went but his parting words
were a promise that I’d be ‘sorry some day.’”</p>
<p>“H’m—I see! Well, come along, Hull.
Something tells me this hunch of yours will bear
looking into!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XI">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XI</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">BILLY ANSWERS</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Outside, the two men found several others
formerly employed by Martin and Hull ruefully
inspecting the ruins.</p>
<p>These Mr. Browning questioned circumspectly
but could gather no information that might substantiate
the theory that Billy Dobson had started
the fire.</p>
<p>Finally when they had just about given up hope
of finding anything there, one man came up and
of his own accord volunteered the information
they had been looking for.</p>
<p>“Beg pardon, Mr. Hull,” the fellow said,
touching his cap, “but it’s been on my mind to tell
you something ever since the fire happened.”</p>
<p>“All right, Higgins. Speak out,” said Mr.
Hull, trying not to show too great an interest.</p>
<p>“It’s only this. I was coming home pretty late—I’d
been to the doctor’s to get him for my little
girl who is very sick, as you can find out to be
the truth by inquiring—and on my way I had to
pass the place. I saw some one sort of hangin’
around the buildings and I got curious.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p>
<p>“Yes, go on!” cried his two listeners together.</p>
<p>“Well, gentlemen, I came a little closer and I
could easy see who the feller was. It was Dobson,
Mr. Hull, the feller who clerks over at
Mason’s store.”</p>
<p>A glance passed between Mr. Browning and
Mr. Hull.</p>
<p>Then the latter said calmly:</p>
<p>“You’re sure you couldn’t have been mistaken,
Higgins?”</p>
<p>“I’m so sure,” the man returned, “that I’d be
willin’ to stake my chances of a long and happy
life on it. No, sir, there ain’t no mistake about
it, Mr. Hull. I made sure of my man!”</p>
<p>A crowd had gathered about the three men and
listened curiously to the conversation. Rapidly,
as news always spreads in a crowd, the word
passed from mouth to mouth that Billy Dobson
was suspected of starting the fire.</p>
<p>There was a great amount of excitement, for
in Greenville Billy Dobson was a favorite.
Everybody liked him and a great many people believed
in him. Still, there was, of course, always
the possibility of his being guilty.</p>
<p>Mr. Hull thanked the man Higgins and dismissed
him. By a common impulse Mr. Browning
and his companion turned their steps in the
direction of Mason’s grocery store.</p>
<p>Some of the crowd followed, eager, curious,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>some convinced already of the guilt of Billy Dobson,
some stubbornly incredulous.</p>
<p>On the outskirts of this crowd came Betty,
not of it, but with it in spirit. She had caught
enough of the rumor to know that it was Billy
Dobson who was suspected, and Betty was in a
mood just then to condemn almost any one.</p>
<p>It happened that as this crowd reached the
corner upon which Mason’s grocery store was
situated Jane also reached it, coming from a different
direction.</p>
<p>Jane had been sent to the store for butter and
eggs. Her mind was still preoccupied with what
they should do now that Mr. Powell was incapacitated,
and in this anxiety she had temporarily
forgotten the fire that had wiped out Martin and
Hull’s.</p>
<p>Now she was shocked rudely from her unhappy
reverie by sight of the crowd. She saw Betty
Browning on the edge of it, and her color flamed
high.</p>
<p>What did it all mean? That excited crowd!
Betty Browning with the white face and strained
expression, so unlike the girl that Jane remembered!</p>
<p>She guessed instantly that this strange sight
had some bearing on the calamity of the night
before, but she had no way of knowing the actual
cause.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p>
<p>The crowd turned in at Mason’s store. So did
Jane—a little in the rear of it.</p>
<p>Billy Dobson was behind the counter waiting
upon Mad Marion with all the kindness and
deference he would have given to one of the richest
patrons from Rose Hill.</p>
<p>Mr. Mason himself was in the rear of the
store, stacking up fresh groceries on the immaculate
shelves.</p>
<p>Both men looked surprised as the crowd entered
the store and Marion turned, bobbing and
smiling delightedly at something that promised
excitement.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning wasted no time. With Mr. Hull
at his elbow he went direct to the counter and
himself addressed Billy Dobson. His eyes were
keen and cold as they rested on the frank blue
eyes of the lad.</p>
<p>“Were you in the vicinity of Martin and Hull’s
before the fire last night?” he asked.</p>
<p>Jane had pushed her way through the crowd
until she was close enough to hear the question
distinctly. She was so close to Betty that she
could hear the girl’s quick, indrawn breath as she
waited for the answer.</p>
<p>Jane’s eyes were fixed with a frightened look
on Billy. What did it all mean?</p>
<p>Billy looked surprised for a moment at the
question.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p>
<p>“Why, yes, sir,” he said then, his eyes unwavering.
“I believe I was. In fact, I know I passed
there last night.”</p>
<p>A sigh arose from the crowd, a queer sound
that was almost like an accusation.</p>
<p>Jane felt her heart beat fast. She did not yet
fully understand, but she did realize instinctively
that Billy was in danger of some sort—Billy who
had been kind to her, who had stood as her friend
from the very first day in Greenville.</p>
<p>Mr. Hull spoke now. Something of the dull
hopelessness of his manner had gone and been replaced
by anger.</p>
<p>“Will you kindly explain then,” he said, “what
you were doing there after twelve o’clock last
night—it was that late, was it not?” he interrupted
himself to ask.</p>
<p>“Fully that,” said Billy, his gaze unflinching.
“I should say nearer half-past twelve.”</p>
<p>“Better be a little careful what you say, Billy,”
cautioned Mr. Mason, with an impulse of true
friendliness toward the young man. “Don’t talk
too fast, lad. Better keep a guard on your
tongue.”</p>
<p>“I have no reason to keep a guard on my
tongue,” Billy retorted quietly. “Now, Mr. Hull,
if you have any more questions to ask me——”</p>
<p>“I have several,” said Mr. Hull dryly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p>
<p>Mr. Browning’s keen, searching gaze never
once left the lad’s face.</p>
<p>“The most important among them is,” Mr.
Hull proceeded, “What were you doing skulking
about my place at a time that was nearer half-past
twelve than twelve o’clock last night?”</p>
<p>“I object to the word ‘skulking’,” Billy returned
furiously. Jane clenched her hands. She was
proud of him. “If you will take that back, I’ll
answer your question—not otherwise!”</p>
<p>Mr. Hull was plainly annoyed. The crowd
was growing restive. Betty, close to Jane, gave
an impatient shrug of her shoulders. Her pretty
mouth was set in a straight line.</p>
<p>Only Mr. Browning betrayed a slight change
in his distrustful attitude toward Billy Dobson.
Jane thought she detected a faint gleam of admiration
in his eyes.</p>
<p>“All right, cut it out, then,” said Hull, snapping
angrily at the words. “Only answer my
question. What were you doing near my place
late last night—just before the fire started?”</p>
<p>Again there was a murmur from the crowd.
Billy’s glance swept it wonderingly before he
answered.</p>
<p>“I often walk for miles at night,” he said
quietly. “It’s been a habit with me for a long
time, because that is when I get my good ideas.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p>
<p>There was a titter in the crowd. Some one
laughed outright. Another cried jeeringly:</p>
<p>“That’s a fine line, that is!”</p>
<p>“My lad, you’ll get nowhere with an explanation
like that,” Mr. Hull stated. But Mr. Browning
cut him short, with a gesture. He turned to
Billy, his gaze never leaving the clerk’s face.</p>
<p>“What ideas do you mean?” he asked, not unkindly.</p>
<p>For the first time Billy’s glance wavered.
When he spoke his tone was almost sullen.</p>
<p>“You’ll laugh,” he said. “Everybody laughs.
But since I see it’s important for me to tell the
truth right now——”</p>
<p>“<em>Very</em> important!” broke in the grain dealer
dryly.</p>
<p>“I’ll give you a chance to laugh,” finished Billy,
looking not at Mr. Hull but at Mr. Browning.
“I’ve invented a couple of things that I think are
pretty good, and I’ve got the ideas for them when
I’ve been walking about at night. Now,” bitterly
as the titter spread through the crowd, “go ahead
and laugh. Have a good one on me!”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning said nothing. He was looking
very thoughtful. Hull was irate.</p>
<p>“A pretty explanation that is!” he said. “I
don’t mind telling you, my boy, that it would
stand about two half-seconds in a court of law.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>Now suppose you tell me the real reason. And
be quick about it. I’m getting impatient!”</p>
<p>Billy gripped the edge of the counter and
leaned forward.</p>
<p>“I’ve told you the truth of how I happened to
pass your place last night,” he said. “Though
why I should have to answer your questions, I
don’t know—and I don’t care. If you don’t believe
what I’ve told you, then you know what you
can do, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“I know what I will do,” said the irate grain
dealer, shaking his finger under Billy’s nose. “I’ll
put you in jail!”</p>
<p>“But before you do it,” Billy’s voice was still
calm but there was a glint in his eye, “I’d be
obliged if you’d tell me just what I’m accused of!”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you what you’re accused of!” Mr.
Hull was shaking with wrath, and he went on,
though Mr. Browning tried vainly to stop him.
“You’re accused of deliberately setting fire to my
property last night in revenge for my having refused
you a loan! That is what you are accused
of! Now, deny it, if you dare!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A GENEROUS THOUGHT</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>“Deny it, if you dare!”</p>
<p>The cry rang through the suddenly still, tense
store like the crack of a whip.</p>
<p>Billy Dobson straightened up and looked steadily
at his accuser.</p>
<p>“I do deny it! It’s a lie!”</p>
<p>There was something in the fearless honesty of
the young man’s eyes that convinced most of those
in the crowd. There were some who doubted,
however; one who doubted openly, and that one
was Hull.</p>
<p>“Well, my lad, we’ll see,” said the latter, with
a dubious shake of his head. “But I warn you,
if you try to get away, it may go hard with you.”</p>
<p>“I won’t try to get away,” said Billy proudly.
“You can find me any time you want me, either
here or at my own house.”</p>
<p>Jane was indignant. She turned to poor
Marion who had been looking rather frightened
during the inquisition.</p>
<p>“It’s an outrage!” said Jane, loud enough for
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>those about her to hear. “Why, Billy Dobson
couldn’t do a thing like that!”</p>
<p>“You seem very sure!”</p>
<p>The words were uttered in a low tone, but
there was an icy quality in them that caused Jane
to wheel about suddenly. She found herself looking
into the disdainful eyes of pretty Betty Browning.</p>
<p>“If I were you,” said Betty in the same icy tone,
“I would be a little careful what I said. Billy
Dobson is guilty, and you may get yourself in
trouble by defending him!”</p>
<p>Before Jane could recover from her astonishment
and retort, Betty turned her back upon the
plain girl and walked from the store.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning had been deep in a conversation
with Hull and had not appeared to notice his
daughter. The latter’s going seemed a signal for
the breaking up of the crowd. They
<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'struggled off'" id="tn-82">straggled off</ins>
reluctantly, going in groups of two and three and
talking excitedly about the new turn events had
taken.</p>
<p>Jane stood rooted to the spot, her eyes following
the figure of pretty Betty as the girl proceeded
slowly up the slope of Rose Hill.</p>
<p>Jane became aware suddenly that Marion was
tugging at her sleeve.</p>
<p>“Lovely girl, Betty Browning,” said the latter,
bobbing and smiling wistfully. “Lovely girl, but
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span>cold—cold and proud like her mother. No heart,
they say. All ice. Yes, yes, all ice.”</p>
<p>Jane smiled at the poor little woman and patted
her hand.</p>
<p>“Well, we needn’t worry, Miss Marion,” she
said, biting her lips to keep them from trembling.
“It isn’t our fault if some people are unkind, is
it?”</p>
<p>“No, no! Of course, not at all!” simpered
Marion. She squeezed Jane’s hand and with
many backward glances and smiles and nods managed
to get herself out of the store.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning had gone out too, in earnest
conversation with Hull.</p>
<p>Jane found herself alone with Billy when his
employer followed Mr. Browning and Mr. Hull
to the street.</p>
<p>Jane’s impulse was to go away, for Billy looked
as if he wanted to be alone. But there were the
things that Mrs. Powell needed right away, and
then Jane thought that she must speak to Billy
and assure him of her friendship, at least.</p>
<p>“Billy!”</p>
<p>The young man, who had turned away and pretended
to be absorbed in contemplation of the
goods on the shelves, turned toward her.</p>
<p>Jane was startled at the sight of his face. It
seemed to have aged incredibly in the past ten
minutes. He was white, there were lines about
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span>his mouth and suffering had left a cloud in his
usually merry eyes.</p>
<p>“Billy, I’m so sorry!” she cried, impulsively,
reaching a hand across the counter to him. “It
was all a trumped-up charge, and they ought to
be ashamed of themselves! I’ll tell them so, too,
any old time I happen to meet them!”</p>
<p>“You did,” said Billy, his face softening into a
smile of comradeship. “I heard you stand up for
me, and I heard what Betty Browning said, too.
You’re a good little sport, Jane, and, believe me,
I’m not going to forget it!”</p>
<p>He took her outstretched hand of friendship
and pressed it so hard it hurt. Dear Billy! He
was badly in need of comfort just then. Jane’s
heart ached for him.</p>
<p>“They can’t do anything to you, Billy.” The
words were more a fearful question than a statement,
though Jane tried her best to seem confident.
“They certainly couldn’t convict a person
on no more evidence than they have!”</p>
<p>“I don’t suppose so,” said Billy, and sighed,
rubbing a hand across his forehead. “But it really
doesn’t matter so much whether they get out a
formal charge against me or not. I’m just about
done for in this town.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” gasped Jane, alarmed at
his tone.</p>
<p>Billy looked at her queerly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p>
<p>“You’re only a kid, after all, Jane, in spite of
the sixteen years you claim, and I don’t suppose
you know what a thing like this can do to a fellow
in a small town. Suspicion is almost as bad as
proved guilt.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no!” cried Jane. “How could it be?”</p>
<p>“It puts a fellow under a cloud,” explained
Billy. Jane could see that it did him good to talk
to some one, and so she encouraged him with all
her might. “It puts a fellow under a cloud,”
Billy repeated, “and turn as he will he finds the
cloud following him, wrapping him in a mist of
doubt and suspicion. In the city a fellow can get
away from it, but in a place like Greenville—never!”</p>
<p>“But I’m quite sure that most of the people in
Greenville don’t believe a word that that old Mr.
Hull said!” Jane protested. “And if they are
like me, Billy, it will only make them feel more
friendly to you because you have been treated so
unjustly.”</p>
<p>“But there aren’t many like you, Jane,” said
Billy, fervently grateful for the girl’s loyal friendship.
“If there were, I shouldn’t wonder if the
world would be a much better place to live in.
But Greenville is Greenville, and as far as any
future for me here is concerned, I might as well
stop trying.”</p>
<p>“But your inventions!” exclaimed Jane.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p>
<p>“It’s my inventions I’m thinking of,” Billy retorted
grimly. “Do you suppose any one is going
to lend me money to back my ideas now, when
I’ve been accused of setting one place on fire
already because the proprietors wouldn’t finance
me? No sir, I never had much of a chance, but
that’s gone now.”</p>
<p>Jane was silent for a moment, thinking hard,
while Billy beat a restless tattoo with his fingers
on the edge of the counter.</p>
<p>“Billy, if you could get away from Greenville,
you’d have a chance of getting some one to back
you, wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” agreed the lad. “But with the wages
I’m getting here and no prospect of ever getting
any more as far as I can see,” he added bitterly,
“I might as well try to get to Mars. But never
mind, Jane,” he added in a different tone, seeing
how worried and really distressed the girl looked,
“it’ll all come out in the wash. And anyway,”
with another grateful pressure of the small
friendly hand, “I’ll always remember you stood
up for me when I was down and needed friends.
It’s the people who stand by you at a time like
this that you know you can count on. And now,”
with a faint return of his old cheerful grin, “what
can I do for you this morning?”</p>
<p>So the girl gave her order and left the store
with her purchases.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p>
<p>But Jane had other things to think of that
morning beside Billy’s troubles. Things had begun
to look black at home with Mr. Powell laid
up for an indefinite period. She had noticed how
careful Mrs. Powell had been in ordering things
from the store. She knew it was a question of
money.</p>
<p>So she was very thoughtful on her way back
to the Powell cottage. An idea was forming in
her mind.</p>
<p>She had not started to school in Greenville.
It was too near the end of the term. The whole
summer stretched before her.</p>
<p>Why not?</p>
<p>Bustling in with her bundles from the store,
eager to win Aunt Lou’s consent to her new idea,
Jane found that good woman in the sunshiny
kitchen dissolved in tears.</p>
<p>“Why, Aunt Lou!” she cried, alarmed.
“What is the matter?”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell dried her eyes hastily and tried
to smile.</p>
<p>“N-nothing, Jane,” she said. “I—did you get
everything from the store?”</p>
<p>Jane knew only too well the meaning of those
tears. Mrs. Powell could easily stand up against
the added task of caring for her husband during
his illness. But where was the money coming
from with which to pay the rent, the doctor, the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>store bills? She rightly suspected that the moving
alone had cut deeply into the Powells’ savings.</p>
<p>A sudden flood of gratitude for this good
woman who had been so kind to her overwhelmed
Jane. She went over to Mrs. Powell and laid
a hand lightly on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Aunt Lou,” she challenged, with a little thrill
in her voice, “I bet you don’t know who I am!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XIII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XIII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">JANE LOOKS FOR WORK</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>To say that Aunt Lou was surprised at this
change in her sober little mouse would not adequately
express her state of mind as she stared
at Jane.</p>
<p>“Of course I know who you are!” she cried.
“You’re Jane Cross and one of the best and dearest
girls alive.”</p>
<p>Jane shook her head gaily.</p>
<p>“That’s only half of it,” she cried. “Try
again!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell was so completely puzzled that
Jane decided to keep her in suspense no longer.</p>
<p>She pushed the bundles aside so as to make
room for herself on the kitchen table; then sat
on the edge of the table, one foot swinging.</p>
<p>“It’s so simple I must have been sound asleep
not to think of it long ago,” she said. “Aunt Lou,
I’ve decided to be a business woman!”</p>
<p>“A—what?” gasped Mrs. Powell.</p>
<p>“Well, anyway, a business girl,” Jane compromised.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m going to get a job,
and I think I’ll start out looking for it no later
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>than to-morrow morning. Now, Mrs. Powell,
what have you got to say to that?”</p>
<p>This was such a different Jane that the poor
lady was utterly bewildered.</p>
<p>“Why, Jane dear, what can you do? A girl
like you? Why,” protesting, “you’re scarcely
more than a child!”</p>
<p>“I’m sixteen, if I don’t look it,” Jane said
stoutly. “And I’m sure there ought to be something
I can do in this town, if I only find out what
it is. Anyway,” the swinging foot stopped swinging
and Jane looked suddenly very sober, “I can’t
be a drag on you and Uncle Dink when you have
been so kind to me. Don’t you suppose,” she
added quickly when Mrs. Powell would have interrupted,
“that I know what you were crying
about when I came in? You were worried because
expenses are going on just the same and
there is no money coming in to meet them. Well,
I’m going out and make some money!”</p>
<p>It was a valiant resolve, but when Jane thought
of actually putting it into practice she quailed.</p>
<p>She was so shy and sensitive that it was actual
pain for her to meet strangers. The thought of
asking any one of these for work filled her with
dread.</p>
<p>Still, it seemed the only thing for her to do.</p>
<p>“I’ll be killing three birds with one stone if I
can only get work somewhere,” she thought.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span>“First of all, I can help Aunt Lou. Then I can
show that Betty Browning that I am somebody,
even though she thinks she can talk to me as if I
were some sort of bug. And then,” color tinged
her face and her eyes began to shine with the
thought, “maybe I can put a little bit aside to
help Billy get out his invention. I don’t think
he’d mind taking help from plain Jane, especially
if he knew how happy it made her to be able
to help him. Anyway,” with a resolution that
made her heart thump wildly, “I’m going to try!”</p>
<p>When Mr. Powell heard of Jane’s determination,
his round, good-natured face shone with
something more than gratitude and he proposed
three cheers and a tiger in a husky voice.</p>
<p>“It won’t be for long, Jane,” he told the girl,
regarding his bandaged hands ruefully. “I’ll get
a job again pretty soon, and then you can give
yours up. You’re a plucky youngster and a good
one. You’ll make good in anything you try, Jane
Cross.”</p>
<p>It was a great occasion, that Monday on which
Jane started to look for work.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell, good soul, had spent two whole
days making a dress which she said would “look
modest and businesslike and, at the same time, not
too plain,” and the seeking for a position had been
postponed until this should be finished.</p>
<p>The effect was not bad, considering the fact
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span>that the dress had originally been one of Mrs.
Powell’s, new three seasons back. It was of
gray, light-weight jersey and was made on long
boyish lines that suited Jane.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell had found an old hat, too, which
she and Jane remodeled rather cleverly. It was
small and fitted Jane’s sleek head closely, giving
her a well-groomed look.</p>
<p>Then the Monday morning came that they had
set for the great attempt.</p>
<p>Jane’s new things were hung as carefully in her
neat bare closet as though they had just come
from a Fifth Avenue fashion shop, and it is safe
to say that Jane prized them almost as much as
though they had been of such aristocratic origin.</p>
<p>It was a long time since she had had anything
she thought so pretty as that simple gray jersey
frock and the close-fitting hat.</p>
<p>“I’ll feel quite grown up,” she said, as she did
up buttons with fingers that trembled on that
eventful Monday morning. “Oh, I do hope nobody
guesses that I’m barely sixteen! I’m sure
I look much older than that!”</p>
<p>She did not look even that, however, and for
all her hopeful speech, she knew it. But her very
youth was appealing and could be counted on to
plead for her far more effectively than any number
of added years could have done.</p>
<p>When the gray dress had been put on and adjusted
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>to a nicety, Jane regarded herself in the
glass.</p>
<p>Her hair was mussed a little and she smoothed
it to a glossier neatness. Her face was flushed
with excitement and her eyes sparkled.</p>
<p>She put on the little hat, pulled it far down
over her hair, then went to the head of the stairs
and called Mrs. Powell.</p>
<p>The latter came, hands sudsy with dish water,
to “pass on Jane.”</p>
<p>Her first glance was one of pleasure and astonishment.</p>
<p>“I declare to goodness, Jane, you’re certainly
good to look at!” she said. “And smart, too, in
that dress, if I do say it of my own dressmaking!”</p>
<p>Mr. Powell was brought in to marvel and to
praise, which he did with such heartiness that
Jane glowed with happiness and felt a new confidence
in herself.</p>
<p>“I’ll bring home a job to-night,” she told them,
laughing. “The new dress is bound to bring good
luck!”</p>
<p>Poor Jane! She was soon to find that getting
work was a much more difficult matter than she
supposed it would be.</p>
<p>First, there was Haley’s tea room to visit.</p>
<p>This place, just opened and trying to be as
smart as its city cousins, was actually more restaurant
than tea room. One could have eaten
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span>three good meals a day there and have been satisfied—which
is proof that the name “tea room”
did not adequately describe it. Jane thought she
could be a waitress. Not so much to being a
waitress—just a matter of wearing a black dress
and a smart white apron and cap and passing
around good things on a tray to hungry people.
Jane thought she could learn the trick quickly and
be a very good waitress. She supposed that sort
of work brought very little money to begin with,
but then, if she looked sharp and proved herself
reliable, she might find herself in the position of
head-waitress and from that on up to—well, who
knew what?</p>
<p>Jane did not, nor did she know many other
things that she was to learn within the next few
hours.</p>
<p>The shop was on Main street, about two blocks
west of Rose Hill.</p>
<p>Jane had to pass Mason’s grocery store on the
way. She saw Billy through the plate-glass door
and nodded gaily. She might soon have good
news for Billy!</p>
<p>There was the tea shop.</p>
<p>She opened the door with her first feeling of
timidity.</p>
<p>Whom did one approach, she wondered, on an
errand of this sort? It was all very bewildering.</p>
<p>Jane hesitated within the door of the shop.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p>
<p>There were several people at the daintily appointed
tables and some looked curiously at Jane.
Among those who did not look at Jane at all,
was Betty Browning.</p>
<p>Betty appeared to be having either a late breakfast
or an early lunch of cinnamon rolls and
coffee. There were deep circles under her eyes
and she buttered a roll absently as though her
mind were miles away.</p>
<p>If Jane had needed anything to stiffen her courage,
the sight of Betty was enough. She lifted
her chin and marched straight to the rear of the
store where a self-sufficient young person was sitting
behind a counter and a wire cage.</p>
<p>“I’d like to get work here,” Jane said in a
steady voice to this young person. “Do you
know where I can ask about it?”</p>
<p>The girl behind the counter treated Jane to a
cool, appraising gaze; then rose and opened a
door marked “Office. Private.”</p>
<p>She disappeared, leaving Jane to stand there,
feeling hot and cold by turns.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XIV">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XIV</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A FIRST REFUSAL</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Minutes, that seemed ages to Jane, passed.</p>
<p>Then the self-sufficient young person, who
chewed gum so nonchalantly, returned and
pointed with her thumb toward the open door.</p>
<p>“She’ll see you,” said the latter with a sigh of
exquisite boredom. “Walk in!”</p>
<p>Jane was not sure she could walk. Her knees
were feeling very wabbly.</p>
<p>She managed the distance to the door very
creditably, however, pushed the door open, and
stepped within the room beyond.</p>
<p>A gray-haired, bespectacled, sharp-nosed person
sat very still in a chair near a desk. She
looked up as Jane entered, frowned, and pointed
toward the door.</p>
<p>“Shut it!” she commanded.</p>
<p>Hardly a very promising beginning, thought
Jane.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, she obeyed the command and approached
the desk with a firmer step.</p>
<p>She was about to speak when the grim-faced
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span>individual gave her a quick glance and said
sharply:</p>
<p>“What is your business, young woman? Be
quick, for I have a great deal to do.”</p>
<p>Jane had supposed the girl in the iron cage had
explained her errand. It was a shock to find that
she was to be forced to break the ice twice over.</p>
<p>“I’d like a position,” she said bravely. “I—I
hope you have an opening. I’d try to be very
careful and give good service.”</p>
<p>“Good gracious!” The spectacles glared at
Jane as though she had committed some heinous
offense. “Do I hear aright? Do you want to
become a waitress—<em>here</em>?”</p>
<p>The emphasis on the “here” was so marked
that Jane at once felt how presumptuous she had
been even to think of such a thing! She faltered:</p>
<p>“I did hope that—that you might have an opening.”</p>
<p>“Well, I haven’t!” The words were snapped
out smartly. “Next time please explain your business
at the desk before you force your way in here
and waste my time. It is valuable, young woman,
though you may not know it.”</p>
<p>Jane did not stop to explain to this sharp-tongued
woman that she had told her business
to the girl at the desk and that the last thought
in her mind was to force herself in anywhere.</p>
<p>She only wanted to get away from there.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p>
<p>She found her way blindly to the door, opened
it, closed it, and stumbled through the store toward
the entrance.</p>
<p>In passing the table where Betty Browning sat
she stumbled over an uneven spot in the rug and
lurched against the elbow of the pretty girl.</p>
<p>The latter cried out in annoyance as the coffee
slopped over in her saucer. Instantly a waitress
was at her side.</p>
<p>“I’ll get you a fresh cup, Miss,” said the girl,
all solicitude for Betty and all hard looks for
Jane. “It’s a pity some people can’t watch where
they’re going!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Jane heard Betty’s bored voice say as
she opened the door, “isn’t it!”</p>
<p>Jane ran for two whole blocks and drew up
at the corner of the second one rather out of
breath but far more normal in mind.</p>
<p>“Well, I’ve got that out of my system,” she
thought, trying to laugh and making a bad business
of it. “Now I’ll try again. Better luck next
time.”</p>
<p>But her confidence was severely shaken.</p>
<p>The attitude of the sharp woman with the spectacles
was discouraging. She had not even given
Jane a real answer to her request for a position.
Of course what she had said was a plain enough
refusal, but Jane’s sense of justice was outraged.
The woman might at least have told her that she
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span>had no vacancy at the present but that she would
keep her in mind and perhaps have a place for
her at some future date.</p>
<p>As it was, she had been positively insulting.
Hot color rushed to Jane’s face as she thought
of the interview. And as though that were not
enough, she had been awkward and gawkish before
pretty Betty Browning again.</p>
<p>How quick the waitress had been to serve
Betty—how quick to blame Jane!</p>
<p>Jane put a hand to her burning face and walked
on swiftly.</p>
<p>There was all the difference in the world between
Plain Jane and Pretty Betty. But she
would show them—she would show them all yet!</p>
<p>She went to Greenville’s largest drygoods store
then. She might be able to get a position there.</p>
<p>Mr. Grey, the proprietor, received her pleasantly
enough but was discouraging when she mentioned
her need of work.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, my dear young lady,” he said.
“But we have all the clerks we need. One of ’em
might die and leave a vacancy, but that’s about
the only chance there would be for you. And
right now, they’re a pretty healthy lot.”</p>
<p>Jane understood that he meant this pleasantry
in a kindly way, but it grated just the same. Jane
was in no mood for pleasantries.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p>
<p>From this store she went to the Palace, Greenville’s
one moving picture house.</p>
<p>“I thought you might need some one to give
out tickets or to act as usher,” she said timidly to
Max Rosenberg, the florid-faced, thick-lipped proprietor
of the Palace.</p>
<p>Max Rosenberg was one of those men who
think themselves charmingly humorous but are, in
reality, only offensive. Jane left the place wearily,
and without her position, feeling for the first
time faintly apprehensive.</p>
<p>“Suppose I can’t get a job, after all?” she
thought. “I always supposed any one could find
work to do if they really wanted to do it badly
enough. <em>Now</em>—where do I go?”</p>
<p>She went to many places during the remainder
of that long afternoon and met with no success
anywhere.</p>
<p>She was hot, tired, and hungry. Several times
she had been on the point of returning home for
a little rest and refreshment, but each time
stopped herself with the thought that she would
try one more place before giving up for the day.</p>
<p>“I won’t go home without something to do!”
she told herself, and the more weary she became,
the brighter burned her resolution.</p>
<p>At the corner of Cherry and Blossom Streets
she paused for a moment to rest her feet. The
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>afternoon was hot and she had walked a long
way.</p>
<p>While she rested, a sign across the street
caught her attention. She started and looked
more closely.</p>
<p>This was Garwick’s Real Estate Agency. Jane
had heard Mr. Powell speak of John Garwick
as the most successful realtor in town.</p>
<p>She had not thought of applying to him for a
position, principally because she had not thought
of herself as being useful in a real estate office.</p>
<p>What made her think of it now was a feeling
of desperation and a sign that had been inserted
in one end of the street window. It was a large
sign, blackly lettered. Jane had no difficulty in
reading it from across the street. The sign said
merely, “Clerk Wanted.” But that was enough
for Jane.</p>
<p>Marshaling what was left of her courage and
leaving herself no time for thought, Jane crossed
the street and pushed open the door of Garwick’s
Real Estate Agency.</p>
<p>Two men were in earnest conversation, heads
close together, voices low.</p>
<p>Jane felt that she was interrupting and gasped
an embarrassed apology.</p>
<p>The gray-haired man in the swivel chair near
the desk glanced up at her and smiled pleasantly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p>
<p>The black-haired man leaned back in the wicker
chair and looked curious.</p>
<p>Jane’s face was red, but she could not back out
now.</p>
<p>“What can I do for you?” asked the gray-haired
man pleasantly.</p>
<p>“I—I saw your sign in the window,” Jane said.
“I thought, perhaps——”</p>
<p>“It meant what it said and that I really wanted
a clerk?” finished the gray-haired man, taking
pity on her confusion. “Well, so I do. If you
will be kind enough to take a seat while I finish
my business with this gentleman, I will be very
glad to talk to you.”</p>
<p>Jane sank down in one of the wicker chairs
with a quick intake of breath that was almost a
sob.</p>
<p>Here was something that seemed to hold out
a little hope. She was grateful to John Garwick
and loved him from that moment with the love
of a child for the first person who has been truly
kind.</p>
<p>If only she could suit him! If only she might
be allowed to work for him!</p>
<p>Mr. Garwick’s business with the black-haired
man was soon finished. The two seemed on the
best of terms and parted in a very friendly manner.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p>
<p>When the door had closed upon his client,
Mr. Garwick turned to Jane.</p>
<p>“Well, young lady,” he said, “so you saw my
sign in the window. I presume you came in answer
to it. Am I right?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir!” Jane felt breathless. It was all
she could do to speak at all. “I want a position
so much, and when I saw your sign I thought—well,
I thought maybe I might do your work.
I’m willing to try very hard. Indeed I am!”</p>
<p>The half-bantering smile on Mr. Garwick’s face
faded at the vehemence of her tone and his expression
took on an answering earnestness.</p>
<p>“I believe you,” he said, and added slowly, as
he continued to study Jane’s face: “I shouldn’t
wonder if you are exactly the type of young person
I want.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XV">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XV</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A TASTE OF SUCCESS</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Jane Cross could not believe that she had
heard the real estate dealer correctly. She tried
to smile, but her lips trembled. She pressed them
tight together and continued to look at Mr. Garwick,
her eyes very large and dark.</p>
<p>“You see,” the pleasant-faced gentleman continued,
“the young fellow I had with me here for
a long time deserted me for a New York firm
that offered him broader opportunities. You
can’t blame the boy, but at the same time you can
see that his desertion left me in rather a hole.”</p>
<p>“A man!” gasped Jane. “Do—why do you
think—I could possibly take the place of a—man?”</p>
<p>By this speech it may be seen how very unaccustomed
indeed Jane was to the ways of a
modern business world. But Mr. Garwick liked
her none the less for it, though he was amused.</p>
<p>“Of course, that remains to be seen,” he
pointed out. “You are the first person to answer
my sign, which was placed in the window only
this noon, and I’m inclined to give you a chance.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p>
<p>“The work isn’t difficult,” he went on, seeing
that Jane looked a bit frightened. “It will be
mostly a matter of taking telephone messages at
first and of attending to clients while I am forced
to be away from the office.”</p>
<p>“I’m quite sure that I could do that!” Jane said
earnestly.</p>
<p>“So am I,” smiled Mr. Garwick. “You look
like a young person who would put her mind to
whatever she attempted. Well, suppose we do
this.” He swung about in his chair and placed
the fingers of his two hands together in a meditative
gesture. “Suppose we try you out for a
month and see how you like us? At the end of
that time—well, we may even raise the salary.”</p>
<p>Jane knew what the other alternative would be—what
would happen—in case Mr. Garwick did
not like her!</p>
<p>But she was grateful for a chance. That was
all, she told herself breathlessly, that she asked.</p>
<p>“Well, what do you say?” asked Mr. Garwick,
smiling.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you! I’ll try so hard to do what
you want me to. When—” Jane hesitated, then
plunged boldly: “When will you want me to
start?”</p>
<p>“The sooner the better.” Mr. Garwick fumbled
restlessly with some papers on his desk.
“I’ve fallen behind in my collections, and now it’s
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span>necessary for me to make up for lost time. Can
you start to-morrow morning? I will start you at
twelve dollars a week.”</p>
<p>Could she! And twelve dollars a week!</p>
<p>Jane almost clapped her hands, but remembered
just in time that that would be childish.
She was practically grown up now and about to
embark upon a career! She must be careful.</p>
<p>So instead of clapping her hands she merely
looked her gladness and said “Yes, indeed!” in
such an eager voice that Mr. Garwick seemed
satisfied.</p>
<p>“All right,” he said. “Nine o’clock sharp, for
we’ll have a busy day before us.”</p>
<p>He opened the door for her with his pleasant
smile and Jane found herself once more in the
hot street. But with what a difference!</p>
<p>Main Street, baking in the mid-afternoon heat
of the sun, was no longer merely the main business
street of a small town. It was, to Jane’s happy
fancy, a thoroughfare of romance, and if she had
suddenly awakened to find the streets paved with
gold she would not have been surprised. So had
life changed for her in one scant half-hour!</p>
<p>“I’ve got a job! I’ve got a job!” The <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'triumphant refran'" id="tn-106">triumphant
refrain</ins> sang itself over and over again
in her mind, banishing all feeling of fatigue, filling
her with a desire to dance, to sing, to tell her
happiness to every one she met.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p>
<p>If she had encountered Betty Browning now,
her eyes would not have fallen beneath the glance
of the rich girl. She had grown immeasurably in
her own estimation during the past half-hour.
She was no longer just Plain Jane, but Plain Jane
<em>with a job at twelve dollars a week</em>, and again,
what a difference!</p>
<p>On the way home she had to pass Mason’s
store again.</p>
<p>She remembered that Mrs. Powell had said
something in the morning about needing sugar
and flour and a dozen eggs. Jane would just stop
in and see whether Mrs. Powell had been <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'to marked yet'" id="tn-107">to
market yet</ins>, and, if not, she would take the provisions
home herself.</p>
<p>She felt very gay and independent as she
opened the familiar door. A customer came out
as she entered, and for a moment the store was
empty of all but herself and Billy.</p>
<p>The latter had his back turned toward her as
he straightened some packages on the shelves and
Jane’s heart was touched by the pathetic droop of
his shoulders.</p>
<p>Billy was having a hard time of it. Nothing
had been proved against him in connection with
the Martin and Hull disaster, but he was under
a cloud, a heavy dark cloud that could not be dispelled
until some solution of the mystery had been
reached.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p>
<p>Rumors were that Martin and Hull had collected
enough insurance to permit of their building
again on a small scale. But they were both
old men, and it was hard for them to start again
at their time of life, forced as they were to pocket
a loss that made it extremely doubtful whether
the feed and grain business would ever function
again on its old-time scale of prosperity.</p>
<p>Small wonder that they were bitter against the
one they thought responsible for their misfortune.
And, to do the old men justice, they were both
firmly convinced in their hearts that Billy Dobson
was the one responsible.</p>
<p>They considered all would-be inventors slightly
mad to begin with, and they knew Billy’s excitable
temper as well as his passionate desire to find
some one who would finance his latest invention.
They fully believed that in a fit of vengeful rage
against them he had set fire to their place. What
was worse, they intended that all of Greenville
should believe it. Not all of Greenville did, of
course, but Billy was destined to remain under a
cloud, nevertheless, until his innocence was
proved.</p>
<p>“Billy!”</p>
<p>There was something so breathless and triumphant
in Jane’s voice that the lad whirled
about, half startled.</p>
<p>“Hello, Jane! What’s up?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p>
<p>“Billy, I’ve got a job—a life-sized job—with
Mr. Garwick!”</p>
<p>“With John Garwick?” asked Billy, and as
Jane nodded, whistled his amazement.</p>
<p>“Say, that’s great! But say, Jane, I didn’t
know you wanted a job!”</p>
<p>“Neither did I until a little time ago,” laughed
Jane, pleased by Billy’s unfeigned delight and astonishment.
“But now I’ve got it, wild horses
couldn’t drag me away from it. I’m so happy I
just had to tell somebody or go crazy.”</p>
<p>“I always said you were a game kid,” said Billy,
looking at her approvingly. “Now I know it.
Go in, Jane, and win!”</p>
<p>There were more customers then and no chance
for further conversation.</p>
<p>After he had done up her bundle for her, however,
Billy’s hand squeezed hers in comradely
fashion and he said under his breath:</p>
<p>“How about going to the movies some night,
Jane? I want to hear more about the big job.”</p>
<p>“All right.”</p>
<p>“How about to-morrow night?”</p>
<p>Jane nodded, and, feeling rather breathless,
hurried from the store.</p>
<p>Her first job and her first invitation to the
movies, all in one day! It was too much! Jane
thought she must burst with joy!</p>
<p>She entered the house calling for Mrs. Powell,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span>and at the sound of her voice the latter came
running.</p>
<p>One glance at Jane’s face was enough.</p>
<p>“Jane, you don’t mean to tell me you’ve got it!”</p>
<p>“Oh, Aunt Lou—here, let me get this package
out of my arms—there, now I’m going to hug
you, look out! I’ve got it; yes, I have! You
needn’t look at me as if I’d gone crazy. It’s my
first job, you know, and I’ve got to get used to the
feel of having it. Aunt Lou, aren’t you glad?
Quick! Say you’re as glad as I am!”</p>
<p>“You crazy child! If you’ll stop squeezing my
neck and let me catch my breath! There, that’s
better! Now tell me again, Jane. You’re sure
you’re not joking?”</p>
<p>So Jane told her to the minutest detail what
had happened from the moment she stepped inside
the real estate office up to that happy moment
when she stepped out of it again.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell came in from a visit to the doctor
and a redressing of his bandaged hands in time
to hear the end of the recital, and of course the
story had to be told all over again for his benefit.</p>
<p>Mr. and Mrs. Powell were very proud of
Jane and, looking upon her with fond eyes,
thought she could not have been dearer to them
if she had been their own.</p>
<p>On her part, Jane was thinking how generous
and kind they had always been to her and that
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span>nothing she could do in return could more than
partly pay her debt to them.</p>
<p>The next day, the first of Jane’s altered life,
dawned gloriously. She took this as a good omen
and sallied forth to work filled with enthusiasm
and hope.</p>
<p>“I’ve got to please him!”
<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'he told herself'" id="tn-111">she told herself</ins>, remembering
Mr. Garwick’s words of yesterday.
“I’m only on trial, really, and to lose a position I
should think would be even worse than not finding
one at all!”</p>
<p>She was even a little ahead of time, and Mr.
Garwick greeted her in friendly fashion and set
her to work at once.</p>
<p>“We won’t let any grass grow under our feet,”
he told her, with a pleasant smile. “Now let me
show you what you are to do.”</p>
<p>Half an hour later Jane was left alone with her
responsibility and the telephone—and she was not
sure which frightened her the more!</p>
<p>“If you ring,” she told the telephone, “I’ll run
a mile—Oh, my good gracious,” as the bell
rang shrilly, insistently, “there you go now!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XVI">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XVI</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A BUSINESS DAY</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>That ’phone was a nightmare to Jane that
first day. It seemed to ring incessantly—though
of course it did not—and the girl’s fingers became
tired holding the pencil.</p>
<p>Some of those disembodied voices over the wire
were so soft that Jane could scarcely hear them,
and she disliked to ask them to repeat too many
times, for fear of appearing stupid.</p>
<p>She took the messages, and, what is even more
remarkable, she took them correctly.</p>
<p>There were personal callers, too, of course,
and these interested Jane.</p>
<p>She was shy and self-conscious at first, but soon
lost this shyness and self-consciousness in the fascination
of the work she was doing.</p>
<p>It was wonderful to feel herself part of the
hum and swing of business. Seeing how much
business Mr. Garwick handled, she soon began
to take pride in her employer and in the fact
that she was his representative.</p>
<p>People who entered the real estate office of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span>John Garwick found a young woman plainly but
neatly dressed who rose to greet them pleasantly
and asked their business in a professional voice.</p>
<p>Those clients liked her and talked freely to her—more
freely, perhaps, than they would have
talked to John Garwick himself.</p>
<p>As for Jane, she took a personal interest in each
one of them and listened to the recital of their
individual problems with a flattering interest.</p>
<p>From fright at the responsibility that had been
placed on her young shoulders, Jane came to delight
in her new importance.</p>
<p>By the time Mr. Garwick returned from his
round of rent collecting, Jane’s face was flushed,
her over-neat hair rather tousled here and there.
Altogether she looked like a different girl.</p>
<p>“Well, how did you get along?” asked her employer,
with a smile. “Many people been here?
How about ’phone messages?”</p>
<p>Jane showed him her neat memorandum list of
telephone calls and the notes she had made of
personal calls.</p>
<p>“Here they all are,” she said, and added
anxiously: “I do hope they are all right!”</p>
<p>Contrary to Mr. Garwick’s expectations,
founded on rather long experience of new clerks,
they were.</p>
<p>He called up his various clients and verified
Jane’s report on them. Then he smiled at her.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p>
<p>“I see we are going to get along, young lady,”
he said. “You have done a good day’s work!”</p>
<p>Jane was happier than she had ever been in her
life as she sat beside Billy that evening in the
moving picture house and watched the impossibly
handsome hero of the picture go through impossibly
heroic “stunts” on the screen.</p>
<p>“I’m going to love the work, Billy,” she said, in
response to the latter’s sympathetic questions.
“Mr. Garwick said some mighty nice things to me
to-day, and if I don’t make him like me and my
work lots better in the next few weeks, it won’t
be because I haven’t tried!”</p>
<p>Later she attempted to get Billy to talk about
his inventions. But the youth was unexpectedly
gruff and taciturn when the subject was broached
and Jane soon dropped it.</p>
<p>“He’s discouraged—poor Billy!” she thought,
and became even more set in her determination to
help him if such a thing were possible.</p>
<p>So matters went on for about a week.</p>
<p>Jane became so different from the quiet mouse-like
girl she had been that those who knew her
best marveled.</p>
<p>She got up in the morning with a song on her
lips. She fairly danced through her dressing, the
tidying of her own room, and breakfast. She was
all smiles and sunny good humor to Mr. and Mrs.
Powell, insisted on helping the latter with the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span>dishes before she ran off to work, prophesying
the most optimistic things about Mr. Powell’s injured
hands and the probability of his soon finding
work again, and generally acting like a streak of
sunshine in the house.</p>
<p>Also, responsibility was changing her quickly
from the child she had always been, younger in
seeming than her years, to a young woman.</p>
<p>“We thought we were doing Jane a kindness
to take her in and give her a home when Sarah
Cross died,” Mrs. Powell said to her husband
one morning after Jane had run off, throwing a
kiss to them as she turned the corner on her way
to work. “If we did, we’ve surely been paid for
it. What would we do now without that girl I’d
like to know, since we’ve had such bad luck?”</p>
<p>“She’s one in a thousand,” Mr. Powell agreed.
“And if we weather this hard period, it’ll be because
of her.”</p>
<p>By this time Jane and Mr. Garwick were firm
friends. The girl was so careful, so painstaking,
so eager to learn, and, withal, so clever that the
genial realtor began to feel that he had found a
treasure. Her pay was raised to fifteen dollars
a week.</p>
<p>For one so young, Jane picked up the rudiments
of the business in a surprisingly short time, and
she handled clients or prospective clients with a
tact and ease that surprised her employer.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p>
<p>She was eager to learn details concerning the
property handled by the Garwick Agency, and several
times went out to inspect various tracts or
blocks of buildings after working hours simply
because she was interested in the business and
wanted to find out all she could about it. First,
second, and purchase mortgages became of fascinating
interest to her, and <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'she poured over'" id="tn-116">she pored over</ins>
papers and contracts until her employer laughingly
declared she would ruin her eyes and would
perhaps have to wear a pair of those great horn-rimmed
spectacles that made a young person look
like an owl.</p>
<p>Then one morning Mr. Garwick had news for
her.</p>
<p>“We’ve got a new house to list,” he says, glancing
at her oddly. “The kind of house this agency
hasn’t handled for a long while.”</p>
<p>The very word “house” was enough to rouse
Jane’s interest. She looked her question.</p>
<p>“It’s the very finest of all the places on Rose
Hill,” said Mr. Garwick. “Clyde Browning’s
house.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” The exclamation came from between
Jane’s lips. “Then—oh, why does he wish to
sell his house?”</p>
<p>“I guess it isn’t a case of wish,” said Mr. Garwick,
and Jane could see that he was genuinely
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>sorry. “It’s a case, I take it, of stark necessity.
He has to sell.”</p>
<p>“Then it’s true,” Jane said slowly. “It’s true
what I’ve heard people say—that Mr. Browning
has lost all his money?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know much about all of it,” said Mr.
Garwick, tapping thoughtfully with his pencil on
the edge of his desk. “I imagine he must have
some left. But not nearly enough to keep up that
big house on the hill with its servants and motor
cars. It will be quite a come down for Browning,
and I’m sorry. He’s always been a good fellow
and a mighty popular one in town. Every one
likes him—and pities him.”</p>
<p>“Because he’s lost his money?” Jane asked.</p>
<p>“That, of course.” Mr. Garwick nodded, but
his face darkened as he added: “What Browning
is to be most pitied for are those two selfish extravagant
women of his. They’ll do nothing to
help him through this crisis, you can bank on
that.”</p>
<p>Jane was silent for a moment. She was thinking
of Betty Browning—of the pretty, petulant
face, the disdainful, almost rude manner of the
girl who had lived in the finest house on Rose
Hill.</p>
<p>Jane had no reason to love Betty Browning.
Yet, being Jane, she took no pleasure in the contemplation
of the downfall of the pretty, spoiled
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span>girl. She felt only how hard it would be for a
person like that to meet poverty and accustom
herself to it.</p>
<p>She said something of this to Mr. Garwick, and
he looked at her curiously.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t waste any pity on conceited doll-faced
Betty Browning,” he said, with a grimace
of distaste. “From the airs that girl puts on, any
one might think she owned Greenville. No, I’m
not in the least sorry for her or for that extravagant
selfish mother of hers. I’m thinking of
Browning, and I tell you I wouldn’t be in that
fellow’s shoes just now for a million dollars!”</p>
<p>Outside of business hours Jane thought of
little else that day and for many days to follow.</p>
<p>The beautiful house on Rose Hill to be sold!
Betty Browning no longer able to lord it over the
small town like a royal princess! What would
she do?</p>
<p>Meanwhile, that was the very thing that Betty
Browning was wondering, pretty Betty in the
big house on Rose Hill.</p>
<p>Since that nightmare night of the fire at Martin
and Hull’s when her world had threatened to
topple about her feet, Betty had lived in a daze
of unreality.</p>
<p>At first she hoped that her father would tell
her it had all been a big mistake—that his investments
had turned out well in spite of his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span>fears, and that the horror of financial ruin was
farther off than it had ever been.</p>
<p>But this Mr. Browning failed to do. He kept
silence, going about his business with a grim face
and set lips that told nothing. Betty watched
him covertly and wondered how her mother could
be so blind to the tragedy in his every look and
gesture.</p>
<p>Mrs. Browning conducted herself to all intents
and purposes as though the revealing conversation
of that awful night had not been. The
only sacrifice she made was to relinquish thought
of the black gown that had caught her fancy.</p>
<p>Then one day, the final blow fell.</p>
<p>A maid knocked on Betty’s door while the girl
was dressing to go out to a tea at one of the
neighboring houses on Rose Hill.</p>
<p>Betty looked very lovely in a dress the color of
a summer sky.</p>
<p>She turned to the maid and said curtly:</p>
<p>“Well, Nanette?”</p>
<p>“Mr. Browning is in the library,” said Nanette,
with a curious stare at her pretty mistress. “He
says, will you please come down at once.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XVII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XVII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">BETTY MAKES HER CHOICE</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Nothing unusual nor very alarming in this
summons, thought Betty, as she turned for a final
look at her pretty reflection in the glass.</p>
<p>Her father often called her into the library
when he had anything special to speak to her
about. The summons usually meant a row about
her allowance, she thought, with a suggestion of
a pout on her pretty mouth.</p>
<p>What if she did sometimes spend a month’s
allowance in a week? Were they not the owners
of the best house, the best cars, the most expensive
clothes in Greenville? Did they not employ the
highest-waged servants? Surely they had a position
to keep up!</p>
<p>How like your mother, Betty! Mr. Browning
would have said, and smiled could he have read his
daughter’s thoughts just then, but it would not
have been a happy smile!</p>
<p>One more fluffing up of the fair hair and with
an added droop of discontent on her pretty
mouth Betty turned toward the door.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p>
<p>Halfway there a thoughtful look came into her
eyes.</p>
<p>This summons might mean more than the ordinary
bi-monthly “row,” which Betty almost invariably
won, having her mother on her side.</p>
<p>Perhaps her father meant to break his silence
concerning his involved affairs. Perhaps the time
had come——</p>
<p>She did not complete the thought, but hurried
toward the stairway, vague panic in her heart.</p>
<p>There was the sound of voices in the library,
her mother’s petulant but controlled, her father’s,
a gruff undertone.</p>
<p>As Betty descended the stairs silence fell, and
the girl read something dreadful into that silence.</p>
<p>She knocked at the closed door of the library
and her father called a brief, “Come in.”</p>
<p>Betty stood just within the doorway and looked
upon the scene with widening eyes.</p>
<p>It was a luxurious room, this library in the
finest house on Rose Hill.</p>
<p>There was a big open fireplace where, in the
winter, burning logs blazed cheerily. The floor
was brightly polished and animal skins were scattered
in an effect of careless beauty over its
polished surface.</p>
<p>A davenport was drawn up before the fireplace,
and this, heaped with cushions, backed up
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span>against a long slender table that bore a lamp of
exquisite design and workmanship.</p>
<p>Books there were lining three sides of the
room, well-thumbed books that looked as if they
had been well read by at least one member of the
family.</p>
<p>Easy chairs were scattered about, and the
whole room bore an air of homeliness not characteristic
of the rest of the house.</p>
<p>This was Mr. Browning’s room. He had insisted
that one place in the house that had been
built with his money should be furnished according
to his taste. He loved books, and so had
chosen the library as his room.</p>
<p>In one of the big easy chairs reposed Mrs.
Browning—though Betty thought at the moment
that the expression on her mother’s face was anything
but reposeful. But since it was Mrs. Browning’s
private boast that nothing could disturb
her self-control or poise, she reclined gracefully
now, even in face of the truly devastating shock
just dealt her by her husband.</p>
<p>Mrs. Browning’s face was sullen and angry
and as her daughter entered the room she turned
away so that only her profile was visible.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning had evidently been striding up
and down the room.</p>
<p>He paused as Betty came in and motioned her
to a seat.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p>
<p>“I’ll keep you but a few moments,” he said in
a curiously hard, dry voice. “I thought you ought
to know this, Betty, and, since your mother desired
me to tell you, now is as good a time as any.”</p>
<p>Betty sat down on the edge of a chair while her
father resumed his restless pacing up and down,
up and down, the room.</p>
<p>What was he about to say? What could that
look on his face mean?</p>
<p>For several moments her father did not speak,
and the room was tense with suspense. Betty
glanced at her mother and saw that the latter
was stubbornly looking the other way. A small,
exquisitely shod foot was tapping, tapping on the
polished floor.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning came and stood before his
daughter, his eyes steadily meeting hers.</p>
<p>“The long and short of it is, Betty, I’ve lost
practically all my money. That’s the simple
truth, and the sooner we all get used to it, the
better.”</p>
<p>“Your father can speak of it like that!” Mrs.
Browning whirled about and faced her daughter,
hand upraised. “To drag us down into poverty—and
then to speak of it like that!”</p>
<p>“I—I don’t think I quite understand, dad,”
Betty was groping, bewildered. Her eyes had
never once left her father’s face. “Shall we be
really poor?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p>
<p>“I’m afraid so, Betty.” The father’s tone had
softened; there were deep unhappy lines about
his mouth. “We have very little left.”</p>
<p>“We shall have to—leave this house?” Betty
passed a hand before her eyes as though to brush
aside a curtain that obscured her sight.</p>
<p>“Assuredly.”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning was watching her intently. Even
Mrs. Browning’s foot stopped its restless tapping
as she watched, with angry attention, the scene
between father and daughter.</p>
<p>“And the servants will have to go, I suppose,”
said Betty, still groping her way. “And we can’t
have either of the cars?”</p>
<p>“Good gracious, Betty! Can’t you understand
that your father has ruined us, that he has dragged
us down to poverty!”</p>
<p>“Wait!” commanded Mr. Browning, his hand
uplifted, his eyes on Betty. “Give the girl a
chance. It’s all pretty new—and pretty rotten,
eh, Betty?”</p>
<p>“I—I don’t know.”</p>
<p>Betty got up and walked over to the window,
the eyes of both her parents following her. She
stood for a long time looking out at the beautifully
kept grounds that had, for almost as long as
she could remember, formed the boundaries of
her life and wondered what life would seem like
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>without all the luxurious things to which she had
been accustomed.</p>
<p>She had always had money, and so her imagination
failed her when she tried to consider life
without it.</p>
<p>Still, other people had no money and they
seemed to get along. When you lost your money
you didn’t just die. You must get along some
way.</p>
<p>Behind her she heard her mother recommence
her high-pitched, nagging accusations. She listened
to them absently, still turning the problem
over and over in her own mind, trying to understand.</p>
<p>“You have always been reckless,” she heard
her mother say. “You have always taken chances
with your money——”</p>
<p>“And those chances made us a fortune,” her
father interrupted, in hopeless, dogged tones.</p>
<p>“Yes, and where is it now? I always told you
you would lose everything you had if you didn’t
stop gambling.”</p>
<p>“Who was it drove me on and on to wilder
chances by extravagance, by demands out of all
proportion to my income? But this must stop,”
he caught himself up harshly. “Recriminations
never did help, and they can’t help now. The
fact is that we shall have to give up this house
at once.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p>
<p>“Now?” cried his wife, startled from her languid
pose. “Why, that’s impossible!”</p>
<p>“At once!” repeated Mr. Browning, as though
he had not heard her. “Everything else must go.
Our two cars, servants, everything.”</p>
<p>“I never heard such nonsense! Give up both
cars? Never!”</p>
<p>“Then what are you going to do, dad?”
Betty spoke quietly from the window, startling
her parents to attention.</p>
<p>“I am going into business,” said Mr. Browning
with a promptness that showed he had thought
the thing out long before. “And I am going to
start right in this town where I first made my
money.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Browning gave a shriek and sank back
among the cushions.</p>
<p>“Oh, the disgrace! The disgrace of it!” she
moaned. “I shall never be able to hold up my
head again!”</p>
<p>“Oh, mother, don’t! Can’t you see how you
are worrying dad?”</p>
<p>“Worrying him?” Mrs. Browning looked at
her daughter in honest bewilderment. “You can
speak of worrying him after what he has done
to me—to us! Have you no thought for yourself,
if you cannot consider your poor mother?”</p>
<p>“Why,” said Betty, her eyes wandering to the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span>grim, haunted-eyed face of her father, “just then
I was thinking of dad!”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning tried to speak, but sank down
heavily in a chair near the table, holding his head
in his hands.</p>
<p>The drooping of his shoulders, the struggling
of emotion she had seen in his lined face before
he hid it from her, did something queer to Betty.</p>
<p>She could see with a sudden startling plainness
all that her father had passed through during
that last week or two, could see that he had faced
his trouble all alone, but bravely. There had
been no one to care, no one to help him, no one
to do anything but blame and reproach him.</p>
<p>Slowly she crossed the room and laid a hand
on his broad shoulder.</p>
<p>“It must have been awfully hard, dad. I’m
sorry.”</p>
<p>“Sorry—for me, Betty?” Mr. Browning
looked up incredulously into the lovely face of
his daughter. His fingers reached up until they
grasped the slender hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“So sorry, dad! Is there anything I can do to
help?”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XVIII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A DREADFUL DISCOVERY</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>The look that dawned in her father’s face,
Betty Browning was to remember for many a
long day. The face that had been so stern and
set softened magically.</p>
<p>“So you want to help, do you, Betty? You
want to help your old dad?”</p>
<p>Betty nodded, and Mr. Browning got up suddenly
and walked to the window.</p>
<p>He stood for a moment, looking, but seeing
nothing, then turned and held out his arms.</p>
<p>“Come here, Betty,” he said in a voice that,
for all his failure, had a ring of triumph in it.
“Come here and get hugged!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Browning could not understand. She was
honestly bewildered by Betty’s attitude, by what
she called her “desertion.”</p>
<p>“No one sympathizes with me,” she moaned.
“No one! The fact that I must give up my home,
my servants, my cars, means nothing to any one.
Betty, to whom it should mean as much as it
means to me, seems to think it will all be a pleasant
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>adventure, losing everything and being as
poor as church mice!”</p>
<p>“I don’t expect it to be pleasant,” Betty began
patiently, only to have her mother wave her aside
with an angry, impatient gesture.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t speak to me! Don’t talk to me!
I know just how it is! Don’t think I can’t understand!
You care more for your father than you
do for me! You will stand up for him, no matter
what he has done!”</p>
<p>“But he hasn’t done anything, purposely,”
Betty cried, exasperated, only to have her mother
throw up her hands and moan:</p>
<p>“You see? She stands up for her father
against everything and everybody—even her poor
mother!”</p>
<p>Against this, of course, Betty could do nothing.
Nor could Mr. Browning. They gave up trying
after a while and left Mrs. Browning to her lamentations,
while together, father and daughter,
they tried to pick up the pieces of their ruined
fortunes in the hope of salvaging something from
the wreck.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Jane was very busy in Mr. Garwick’s
office. While she wondered a great deal
about unfortunate Mr. Browning and his pretty
daughter, she heard nothing further concerning
them and so allowed herself to become absorbed
in her work.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p>
<p>She saw a great deal of Billy, even though she
knew that Greenville talked about her friendship
with him and was prone to extend the dark cloud
of suspicion that hovered over him to include her
also if she flaunted her championship of him too
openly.</p>
<p>The Powell front porch became a veritable
“parking place” for Billy, as he himself expressed
it. While both Mr. and Mrs. Powell liked the
young fellow very much and were in their hearts
convinced that Billy knew no more of the origin
of the Martin and Hull fire than they did themselves,
they disliked to see Jane too intimate with
him.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell ventured a gentle protest one night,
but Jane flamed out right royally in defense of
her friend and Mr. Powell retired, defeated, in
chuckling admiration of her loyalty.</p>
<p>“She’s true blue, that girl,” he told his wife.
“I took a chance for her sake. But I’m glad she
didn’t listen to me. I’d have thought the worse
of her for it if she had.”</p>
<p>Then came the wonderful day when Mr. Garwick
gave Jane her second increase in salary.
This gave her twenty dollars a week, and it
wafted Jane to the seventh heaven of delight and
hopefulness.</p>
<p>Without saying anything to anybody, Jane
started a little fund.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p>
<p>“We managed to get along fairly well on my
salary before I got the increase,” she told herself,
experiencing all the delight of a cheerful
conspirator. “It won’t be so very long before I
have quite a little sum, and then—oh just wait
till I tell Billy!”</p>
<p>After that she worked harder than ever for
her employer. Mr. Garwick came more and
more to depend upon the quick-witted sensible
girl. He even began to discuss little business
problems with her that bothered him and was
amazed and delighted by her quick grasp of the
subject and her clear reasoning.</p>
<p>As a matter of fact, Jane was head over ears
in love with the business and welcomed the occasional
confidences of Mr. Garwick more eagerly
than she would the reading of an adventure story—and
Jane loved stories of adventure, especially
when there was a spice of mystery in them.</p>
<p>Delighted at the eager interest of his young
assistant, Mr. Garwick initiated her more and
more into his confidences until there came a day
when he admitted to his wife that he scarcely
knew who ran the business, himself or Jane!</p>
<p>While she lost herself in her absorbing work,
things were happening in the Powell cottage that
were to effect Jane’s entire future.</p>
<p>When Mrs. Cross had died in Coal Run, leaving
Jane to the kindly Mrs. Powell’s care, there
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span>had been a trunk of the girl’s things that were to
be used for Jane by Mrs. Powell as the latter saw
fit.</p>
<p>The trunk had remained in the Powell’s storeroom
from that day, untouched and practically
forgotten. Jane, who knew of her mother’s
habit of saving practically worthless things, had
felt no interest in it. When they moved from
Coal Run the trunk had come too, and had been
put in the open attic of the new house.</p>
<p>It would in all probability have remained there
indefinitely, to be covered with dust and cobwebs
and finally forgotten if Mrs. Powell had not
been reminded of it by necessity.</p>
<p>Jane must have clothes. That much was certain,
but where to get them was the problem.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell thought that she could do with
her old clothes at home, but Jane, as temporary
wage-earner of the family, should be well dressed—if
such a thing were possible.</p>
<p>Dubiously, Mrs. Powell examined her own
wardrobe and Jane’s, only to decide finally that
they were hopeless. Everything Jane had, had
been changed and made over and dyed so often
that they were only fit now for the rag-bag.</p>
<p>“Poor child, she must have some new clothes!
But how?”</p>
<p>It was here that Mrs. Powell thought of the
old trunk in the attic.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p>
<p>“Just the very thing! Why didn’t I think of
it before?”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell had the key of the trunk somewhere.
It took her a considerable time to find it,
but finally, armed and triumphant, she ascended
to the attic to examine the things left by Mrs.
Cross.</p>
<p>There was something almost eerie about the
proceeding. The attic seemed very close and
dusty, the silence of the empty house oppressive
as Mrs. Powell fitted the key in the lock of the
trunk and flung back the lid.</p>
<p>The contents lay revealed to her, clothing
neatly folded, laid there by the hands of the dead
woman.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell felt a curious reluctance to disturb
those things. She wanted suddenly to close
the lid of the trunk, lock it, and leave the trunk,
contents and all, to the accumulative cobwebs and
dust of the attic.</p>
<p>“Nonsense!” she scolded, ashamed of her
mood. “The things belong to Jane, they were
to be used for her. Don’t be such a fool, Lou
Powell!”</p>
<p>She took out layer after layer of faded, worn
dresses, things that had been carefully laid away
by a careful woman as having some possible use
in time to come.</p>
<p>“Nothing for Jane here,” Mrs. Powell muttered,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>disappointed. “The clothes she has now
are better than these old things. Hello—what’s
this?”</p>
<p>“This” was a carefully folded piece of dark
blue serge.</p>
<p>Here was a discovery! Enough for a new
dress for Jane, probably.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell shook it out eagerly, and to her
amazement a large white envelope fell from the
folds of it.</p>
<p>She picked up the envelope curiously and examined
the words that were scrawled across it in
pencil.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“To be read by Jane’s guardian and the contents
to be disclosed to Jane, should the guardian
see fit.</p>
<p class="right">
“Sarah Cross.”
</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Mrs. Powell stared at the envelope for a long
time, her brow wrinkled with bewilderment.
Then, suddenly making up her mind, she tore
open the flap of the envelope and drew forth a
folded slip of paper.</p>
<p>Whatever the message of the dead woman, it
disturbed Mrs. Powell profoundly.</p>
<p>She read and re-read the words on the paper,
the frown on her face growing, the look of pain
in her eyes deepening.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p>
<p>“My poor Jane! My poor, dear, loyal little
Jane. Oh, this is dreadful, dreadful!” she
moaned.</p>
<p>She sat there on the floor of the attic, the bit
of paper in her hand, until the lengthening
shadows warned her that the afternoon was
almost gone.</p>
<p>She roused herself then and, with a deep sigh,
she thrust the paper back into the envelope.</p>
<p>“Awful, awful! What shall I do?”</p>
<p>Automatically she replaced the faded dresses
in the trunk, keeping out only the piece of dark
serge that was to make Jane the much-needed new
dress.</p>
<p>Then she rose wearily and stumbled down the
steep steps of the attic.</p>
<p>She went into Jane’s room, that little barrack
of a room with the one window where the sun
seldom penetrated. Slowly Mrs. Powell looked
about the room. In spite of its bareness, it was
neat, clean, cheerful—like Jane herself.</p>
<p>“Dear child! I can’t tell her! I won’t tell
her! Why, it would break her heart!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XIX">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XIX</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A CHANGE OF EMPLOYERS</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>All unconscious that anything unusual had
happened, Jane came home that night, beaming
with happiness.</p>
<p>“Everything is going so beautifully at the
office,” she told her kind friend, and added, as she
took off her hat and put on her apron preparatory
to helping with the dinner:</p>
<p>“What do you think? Pretty Betty Browning’s
house has been sold!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell put down the potato masher and
looked at Jane thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“Is that so? Who bought it?” she asked.</p>
<p>“A man named Ridgeway. I understand from
Mr. Garwick that he is a business acquaintance
of Mr. Browning’s. Anyway,” with a smile, “he
seemed to have plenty of money. And I guess he
had to have, to be able to buy the Browning place.
He paid a big price for it, I can tell you.”</p>
<p>“H’m!” Mrs. Powell was thoughtful for some
time. Then she said slowly: “I wonder what the
Browning family will do now.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Jane took off the cover of
the teapot to see if she had filled it too full, found
she had, and poured out some of the amber-colored
liquid. “They may take a small house
in town, I suppose.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell gave a short, scornful laugh.</p>
<p>“I can’t imagine Mrs. Browning being content
to live in a small house anywhere,” she said.
“And from all I can hear, that daughter of hers
is just like her. I feel sorry for poor Mr. Browning,
I tell you!”</p>
<p>In spite of the fact that she tried to keep up a
cheerful conversation, Jane could see that Mrs.
Powell was worried about something and several
times tried to draw her around to the subject.</p>
<p>But Mrs. Powell insisted there was nothing at
all the matter—except perhaps with Jane’s imagination!</p>
<p>“How can I tell you what’s troubling me, Jane
Cross, when there isn’t a thing?” she cried at last
in simulated exasperation.</p>
<p>Faced with this unanswerable query, Jane was
silenced, but unconvinced. Mrs. Powell found
the girl looking thoughtfully at her several times
that evening and realized that she must guard her
secret very carefully if she was to guard it at all!</p>
<p>After that several days passed uneventfully—though
they were always eventful enough for
Jane, absorbed as she was in the fascination of her
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span>work. The only cloud on the girl’s horizon at
this time was Billy.</p>
<p>The young man was downhearted and morose
much of the time. When he was out with her his
attempts at cheerfulness were pathetic. He would
not talk about his inventions, and Jane was afraid
that he had become definitely discouraged.</p>
<p>She thought wistfully of the little pile of money
growing in her bureau drawer. It grew so slowly
and Billy’s need was so great! If she could only
think of a way to make a big sum of money all
at once!</p>
<p>Poor Jane! How many people before her
had felt that way and been just as hopeless as she
of attaining their heart’s desire!</p>
<p>Jane was bitter against the people of Greenville
for treating Billy so. Why could not some one
with money see the real worth of his inventions
as she did and believe in him enough to back him
and give him his chance? If she could only
prove him innocent of any connection with the
Martin and Hull fire some one might give him
that chance. But in this she was powerless, too.</p>
<p>Then one day Mr. Garwick brought startling
news to her.</p>
<p>Jane had barely entered the office and taken
off her hat when he announced it.</p>
<p>“I’m going to sell out, Jane,” he said, holding
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span>her with his twinkling gaze. “You are going to
have a new boss.”</p>
<p>Jane stared at him for a moment, thinking he
must be joking.</p>
<p>“A new boss!” she repeated dazedly. “Why,
I don’t understand!”</p>
<p>“I’ve sold out the business,” Mr. Garwick repeated,
enjoying her mystification. “I’ve sold
out to Clyde Browning!”</p>
<p>Jane sat down hard in a chair. If Mr. Garwick
had told her the world was coming to an
end she could not have been much more surprised,
nor startled.</p>
<p>“But why? I don’t understand!” she cried.</p>
<p>“Well, now, I’ll tell you.” Mr. Garwick put
the tips of his fingers together as he always did
when about to launch into an explanation of some
importance. “I’m getting old, Jane——”</p>
<p>“Old!” cried Jane impulsively. “Oh, you’re
not!”</p>
<p>Mr. Garwick pretended to smile at this, but he
was pleased just the same.</p>
<p>“You are a flatterer, young woman, but we’ll
let that pass. Even if I’m not old, I often feel
old and pretty tired. I want to rest a little,
travel, and see something of the world; in other
words get a little good out of the money I’ve been
piling up all these years. Do you see?”</p>
<p>“Why, yes—but I—oh, I’m sorry! We—I—I
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span>was so happy working for you, Mr. Garwick!”</p>
<p>Mr. Garwick was touched by her sincerity.
He patted her hand in fatherly fashion and smiled
on her with genuine affection.</p>
<p>“Well, there, Jane, I’m glad you’ve been happy
in your work and that I’ve been able to make
things pleasant for you. But this won’t be a
question at all of your losing your position, you
know.”</p>
<p>Jane looked at him questioningly.</p>
<p>“Why, I don’t know what you mean?” she said
slowly. “Do you think that after Mr. Browning
has taken over the business he’ll want me here?”</p>
<p>“I’m quite sure of it—especially when I tell
your new boss that he has a chance of getting the
best go-getter in the business. That’s what I’m
going to tell him, Jane. And furthermore,” he
paused and regarded her with twinkling eyes, “I
don’t know but what I’ll make that a provision of
the sale. Take Jane Cross, too, or nothing!”</p>
<p>Jane laughed, unsteadily.</p>
<p>“You’re awfully kind,” she said in a low voice.
“I don’t know how to thank you for all your
kindness, but—it won’t seem the same at all!”</p>
<p>She met Billy on the way home from work that
evening and talked it over with him.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t let it worry me much,” said the
latter reassuringly. “Mr. Garwick meant what
he said about recommending you to Mr. Browning.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span>He’s a mighty good sort, Jane, and I’ve not
a bit of doubt that after he gets through talking,
Mr. Browning will be only too glad to get you.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Garwick is awfully good,” said Jane
thoughtfully, her eyes on the street ahead. “And
from what I’ve seen and heard of Mr. Browning,
he’s a mighty nice man, too. I might be able to
keep my position there if it wasn’t for——”</p>
<p>She paused, and Billy looked at her curiously.</p>
<p>“I bet you’re thinking of Betty Browning,” he
said after a minute. Then he added: “Don’t
worry, Jane. Pretty Betty isn’t going to stick
her curly head into old dad’s office. I heard
some people in the store to-day say that Mrs.
Browning has already gone to some relatives out
of town, and I’ve no doubt our lovely Betty will
soon follow. Soft, rich folks like those, Jane,
don’t show up very well when they have to come
up against a few of the hard knocks of life,” he
philosophized, kicking a stone out of the way and
watching it intently as it went spinning over and
over in the roadway. “They don’t know how to
take ’em—the hard knocks, that is—and their
first instinct is to get as far from the scene of
disaster as possible. Oh, no, Betty’ll be flying to
those rich relatives of hers, don’t you worry, and
she won’t even know that there is such a person as
Jane Cross in her dad’s office.”</p>
<p>“They’ve sold their house, Billy. Do you know
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span>where they are going to live? Oh, yes, I remember!
Mr. Garwick said they were making a deal
for that empty cottage on Maple Street where the
Devoes used to live.”</p>
<p>Billy whistled softly.</p>
<p>“Quite a change from Rose Hill!” he said.
“Poor old Browning! I sure pity him!”</p>
<p>Jane was very thoughtful for the rest of that
evening and for the next few days—the time that
had necessarily to elapse before the final consummation
of the deal between Mr. Garwick and
Clyde Browning.</p>
<p>Jane hoped that Billy had been right about
Betty, but she was not by any means sure.</p>
<p>Then one day her employer and Mr. Browning
came into the office, laughing and joking in
friendly fashion.</p>
<p>“Browning,” said Mr. Garwick, turning to
Jane with his pleasant, twinkling smile, “this is
the young lady I’ve been telling you about and
whose services you can’t afford to lose. Miss
Cross—Mr. Browning!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XX">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XX</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">BETTY COMES THROUGH</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Apparently Jane was very much at ease as
she gave her hand to Mr. Browning and smiled
at him. In reality she was only a frightened girl
wondering what would happen next.</p>
<p>But Mr. Browning was very nice, very courteous
and pleasant, and before they had been in
conversation five minutes Jane felt that they
would get along together and that the change
she had so dreaded was not going to be so dreadful
after all.</p>
<p>For the rest of that day Jane remained in almost
complete charge of the office while her old
employer and new went over details of the business
together.</p>
<p>Mr. Garwick was very nice, often referring to
her and asking her for certain details that he
knew she had right at her tongue’s end.</p>
<p>Jane felt that he was doing this to impress Mr.
Browning with her worth, and she appreciated
and in her heart thanked him for it even while
tears of regret rose often to her eyes at thought
of severing the old connection.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p>
<p>The day was over at last. Mr. Garwick
slapped down a huge sheaf of papers on the desk
and rose to his feet. He held out a hand to Mr.
Browning.</p>
<p>Jane watched them, her heart beating rapidly,
knowing that the moment of parting had come.</p>
<p>“Well, I’ve done all I can for you, Browning,”
Mr. Garwick said, as the two men shook hands
heartily. “If there’s anything you want to know
about, you know where you can get in touch with
me at a moment’s notice. Although,” and here
he turned to Jane, “I’m quite sure you will find
I am leaving you a veritable dictionary of information
in the person of Miss Cross here. Call
on her for anything, Browning, and if you’re ever
disappointed in her, then my name’s not John
Garwick!”</p>
<p>Feeling embarrassed but very grateful to her
old employer, Jane found herself shaking hands
with him and saying with a little catch behind the
words:</p>
<p>“Thank you for—everything, Mr. Garwick.
I wish you the best luck in the world!”</p>
<p>There was a pleasant response, and then the
door closed behind John Garwick and Jane was
left alone with her new employer.</p>
<p>“Well, Miss Cross,” Mr. Browning was speaking
and Jane liked the way he included her in his
sweeping gesture about the office, “we seem to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span>have been left in possession of the field. We’ve
done about enough work for one day, I should
think. Suppose we close the office and start fresh
again to-morrow morning?”</p>
<p>Jane gave him a smile that said she would be
perfectly willing, and went for her hat. She put
it on and went toward the door. Mr. Browning
rose and came over to her, holding out his hand.</p>
<p>“Mr. Garwick has given me a most excellent
recommendation of you,” he said. Jane thought
how handsome he was but how tired he looked
with those deep lines about the corners of his
mouth. “I am convinced that I could not have a
worthier helper than Miss Jane Cross. I hope
you will find things just as pleasant here as you
did under Mr. Garwick’s regime.”</p>
<p>Jane thanked him and went out. She was very
thoughtful all the way home.</p>
<p>“I like him—and I’m very sorry for him,” she
told herself, remembering the lines of suffering
in the face of her new employer. “What a shame
that his wife and daughter can’t stand by him
now! I’d like to go to that Betty Browning and
give her a piece of my mind!”</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the subject of Jane’s rather strenuous
reflections was living through a period in her
life that seemed to the former rich girl as bewildering
and tantalizing as a dream.</p>
<p>Her solid world had been knocked from beneath
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span>her feet. Everything was new, unreal.
The only solid fact of her existence was her
father, and to him she clung with a desperation
that soon ripened into a beautiful affection.</p>
<p>“I never knew dad before,” she told herself,
wondering. “He seemed always to be there, but
I just never—thought about him!”</p>
<p>That had been the fault of her up-bringing,
though Betty did not realize it. Brought close to
the hard facts of existence, she could see her
father as an individual, not merely the holder of
the money-bags to whom one went when the allowance
ran short and a new dress seemed an
absolute necessity.</p>
<p>Viewed as an individual, Betty found her
father very interesting and, more than anything
else, lovable. He responded to her new personal
dependence upon him in a wonderful way, and
Betty began to wonder vaguely if, in losing everything
she had heretofore regarded as necessary
to her very existence, she had not found something
far more precious and desirable in the new
relationship between herself and her father.</p>
<p>The parting with her mother was a wrench—a
bad one. Betty loved her mother despite the
fact that she was bewildered by the selfish indifference
with which she treated the man who
had suffered so much.</p>
<p>Mrs. Browning’s father had evidently known
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span>his daughter, and he had left her the little he
had to leave in the form of an annuity. It was a
meager income according to Mrs. Browning’s
standards, but at least it would not leave her a
penniless dependent on her relatives, to whom
she now went for the sake of the ease and luxury
of their homes and to escape the narrow life her
husband could give her in the little cottage.</p>
<p>“You don’t think of dad at all, mother,” Betty
protested the day before Mrs. Browning was to
leave Greenville for an indefinite stay with her
relatives. “Don’t you suppose he is having a
bad time, at all?”</p>
<p>“He deserves it,” Mrs. Browning snapped back
at her. “He has been criminally careless, and he
deserves everything he gets! In a case like this
it’s the innocent family that suffers every time.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know as we have been so innocent,”
said Betty slowly.</p>
<p>Her mother whirled about and stared at her
for all the world, thought Betty, as though she
were looking at a stranger. And so she was, for
Mrs. Browning, who thought she knew her
daughter so well, was looking at this Betty for
the first time.</p>
<p>“Not innocent! What do you mean, Elizabeth?”</p>
<p>Betty turned and met her mother’s cold glance
steadily.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p>
<p>“Well, we have gone on spending money just
the same, haven’t we?” said the girl. “Even
when dad said we were too extravagant and asked
us to be careful, we never tried to help him. I
am only trying to say,” she added, seeing that her
mother’s stony gaze never wavered from her,
“that perhaps dad isn’t altogether to blame for—what
happened.”</p>
<p>“This is your father’s work,” said Mrs. Browning
angrily. “He has turned you against me!”</p>
<p>“Oh, never!” cried Betty. “He has never said
a word!”</p>
<p>“Silence!” Mrs. Browning held up a white,
jeweled hand—she had refused to part with any
of her jewels. “I’ll not listen to another word.
If you prefer your father to me, Elizabeth, you
are free to make your choice. Stay here with him—and
may you enjoy the experience more than I
think you will!”</p>
<p>That was the first wrench. The second came
with the actual selling and vacating of their house.</p>
<p>That was hard, for pretty Betty had loved her
home, and the thought of moving into strange
quarters, poor ones, filled her with terror.</p>
<p>She shrank from the solicitude of her friends.
Some of them, to whom the social leadership of
the Brownings had always been a thorn in the
flesh, gloated almost openly. Others pretended
sympathy and patronizingly gave Betty to understand
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span>that a mere loss of fortune need make no
difference in their relations.</p>
<p>But it scarcely mattered which group they belonged
to, for Betty was to realize with an aching
sense of loss that among all her so-called friends
there was not one—not one!—who had an actual
claim to that term! She began to realize dimly
that just as she had failed to think of her father,
so she had failed, by her selfishness, to make true
and lasting friends.</p>
<p>She came to long only for the time when she
and her father might be alone together in whatever
place he might choose for them. There
would be some privacy at least, a place where they
could shut the door against the cruel curiosity of
their “friends.”</p>
<p>Again her father was the only solid, real, unchanging
thing on her horizon.</p>
<p>Despite his absorption in the winding up of his
affairs and preparation for a new start in business,
he watched her closely with those understanding
eyes of his and seemed ever at her side
when she needed comfort.</p>
<p>There was that time after Gladys Vane had
been to call and had left Betty wincing beneath
the venomous thrusts of her poisonous tongue.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning came in as Gladys went out.
He made straight for the library and found Betty
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span>crouched in one of the big chairs, staring unseeingly
before her.</p>
<p>“Never mind, Betty,” her father said and
touched her cheek gently as he sat on the arm of
her chair. “The life we’re going to, you and I,
may not be as glittery as the one we’re leaving
but it’s a lot more real. You will make real
friends from now on, Betty girl, friends that are
worthy of the name.”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Betty bravely as she cuddled her
cheek against his hand, “I’ve got one mighty good
friend, already! Daddy,” she added after a
pause, “I don’t see quite how it was, but I guess
it was in part my fault. I wasn’t always nice to
the girls, and if we don’t give friendship I suppose
we don’t get it—not the real kind.”</p>
<p>Then there was the day when they were to
move into their “new quarters” as Mr. Browning
always called the cottage he had rented for himself
and Betty.</p>
<p>Betty had never seen it—she could not bring
herself to speak of it even to her father.</p>
<p>No one ever learned how she had pictured the
place in her mind, nor just what kind of life she
thought she was to be called upon to endure, now
that they were poor.</p>
<p>Her mother had so harped upon their poverty
and pictured the horrors of it so vividly that it
was not at all strange if, in trying to picture it to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span>herself, Betty beheld in her mind the ugly vision
of the tenements across the railroad where herded
a drifting, lazy class of occasional workers and
sometimes beggars of Greenville with their slipshod
families.</p>
<p>However that may be, when the day of her
actual parting with the old life arrived Betty
found herself in sore need of comfort.</p>
<p>She was standing by the window in her own
sitting room, watching for the van that was to
take a few—a very few—of their belongings to
the new home, when she heard her father’s quick
step in the hall.</p>
<p>Betty felt her father’s hands on her shoulders,
turning her about so that she must face him.
There were telltale tears in her eyes, but she
smiled, hoping that he would not notice them.</p>
<p>He did notice them, as he noticed everything
about her now. The lines about his eyes and
mouth deepened and he looked very tired, almost
old.</p>
<p>“The van will be here in a few minutes, Betty,”
he said. “And before it comes, I want to tell you
a few things about our new home—I want to prepare
you.”</p>
<p>“It’s coming!” thought Betty. She braced
her shoulders for the shock, but even then did
not forget to smile. How tired he looked, how
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>weary and discouraged. She would not make
things harder for him!</p>
<p>“It’s very different from this; but it’s not so
bad, Betty. It’s a little cottage set well back from
the street, and it has five rooms in it that could
be made into a home—if anybody cared—” His
voice broke but he went on quickly. “It has a
pleasant kitchen and a nice porch with neglected
roses that might be coaxed into blooming sometime—perhaps
next spring. It isn’t so bad, Bettykin.
We might be pretty happy there——”</p>
<p>Looking into his pleading, tired eyes, Betty
forgot herself, forgot everything but that he was
appealing to her for hope and comfort and that
she must not fail him.</p>
<p>“Why, then, daddy,” she said, putting her arms
about him, “I’ll make a home for you. We’ll
make it together. And, daddy dear, I do love
roses!”</p>
<p>If Betty had wanted any reward she got it
in the strength of his arms about her and his
muffled cry.</p>
<p>“Betty, I knew you had it in you—you good
little sport!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XXI">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XXI</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">THE NEW HOME</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>That was the beginning of a happier time for
Betty Browning.</p>
<p>After having imagined such terrible things
about her new home, she found the reality
strangely unappalling.</p>
<p>The cottage, set well back from the street, was
not pretentious, certainly, but neither was it unbeautiful.
It had a good-natured, flat, comfortable
look like a fat, jolly, woman who needs only
a white apron to make her perfect.</p>
<p>A coat of paint—white paint—thought Betty,
would work wonders.</p>
<p>Inside the rooms were pleasant. Bare at first,
of course, but the distribution of the furniture
brought from the house on Rose Hill soon remedied
that.</p>
<p>Betty took a curious delight in putting the new
home to rights. If any one had told her two
months before that she would actually enjoy
swathing herself in an unbecoming gingham apron
and doing tasks that then the more superior of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span>her mother’s servants would have scorned, she
would have laughed at the joker.</p>
<p>But she did enjoy these things now, not so
much for the sake of the tasks themselves as in her
anticipation of the smile on her father’s tired
face when, in triumph, she brought him in to exclaim
over some further proof of her unsuspected
housewifely talents.</p>
<p>He never failed to exclaim and, even on the
occasions when the roast was overdone or the
biscuits underdone, ate on manfully under Betty’s
half-proud, half-fearful eye. In thinking of it
afterward, Betty was convinced that he would
have died of indigestion if need be, rather than
disappoint her in the slightest thing!</p>
<p>There were disappointments, of course, and
mistakes, some of them ludicrous and some of
them almost tragic. But, in all, it was a happy
time in which Betty and her father grew very
close together and the cottage became a real home.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, time was passing swiftly. Late
summer merged into fall, fall into early winter.</p>
<p>As Betty was Mr. Browning’s “right-hand
man” at home, so Jane had become his “right-hand
man” at the office.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell had made up the dark blue serge
she had found in the trunk—not without many
unhappy thoughts of the secret she had discovered
there at the same time.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></p>
<p>Jane needed a coat, but she would have to wait
for that. Meanwhile, the old one, carefully
brushed and mended in a place or two where its
shabbiness was most glaringly apparent, would
have to do.</p>
<p>Mr. Powell’s hands were well at last, and,
though he would always be dreadfully scarred
and the left hand would always be a trifle stiff, he
was able to look for work again.</p>
<p>The business of Martin and Hull had never
been reopened. The two old men, without the
heart to start again in the business fight, had
pocketed their losses and were living in comparative
obscurity on the outskirts of the town.</p>
<p>No chance for Mr. Powell there. But there
must be other places in town where his services
would be needed. With his usual optimism, Mr.
Powell started on the dreary round of job
hunting.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell tried to be hopeful, too. With
another wage earner in the family to lift the
burden from Jane’s shoulders, the girl could have
the clothes she needed.</p>
<p>Poor child! What if she could guess that secret
hidden in the trunk upstairs! With all her
heart, Mrs. Powell prayed that Jane might never
know it!</p>
<p>In time the day came when Betty made her
first visit to her father’s place of business.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p>
<p>In the talks between father and daughter, business
news had crept in, too. Mr. Browning had
mentioned Jane’s name occasionally, and Betty
had become faintly jealous of this assistant of
whom her father spoke in such glowing terms.</p>
<p>Betty longed to know this person, and finally
decided that there was no reason why she should
not.</p>
<p>It was on a dazzlingly bright day when the
nippy tang of fall had given place to more bitter
winter weather that Betty finally decided to visit
her father’s office.</p>
<p>Her beautiful clothes and personal jewelry
Betty had brought with her from the old life.
She had found very little use for them since she
had become her father’s housekeeper.</p>
<p>Now she took the clothes from her closet almost
with a feeling of wonder that she had ever
worn those things as a matter-of-course. She
selected a beautiful jade-green dress that set off
her brilliant fairness to perfection. Then she
found the prettiest pair of black suede slippers
she had and cobweb thin silk stockings.</p>
<p>She got out her squirrel coat with the silver
fox collar. It was a beautiful thing, that coat.
Betty thought of the many times she had worn it
with her mother, and her heart was sore.</p>
<p>Betty wanted her mother more than she confessed,
and many nights she could not sleep for
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span>wondering if that mother would ever come to her.
There was dad. He needed her, too. Was he
to be separated from his wife forever?</p>
<p>On these points Mrs. Browning herself did not
enlighten Betty. She wrote often, but her letters
were one long reproach to her daughter and the
girl received little comfort from them.</p>
<p>That her father had letters too, Betty knew.
They often came in the morning mail and Betty
put them beside her father’s plate at dinner time,
hoping that he would read them then and perhaps
tell her something that was in them.</p>
<p>But this her father never did, and when his
long silence on the subject of her mother continued
Betty began to fear that the separation between
the two people she loved best in the world was
indeed final and that she would have to choose
definitely between them in the end.</p>
<p>Now she fingered the squirrel coat caressingly,
thinking of her mother, and at last put it on and
pulled a small velvet hat of the same shade as the
coat down tight over her ears.</p>
<p>The close-fitting hat hid all but a few distracting
tendrils of golden hair. Betty arranged these
in a still more becoming fluff about her face and
regarded her reflection approvingly.</p>
<p>She was certainly as pretty a girl as one would
see in a long winter’s walk, and, to do Betty
justice, she knew it.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p>
<p>With a high heart she left the modest little
cottage looking like the daughter of a millionaire,
and walked downtown. People turned to stare
at her as she went, and those who knew her wondered
if Clyde Browning had got his money back
or made another fortune.</p>
<p>“Certainly, pretty Betty looks like ready
money!” observed one admiring youth.</p>
<p>Betty paused before the real estate office upon
whose window her father’s name was emblazoned
in large gold letters. It seemed a modest place
to the girl, and there was resentment in her
heart at the thought that her father must work
there.</p>
<p>With a toss of her head and a discontented
droop to her mouth, Betty turned the knob of
the door and entered the office.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XXII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XXII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">BETTY IS JEALOUS</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Betty was about to call out a greeting to her
father when something stopped her. That something
was the sight of her father bending over a
desk and smiling into the delighted eyes of—“that
girl!”</p>
<p>For in the flash of a second Betty recognized in
her father’s assistant that awfully plain girl who
was always stumbling against people and knocking
bundles out of their hands!</p>
<p>She was not so awfully plain now, though,
thought Betty, and was suddenly conscious of a
keen stab of jealousy.</p>
<p>“What right has that girl to look at my dad
like that!” her jealousy whispered.</p>
<p>As a matter of fact, neither Jane nor Mr.
Browning was aware of Betty’s presence at the
moment. In fact, Jane was living through one
of the most wonderful moments of her life.</p>
<p>Just a short time before Mr. Browning had
said with that nice look in his tired eyes:</p>
<p>“I believe you know almost more of the business
than I do, Miss Cross. You are a born
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span>realtor. You are so full of enthusiasm that you
communicate it to our customers. I’ve kept tabs
on you, young lady, and I know that you have
brought actual business into this office, and that
that business is computed in terms of gratifying
profit on our books. We are doing well—better
than I dared to hope. Now, under the circumstances,
what do you think I ought to do about
it?”</p>
<p>Jane, who had flushed beneath her employer’s
commendation, smiled demurely at this.</p>
<p>“I really—don’t know,” she said, and tried not
to look as pleased and proud as she felt.</p>
<p>“Well then, I’ll tell you.”</p>
<p>It was at this point that Mr. Browning rose
and went over to her desk—yes, Jane had risen
to the dignity of a desk of her own by this time—and
it was at this point also that Betty chanced
to come into the office.</p>
<p>“The first thing I’m going to do,” Betty heard
her father’s pleasant voice say, “is to raise your
salary five dollars a week.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Browning, that—that’s marvelous!”
There was a choke of sheer joy in Jane’s voice.</p>
<p>But Mr. Browning raised a hand and smiled.</p>
<p>“But that isn’t all,” he said. “I’ve noticed,
too, that you have a knack in handling people, of
getting a lot out of them without letting them
guess it. I don’t know whether you’ve guessed
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span>what a valuable asset that is in the real estate
business, but it is extremely valuable just the
same—especially when it comes to a question of
collecting rents.”</p>
<p>Jane sat very still and looked at him.</p>
<p>Betty stood very still and looked at him, too.
Probably that is the reason Mr. Browning and
Jane remained unaware of her presence.</p>
<p>“How would you like to have a rent route to
collect?” asked Jane’s employer, smiling at her
just as calmly as if he were not paying her the
greatest compliment in his power. “That will
mean a small percentage on all the rents you collect—just
a little encouragement for you to use all
your tact on those slippery customers who invariably
run and hide the moment a rent-collector
shows his—or her—nose about the corner. Come
now—what do you say?”</p>
<p>Jane drew a long breath.</p>
<p>“Say!” she repeated. “What can I say except
that you are giving me the chance of a lifetime,
and I—when shall I start?”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning laughed and broke the tension.</p>
<p>Betty started forward from her place beside
the door.</p>
<p>“Dad!” she cried.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning wheeled about and his face lit
up with pleasure at the unexpected visit.</p>
<p>Jane, who had flushed a bright red upon recognizing
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>Betty, busied herself absorbedly with the
papers on her desk.</p>
<p>But after his first greeting of his daughter,
Mr. Browning showed no intention of leaving
Jane out of things. He drew Betty, the latter
reluctant but not quite liking to protest, over to
Jane’s desk and introduced the two girls.</p>
<p>There was the barest conventional murmur
from Jane accompanied by a steady look at Betty
that showed her on the defensive. From Betty
a condescending nod and a frigid, “Charmed, I’m
sure!” that etched a line between her father’s
brows.</p>
<p>Then Betty promptly and pointedly ignored the
plain girl. It was time, she thought, to teach that
girl a lesson, to put her in her place! So Betty
perched herself like a charming butterfly on the
edge of her father’s desk and chatted merrily.</p>
<p>She found her father disappointing. He did
not play up to her mood. After his first pleased
greeting of her he became moody and distrait
and did not seem to hear half of what she said.</p>
<p>When Betty taxed him with this a little pettishly
he looked up at her and smiled, the old
patient, tired look in his eyes.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to bear with me, my dear,” he
said. “It’s been a very busy day and there is still
a great deal to do before I can relax. Just a
moment, daughter.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p>
<p>He swung about in his chair and his glance fell
on Jane. The girl met his look, smiled and half
rose.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to see Mr. Bleeker now and
arrange for his lease?” she asked, in her clear
bright voice.</p>
<p>“If you please.” Another sharp pang of jealousy
stabbed Betty as she saw how the tired look
left her father’s eyes as he spoke to this other
girl, how his shoulders straightened and the years
seemed to fall from him.</p>
<p>“And while you’re out, Miss Cross, you might
just scout about a bit and get used to your rent
route. You won’t be able to do much to-day—in
the way of collecting rents I mean—although
you might try your hand at it if you like. Here,
I’ll give you that list of addresses——”</p>
<p>“But Mrs. Buell, who was coming in to-day to
arrange terms for the Haddock house——”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry.” Mr. Browning smiled teasingly
at Jane, thought Betty, as her small foot in
the pretty suede slipper tapped the floor. There
was an air of comradery, of perfect understanding,
between these two that puzzled Betty as
much as it angered her.</p>
<p>“I’ll take care of Mrs. Buell; though I admit
I probably shan’t be able to handle her as well
as you. Still, I’ll do my best! Meanwhile, here’s
the list of the tenements you will have to visit.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span>I’m afraid you won’t find it the finest or most
exclusive neighborhood in Greenville.”</p>
<p>So, on and on, with their heads close together
while Betty must sit in idleness and simulated
patience while that plain Jane Cross monopolized
her father!</p>
<p>There—it was over at last!</p>
<p>Jane slipped into her shabby old coat, crushed
the shabby old hat down over her shining hair,
and, laughing, thrust the paper of addresses into
her pocket.</p>
<p>“I’ll do my best,” she said, in answer to some
remark of her employer. “And if I don’t come
back with more money than I’m taking away
with me, it certainly won’t be my fault!”</p>
<p>“That shouldn’t be hard,” murmured Betty,
her head in the air as a draught of cold air advertised
Jane’s exit into the street. “From the
look of her she couldn’t very well have less money
than she has right now.”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning turned his slow, thoughtful gaze
upon his daughter. Betty, for some reason she
could not understand, became restless and ill-at-ease
under the scrutiny.</p>
<p>“Why do you look at me like that, daddy?”
she pettishly broke out at last. “Is there anything
wrong with my clothes?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Mr. Browning. His eyes were
very weary again, a little quizzical. “I was
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span>merely thinking, Bettykin, how impossible it
would have been for Jane Cross to have made a
remark like that one of yours a moment ago.”</p>
<p>“Jane Cross!” Betty jumped to her feet, her
hands clenched at her side, her pretty mouth hard
with sudden fury. “I suppose that plain-faced,
frumpy-looking girl is everything fine and wonderful!
I suppose you’d like to have a girl like
that for your daughter!”</p>
<p>The eyes of father and daughter met. Betty’s
were the first to waver and fall before that encounter.</p>
<p>“Jane Cross is the salt of the earth,” said Mr.
Browning quietly. “She is the kind of girl who
goes around making the world a better and happier
place for the rest of us to live in. If she
wears shabby clothes, it is because she loves
others a little better than herself. Her clothes
make no difference to me, nor to any one else
who really knows her. Pretty clothes are a good
thing to have, but a heart and courage like Jane’s
are a better thing. Think it over, Bettykin—it’s
true.”</p>
<p>Betty ran out of the office then with a hand
childishly covering her ears as though she could
not bear to hear another word.</p>
<p>The unbelievable had happened. She had gone
to conquer and had come away conquered! Jane
Cross in her shabby clothes with her plain face
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span>was strong where she, Betty Browning, was weak.
Betty was tasting defeat, and at first it made her
bitter.</p>
<p>She got home and walked the floor thinking of
Jane Cross and hating her.</p>
<p>Jane had turned her father against her! Jane
was responsible for everything! Her father, her
beloved dad, had actually held this plain-faced
chit up to her, Betty, as an example to be followed!
Oh, it was dreadful, incredible!</p>
<p>Then she thought of how hard she had tried
to gain her father’s love and complete confidence
and sat down in his favorite easy chair and cried.</p>
<p><ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'The tears softend'" id="tn-166">The tears softened</ins> Betty’s anger, and gradually
a different mood came to her.</p>
<p>By the time Mr. Browning came home that
night she had definitely decided what she would
do.</p>
<p>“Dad,” she said, meeting him at the door, “I—I
want a job!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XXIII</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">JANE AND BILLY</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>At first Mr. Browning laughed at the suggestion.
But he was wise enough to see that Betty
was in dead earnest and, realizing his mistake,
laughed no more.</p>
<p>He tried reasoning.</p>
<p>“You have all you can do at home here, Betty,”
he told her. “What would I do without my
housekeeper?”</p>
<p>“I have ever so much time to spare,” Betty
returned. “There are hours when I have to sit
with my hands folded and nothing to do, or else
go for a walk and take a chance of meeting people
who—well, who make it a point to be nice to me.
It isn’t very pleasant, daddy—and I really want
to help.”</p>
<p>That was the way it started.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning could not see at first how he
could use Betty in his own business, and he was
reluctant to have her try for work anywhere else.</p>
<p>Finally he compromised by saying that she
might take charge of the office during Jane’s
absence. She could be of real use there when
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span>Mr. Browning himself was forced to be absent
on business.</p>
<p>A bitter pill for Betty! But she swallowed it
bravely and reported promptly Monday morning
for work.</p>
<p>It says much for Betty’s change of mood—and
mind—that she did not wear an ornate dress in
the hope of impressing plain Jane Cross with her
superiority, but selected one of plain cloth instead.
The very simplicity of this frock made it
distinguished, and one could see at a glance that it
had never been designed for wear in an office.
But it was the most appropriate thing Betty had,
and it at least showed a desire to improve.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning regarded the dress approvingly
as Betty took off her coat and the line between his
brows smoothed out a little.</p>
<p>“She’s true blue,” he thought. “Trust her to
make the grade all right.”</p>
<p>Jane took Betty in hand and “showed her the
ropes.”</p>
<p>“There really isn’t anything very hard about
it,” Jane would say when Betty’s pretty forehead
puckered in bewilderment over rows of figures
and realty terms that were as clear as day to Jane.
“You simply have to get used to it, that’s all.
Now, here’s this deed of Mr. Small’s. Suppose
he wanted to take up a two-thousand-dollar mortgage
on it. What would he do?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span></p>
<p>So on and on, coaching, explaining, impervious
to Betty’s fits of temper and her pettish moods,
until gradually Betty’s tolerance for Jane grew
into grudging admiration and finally into a reluctant
liking.</p>
<p>“She’s clever,” said Betty, watching the pleasant,
energetic girl at her work. “Whatever else
she may be, you’ve got to admit she’s clever!”</p>
<p>If Jane had not been Jane, she might have
gloated a little at her ascendency over the pretty
girl. Instead, she was sorry for her and sincerely
wanted to help her.</p>
<p>About the time of the first deep winter snow
Jane became conscious of a change in Billy Dobson.
Billy had finished and patented a new invention—a
new type of store scales that he was
enthusiastic over.</p>
<p>He showed the scales to Jane, and she shared
his enthusiasm.</p>
<p>“What I need now is money enough to get
away from here and interest some big company in
the thing,” he told Jane, the old wistful hunger
in his eyes. “I know I can put it over this time,
Jane! I’m sure I could, if I only had a chance!”</p>
<p>Jane thought of that steadily growing secret
fund that she had put away in her drawer against
just this emergency. Her rent commissions had
increased this some. Now as she waded through
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span>the first heavy snowfall of the winter, she decided
the time was ripe.</p>
<p>Billy was coming to-night! To-night she
would tell him!</p>
<p>Jane was filled with a strange excitement as she
went down to the cozy living room that night to
wait for Billy. Would he understand what she
was trying to do, she wondered, or would he, in
his stubborn pride, resent it?</p>
<p>She had not long to ask herself this question,
for she had just settled comfortably in one of the
mission armchairs when a sharp ring at the bell
announced Billy’s arrival.</p>
<p>She ran to answer the doorbell and the young
man swept into the house laughing and bringing
a draft of cold air with him.</p>
<p>“You look like Santa Claus!” cried Jane, as
he shook the snow from his overcoat.</p>
<p>“And feel like it,” laughed Billy.</p>
<p>His face was ruddy from the cold, his blue
eyes snapped. He took Jane’s hand and drew
her into the living room where he laughingly
seated her in a big chair and drew up another
close before her.</p>
<p>“Jane,” he announced, “something wonderful
has happened! I’ve got my big chance!”</p>
<p>Jane’s heart skipped a beat, two beats!</p>
<p>“Oh, I might have known it by the way you
looked! Tell me, Billy! Hurry!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p>
<p>“I found the names of several big men in the
city,” said Billy, “men I thought might be interested
in my new type of scales. I described it
to them or, at least, just enough to whet their
appetites for more—so I hoped. Well,” Billy
paused and Jane could see by the tightening of
his jaw and the grip of his hand on the chair arm
what a great thing this was to him, “I got a letter
from one of them to-day, Jane, saying he was interested
and would like to see me. He hinted
that if my scales were as good as I had led him
to believe—and I’ve no doubt on that score,
Jane!—he might be ready to talk business!”</p>
<p>“Billy!”</p>
<p>“So I’ve wired to him that I’ll be in town to-morrow!
Say, Jane, I want to know—how’s
that?”</p>
<p>“Oh, marvelous, Billy! I’m so glad for you!
If this man likes your scales, just what will that
mean? I’m so ignorant about these things, you
know!”</p>
<p>“Mean!” Billy got up and strode about the
room, hands thrust deep in his pockets. “It will
mean everything, Jane. It means that this man
will back my patent by putting up hard cash and
in return will get a certain percentage of the
profits. But I’ll get a percentage, too—enough
probably, if everything goes well, to about fix
me for life. How’s that, Jane?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p>
<p>“I always told you you’d do it, Billy, didn’t I?”
Jane looked up at him proudly and Billy, pausing
in his restless pacing of the room, sat down again
and took her hand gently in his.</p>
<p>“You bet you did, Jane!” he said exuberantly.
“And don’t think I’m forgetting the little pal
that backed me when every one else was dead set
against me. I haven’t won out yet, Jane, but if
I do—and I begin to feel now as though I would—I
want you to know that a good deal of it is
your doing! I don’t think even you know just
how much you’ve helped.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad Billy. And—it gives me courage to
say something else.” Her voice was little more
than a murmur and Billy had to lean close to
catch her words. “I thought the time might
come when you would need—a little practical
help—from your friends. So I—I—oh, here,
Billy, take it—and please don’t be offended with
me!”</p>
<p>Jane thrust a little packet into his hand, rose
quickly and went to the window where she stood
looking out into the stormy night.</p>
<p>Billy looked at her wonderingly, then back
again to the packet in his hand. Slowly he unwrapped
the covering.</p>
<p>A roll of neatly folded bills—that slowly accruing
little fund that had lain for so long at the
back of Jane’s dresser drawer!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p>
<p>Billy looked at it for a long moment; then he
crushed it in his hand and turned to Jane. She
was still watching the storm outside the window.</p>
<p>“You meant this for me, Jane?” said Billy
slowly.</p>
<p>Wordlessly Jane nodded. She did not turn
about or look at him.</p>
<p>Billy got up softly and went over to her. He
took her hand, put the roll of bills in it, then
closed her fingers over it gently, one by one.</p>
<p>Jane said, in a stifled voice:</p>
<p>“Then—then you don’t need it, Billy?”</p>
<p>“I’ve a little of my own saved up. But, Jane—say,
Jane,” his voice had lowered and was
very gruff, “I can’t say what I’m feeling. Guess
you’ll have to guess at it. But that was more
than good of you, Jane!”</p>
<p>The warm clasp of his hand, the look in his
eyes, was answer enough for Jane. Billy did not
need her money, perhaps, but he did need her
friendship.</p>
<p>The next day when she started for her rent
route she met Billy. He was going to the station,
and if ever any one looked buoyant and
hopeful and headed for success, that young man
was Billy Dobson.</p>
<p>Betty, from the windows of her father’s office,
saw the meeting, and a frown puckered her white
forehead.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p>
<p>“I never knew Billy Dobson was so good looking,”
she thought. “And there seems to be no
doubt whatever what he thinks of Jane. It’s
wonderful how that girl, plain as she is, can wind
men around her little finger! She has something
you haven’t, Betty Browning, for all that
your eyes are blue and your hair naturally curly!
I wonder if it really was Billy Dobson that set
Martin and Hull’s on fire and started all our
bad luck! I must say, he doesn’t look like that
sort of person.”</p>
<p>Betty saw Jane hold out both her hands impulsively
and saw the eager way the youth grasped
them. Then Billy was gone, with a buoyant lift
of his hat, and Jane, in her shabby coat, disappeared
around the corner.</p>
<p>With a sigh Betty turned to the tiresome work
of straightening up Jane’s desk and her father’s
and laying the latter’s letters close to his hand.</p>
<p>It was several hours later, and Mr. Browning
had been in, consulted with several clients and
gone out again with one of them to arrange a
new lease on some property or other—Betty
could never remember the details of these transactions
as Jane did—and Betty was once more
alone and feeling rather bored when the door
opened and a shabby, poorly dressed old woman
entered the office.</p>
<p>Betty looked up, surprised as the newcomer
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span>paused at the door and seemed in doubt whether
to advance or retreat.</p>
<p>“Come in,” said Betty. “Is there something I
can do for you?”</p>
<p>“Well,” hesitated the woman, “I was hoping
to see Mr. Browning—or Miss Jane Cross.”</p>
<p>Betty winced inwardly, as she still did when
any one expressed a preference for Jane, but
she said politely enough:</p>
<p>“Mr. Browning and Miss Cross are both out
at present. If you will leave a message with me,
I’ll see that it gets to them safely.”</p>
<p>“We—ell—” The woman came forward
and seated herself gingerly on the edge of a chair.
“I came to tell you what started the Martin and
Hull fire.”</p>
<p>Betty could be pardoned for her stare of
amazement.</p>
<p>“You have?” she asked incredulously.</p>
<p>“Leastways, my husband says he thinks he
knows what started it,” the old woman continued,
taking no note of Betty’s amazement. “He never
listens much to what people are sayin’ or what
gossip goes about the town but the other evenin’
when he heard some of the men talkin’ about
Billy Dobson and sayin’ as how the lad had set
Martin and Hull’s on fire, why, that sort of got
him right het up, as you might say, and he says
right off that he knowed what set the place afire.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p>
<p>“What did?” cried Betty excitedly. Here,
miraculously, it seemed, was the answer to the
question she had asked herself only that morning!</p>
<p>“The wires was all wrong,” said the woman,
whose name was Mrs. Shiff. “Martin Shiff—that’s
my man—and he’s a lineman for the electric
light company—says as how he told Mr. Hull
time and again there’d be trouble if they didn’t
get busy and have some new wirin’ done. But
the old man kept puttin’ it off and off, and Martin
says it looks like he just got what was coming to
him.”</p>
<p>Betty had jumped to her feet. Her face was
flushed, her eyes bright.</p>
<p>“Is your husband sure of this?”</p>
<p>“He’s as sure,” said Mrs. Shiff dryly, “as he
can be of anything on this earth!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XXIV</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">A SURPRISE</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>Betty Browning waited until she and her
father were seated at dinner that night before she
told of the electrician’s important disclosures concerning
the defective wiring of Martin and Hull’s
place.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning was greatly interested and promised
Betty that he would set an investigation
afoot at once to discover whether there was any
truth in Mr. Shiff’s assertions.</p>
<p>“First of all, we’ll get a signed statement from
this electrician. Then with that we’ll confront
Mr. Hull and ask him to confirm it. If he will
and if we can also find some one else who will
testify that the wiring was defective or can even
testify that he heard Shiff say as much previous
to the blaze, we’ll have gone a long way toward
clearing Billy Dobson’s name. Jane will be glad,”
he finished. “She has always championed Billy.”</p>
<p>“I know.” Betty played with a spoon and did
not look toward her father. “And that brings
me to something else I want to say, dad. I’d
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span>just a little rather Jane didn’t know until—until
we’ve got it all fixed up.”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning regarded his daughter’s pretty
profile thoughtfully a moment. Then he put his
hand understandingly over the hand that still
played restlessly with the spoon.</p>
<p>“A surprise? All right, honey; that’s an easy
promise.”</p>
<p>Several days later—when Jane’s surprise was
almost ready for her—Jane herself received a
shock that sent her little world crashing about
her ears.</p>
<p>It happened one day when she was out collecting
rents from the tenement dwellers on the farther
side of the railroad tracks.</p>
<p>There was a new family in 18 Blecker Street,
so Mr. Browning had told her. Jane was to collect
the first month’s rent from them that day
and in addition had been commissioned to look
them over and report as to their general character,
reliableness, etc. Mr. Browning had long
ago found that Jane’s judgment in such matters
was almost infallible. If Jane found any one
trustworthy in her estimation, Mr. Browning regarded
her recommendation more highly than the
best references. References he must have, of
course, but Jane’s intuition, in her employer’s
opinion, was even more to be trusted.</p>
<p>So Jane toiled up the steps of the tenement
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>house at 18 Blecker Street, and with a feeling of
curiosity rang the bell of Apartment 18.</p>
<p>A thin, dark-haired woman came to the door
and regarded the girl with suspicion. Jane was
used to this. She supposed most rent collectors
had to be. She did not allow it to affect her
friendly attitude nor the pleasant way she stated
her errand.</p>
<p>She was conscious that the woman was regarding
her very intently, but at that was scarcely prepared
for the latter’s next statement, or rather
question.</p>
<p>“You’re the girl who used to live with Mrs.
Cross, ain’t you?”</p>
<p>Jane was startled by the abrupt change of subject,
but she said, still pleasantly:</p>
<p>“I am Mrs. Cross’s daughter, yes.”</p>
<p>“Her daughter!” blurted the woman. “Why,
she never had no daughter!”</p>
<p>“Never had a daughter!” Jane cried, anger
mingling with her astonishment. “What are you
talking about? <em>I</em> am her daughter!”</p>
<p>The woman appeared to be one of those little
souls who delight in creating a sensation, no matter
who may be wounded or hurt during the
process.</p>
<p>“Me and my husband came to Coal Run about
the same time as Mrs. Cross and her man,” the
woman continued, while Jane stood staring at her
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span>in a daze. “But before that we lived in Walling—you
mind that’s not more than twenty miles
from Coal Run. The Crosses lived there too,
and one day when the orphan asylum burned
they adopted a little girl who had been brought
to the asylum when she was a baby.”</p>
<p>“A little girl,” said Jane dazedly. “And that
little girl was—was——”</p>
<p>“You,” said the woman, with a sharp laugh.
“They called you Janet at the asylum, but seems
like that struck Mrs. Cross too fancy-like, so she
changed it to Jane.”</p>
<p>Since she had not given her name to this woman
the fact that the latter knew it seemed a sort of
confirmation of her incredible story. Jane felt
numbed, and yet her brain was acting with extraordinary
clearness.</p>
<p>“If this thing is true,” she said slowly, “how is
it that I don’t recognize you?”</p>
<p>“We didn’t live in Coal Run long,” said the
woman, with a shrug of her shoulders. “Probably
you was so little when we moved away that
you couldn’t remember us. Well, might as well
get down to business. I suppose you’ve got to
have the rent?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Jane, speaking automatically, “I’ve
got to have the rent.”</p>
<p>But after the woman had given her the money—her
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span>name was Hensel—Jane collected no more
rents that day.</p>
<p>She went straight home and walked in suddenly
upon Mrs. Powell, who was working in the
kitchen.</p>
<p>The latter looked at Jane’s white, stricken face
and dried her hands.</p>
<p>“My dear child! What is it?”</p>
<p>Jane dropped into one of the straight kitchen
chairs and looked at this kind friend, the friend
that had tried to take a mother’s place to her—a
mother’s place——</p>
<p>“Aunt Lou! Aunt Lou!” she cried, her lips
quivering, “who is my mother?”</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell paused and looked strangely at
Jane. Then with a cry she sank to her knees
and gathered the white-faced girl into her arms.</p>
<p>“Oh, my poor child! You’ve found out
then——”</p>
<p>Jane pushed Mrs. Powell gently away from
her and held her at arm’s length for a moment.
Her brown eyes were oddly still as they met the
pitying gaze of the older woman.</p>
<p>“It’s true then?” she said slowly. “I was—taken
from an orphan asylum by the one I thought
was—my mother? My name—is not—Jane
Cross, at all?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid not, Jane.” Mrs. Powell was
abashed by the girl’s quietness, by the intentness
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span>of her look. “Mrs. Cross took you from an asylum
in Walling when you were a small child. If
she had lived you might never have found out the
truth.”</p>
<p>“When did you find this out?” asked Jane in
the same quiet voice.</p>
<p>“Just a short time ago, Jane.” Mrs. Powell’s
tone had become pleading. She was more
alarmed by the quietness of Jane’s manner than
she would have been by the most hysterical outburst
of tears. “It was when I found the material
for your serge dress.”</p>
<p>“As long ago as that!” said Jane softly. “And
you never told me?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t dare, Jane,” pleaded Mrs. Powell.
“I was afraid it would break your heart. You are
not angry with me for keeping the secret from
you, Jane?”</p>
<p>“No—oh, no!” In the same dazed way, Jane
pushed Mrs. Powell gently from her, got up, and
walked over to the window. “How could I be
angry with you, who have been so good to me
always? No, no, I’m not angry.”</p>
<p>But when Mrs. Powell would have gone to her
to take her in her arms again and try to comfort
her, Jane raised her hand in a weary little gesture.</p>
<p>“Please,” she said very softly, “I want to be
alone for a little while, dear Aunt Lou. You
don’t mind?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p>
<p>Jane went toward the door, hand outstretched
before her as though she could not see.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell watched her pityingly and heard
her murmur just before she crossed the threshold,
“Mother! Who—was—my mother?”</p>
<p>Jane did not cry that day or the next while she
went mechanically about the business of collecting
rents—the business she had neglected the day before.
She could not cry, but something within her
that had been bright and warm and laughter-loving
had frozen into a cold aching indifference
to everything but her pain.</p>
<p>Because she was out of the office almost all
the next day, Betty had no chance to spring the
“surprise” upon her that had been so carefully
prepared by her father and herself with the invaluable
help of Martin Shiff and several friends
of the latter. These friends were ready to swear
at a moment’s notice that Shiff had made in their
presence much the same statement concerning the
faulty wiring of Martin and Hull’s that Mrs.
Shiff had made to Betty.</p>
<p>Betty had been impatiently awaiting Jane’s arrival
all afternoon, and when the latter came at
last, almost at closing time, Betty turned eagerly
toward the sound of the opening door.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m so glad you came!” she cried, advancing
eagerly toward Jane. “I’ve got a surprise
for you, Jane, a marvelous surprise!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p>
<p>Jane regarded the vision of Betty’s flushed
cheeks and dancing eyes wonderingly. Betty had
never approached her in this way before. Jane
took off her hat and coat and turned a wan,
listless face to the pretty girl.</p>
<p>“That’s nice,” she said, trying to smile.
“What is it?”</p>
<p>Betty bore her triumphantly to the desk and
picked up the paper that had been written and
signed by Martin Shiff, the electrician.</p>
<p>“Read that!” she said, thrusting the paper into
Jane’s hand. “Read that and tell me what you
think of it!”</p>
<p>Jane read the paper at first indifferently and
then with growing interest.</p>
<p>“Why,” she said, looking up at Betty, who
pressed laughingly close to her shoulder, “this
man seems to think it was defective wiring that
caused the Martin and Hull fire!”</p>
<p>Betty nodded.</p>
<p>“And what’s more, we’ve found lots of others
who think so, Jane—now that this electrician has
had the courage to come out into the open and
declare himself. Even Mr. Hull admits that
Shiff urged him time and again to have his place
newly wired!”</p>
<p>“Why, then,” said Jane, a thrill in her voice,
“this thing practically clears Billy——”</p>
<p>“Practically clears Billy! Hear the girl!” cried
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span>Betty gayly. “Why, it clears Billy altogether!
By this time next week I’m willing to wager that
not a person in town will believe that silly accusation
old Hull made against him!”</p>
<p>Jane had been reading the paper again. Now
she glanced up at Betty.</p>
<p>“This was your surprise for me?” she asked
slowly. “You did this for me—because you knew
it would please me?”</p>
<p>“Dad and I did—with the able assistance of
this electrician person. Why, Jane, I believe
you’re crying!”</p>
<p>Jane got up quickly and walked over to her
desk, where she stood with her back to Betty,
struggling with herself.</p>
<p>Betty hesitated a minute, then went over to
the other girl and took her cold hand within her
own warm one.</p>
<p>“Jane—I—I believe there was something
wrong when you came in just now.” She hesitated,
but a warm rush of pity urged her on.
“Something dreadful has happened to you, Jane,
to make you look like that. I—I know you—have
reasons for not caring to confide in me.
I’m ashamed of the way I’ve acted sometimes.
But, Jane, if—if you feel like—letting me—help
a little—I want to, really.”</p>
<p>“How would you like to find out suddenly that
you had no mother?” Jane’s fingers suddenly
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span>curled about Betty’s hand in a way that hurt.
Her voice was harsh with pain. “How would
you like to find out that the person you had loved
as your mother, the person you had mourned as
your mother after her death, was not your mother
at all, but some one who, out of pity, had taken
you from an orphan asylum and brought you up in
ignorance of the truth? How would you like to
feel,” Jane’s voice broke, but her grip on Betty’s
hand did not relax, “that—that you had never
known your mother—or your father——”</p>
<p>“Jane, dear!” pleaded Betty, but Jane rushed
on, unheeding.</p>
<p>“To feel that you did not even know your right
name—that—that you had no real place in the
world? Just an orphan, picked up out of an asylum—no—no
good to any one——”</p>
<p>“Why, Jane, do you know what I think?”</p>
<p>Betty at last broke through the rush of words
and put her arm tight about the trembling girl.
Jane’s eyes were downcast and she traced strange
designs on the top of her desk with her finger.</p>
<p>“I think,” said Betty in a curiously sweet voice,
“that there are lots of people who know all about
themselves—their names and everything—that
aren’t half the use in the world that you are, Jane.
Why, just look at me!” with a quiver of laughter
that was half a sob in her voice. “See what you’ve
done to me, Jane! You’ve made me see that the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span>people who are really worth while are the people
who do things and don’t just sit around and watch
other people do them. You go around making
life bright for people until they just can’t do
without you. Yes, you do! I’ve watched you,
and I know! Dad’s one. Billy’s another. And I—I’m
another, Jane! If I had a sister I’d want
her just like you. Now, look here—this silly
girl’s crying again. Where <em>did</em> I put that hanky!”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak fnormal center linesp" id="CHAPTER_XXV">
<span class="fs90">CHAPTER XXV</span>
<br>
<span class="fs60">THE REVELATION</span>
</h2>
</div>
<p>When Mr. Browning entered the office a few
moments later he found the two girls clasped in
each other’s arms.</p>
<p>Betty was wiping Jane’s eyes with her inadequate
little handkerchief and Jane was trying to
laugh and making a poor business of it.</p>
<p>No wonder that he paused in amazement at
this sight. No wonder, either, that his heart
leaped with pride and hope as he saw his pretty
Betty in the new role of comforter to Jane.</p>
<p>“She’s come through!” he told himself. “I
knew she’d make the grade!”</p>
<p>Then he coughed by way of tactfully announcing
his presence.</p>
<p>Betty pulled him down on the settee beside
them and, still holding on to Jane, told the latter’s
story.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning was wonderful to her, Jane
thought afterward, and so comforting. He said
that he would try at once to find out more about
her parentage, that he would write to the orphan
asylum, or perhaps go to Walling personally.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p>
<p>“Their records are usually pretty accurate,”
he told Jane. “In the meantime, don’t worry,
young lady. A girl like you can’t have sprung
from any but good stock. When we find out
who your parents were, I’ll guarantee you can be
proud of them. Meantime, I think I’ll have a
talk with Mr. Powell.”</p>
<p>This he did, and his conference with Mr.
Powell resulted immediately in one good thing,
at least. He was able to find the latter a position
in Drake’s big hardware store, where he started
at a salary equal to the one he had had with Martin
and Hull and where, he was assured, there
was good opportunity for advancement.</p>
<p>About Jane, neither Mr. Powell nor Mr.
Browning was so sure. They were almost afraid
to investigate for fear they would find out something
concerning the girl’s parents that might cast
a shadow over her entire life. Nevertheless, they
pledged themselves to help her, and went about
it with a will.</p>
<p>When Mr. Browning could not obtain satisfactory
information by mail he announced to Jane
and Betty one day his intention of going to Walling
in person.</p>
<p>He seemed vaguely excited about something,
but though both girls questioned him, Betty more
insistently than Jane, he would give them no satisfaction,
merely saying that when he found out
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span>anything definite he would tell it to them at once
but that at present he had gained no really authentic
information.</p>
<p>He left the office in charge of Jane, and that
meant that the girl was kept “on her toes all day”
doing both her own work and the work of her
employer. This was perhaps just as well, since
it kept her from useless brooding. But it was a
trying time, even though an exciting one, for
both the girls left behind.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Billy Dobson came back to Greenville
triumphant. He had been gone for some
time, and since he had not written, Jane was beginning
to worry for fear his mission had ended
in failure after all.</p>
<p>He burst unceremoniously into the office one
morning just as Jane was putting her hat on to
go out.</p>
<p>Billy was handsomer than ever and there was
an air of success about him just now that was
rather thrilling. At least, so thought Betty from
the modest obscurity of her own little desk in
the rear of the office.</p>
<p>Billy rushed directly to Jane and swallowed up
both her outstretched hands in his two great
brown ones.</p>
<p>“Congratulations, Jane! Give ’em to me
quick! I’ve done it!”</p>
<p>“Billy!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span></p>
<p>Jane’s face was shining; her heart was thumping gloriously.</p>
<p>“You mean that man has really accepted your
invention?”</p>
<p>“Accepted! Oh, boy, I’ll say he has! And at
a price—oh, such a price! Jane, feast your eyes
upon me, for you’re looking at a rich man—a
man, moreover, who some day will be much
richer! Are you getting an eyeful?”</p>
<p>“You’re crazy, of course!” Jane laughed helplessly
as Billy continued to hold on to her hands
and beam upon her. “But I don’t blame you at
all, Billy. I feel sort of—unbalanced—myself!”</p>
<p>They had a perfectly marvelous, idiotic time
after that, and Jane drew Betty into it, telling
Billy of the investigation the latter had instigated
and giving him the signed statement of Martin
Shiff to read.</p>
<p>Billy looked thoughtfully at Betty after he read
it, and then quietly offered his hand.</p>
<p>“Thanks!” he said. “That was a mighty fine
thing for you to do, and it means a lot to me.”</p>
<p>Betty accepted the hand but nodded mischievously
at Jane, all her pretty dimples in evidence.</p>
<p>“I did it for Jane,” she said demurely. “I knew
how pleased she’d be.”</p>
<p>Billy turned to Jane, a slow smile on his lips.</p>
<p>“Were you?” he asked.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p>
<p>Jane flushed, and was surprised and angry at
herself for doing it.</p>
<p>“Of course I was glad,” she returned almost
shortly. “Who wouldn’t be?”</p>
<p>“I’d be very sorry,” said Billy gravely, “if Jane
wasn’t just a little bit more pleased than—any
one else.”</p>
<p>Jane smiled, her own bright, cordial smile, and
gave him her hand again.</p>
<p>“Of course I am glad, Billy,” she said. “You
know how much, without my telling you.”</p>
<p>Betty smiled knowingly and hid her face so
that the mischievous dimples would not betray
her thought. For who can say that all women—even
quite young ones—are not matchmakers at
heart!</p>
<p>It was some days before Mr. Browning came
home again, and the suspense made Jane thin
and etched dark circles under her eyes.</p>
<p>Billy, of course, had been let into her confidence,
and he and Betty between them did all they
could to comfort and encourage her. But Jane
could not sleep at night for the question that said
itself over and over in her mind. “Who was my
mother? Who was my father? Oh, what will
Mr. Browning find out about them?”</p>
<p>Then came the night when Mr. Browning arrived
quite unexpectedly in Greenville.</p>
<p>He had engaged a woman in the neighborhood—a
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span>bustling wiry person by the name of Joyce—to
stay with Betty during his absence. The latter
protested that she would be perfectly safe without
the wiry Mrs. Joyce, but Mr. Browning would not
hear of her staying alone in the house.</p>
<p>On this particular night Betty was just about
ready for bed when a familiar step on the porch
and a key in the door announced the arrival of
her father.</p>
<p>She ran down to him. The flood of questions
trembling on her lips was checked by the look on
her father’s face. He shut the door quietly and
then, with a hand on Betty’s arm, drew her into
the front room.</p>
<p>“Dad, is anything wrong? Has anything——”</p>
<p>“Listen, Betty.” Mr. Browning seated himself
in a chair and drew Betty down on his knee as
though she were a little child again. He had not
even thought to take off his overcoat. “I have
something very important to tell you. I wanted
you to know before I saw Jane. That’s why I
timed my arrival after dark. Are you listening?”</p>
<hr class="tb">
<p>The next day Betty entered her father’s office,
trying to mask her excitement. Jane was at her
desk, sorting and arranging the morning mail.
Betty went directly to her.</p>
<p>“Jane, dear,” she said, “daddy is in town and
he wants very much to see you.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span></p>
<p>Jane started to her feet, her face suddenly very
white.</p>
<p>“Where is he?” she asked.</p>
<p>“At home. He thought that perhaps he’d better
tell you—what he wants to—there. Come
along.”</p>
<p>“But the office——”</p>
<p>“Oh, bother the old office! It can take care
of itself for a little while!”</p>
<p>Jane was in her coat, her hat on her head
in a moment. She closed and locked the office and
automatically put the key in her pocket.</p>
<p>The girls had almost reached Betty’s house,
walking swiftly and in silence, when Jane put a
hand on the pretty girl’s arm.</p>
<p>“Tell me just one thing, Betty,” she begged.
“Is this news—very bad?”</p>
<p>“Bad? No! Don’t ask me any questions, Jane
Cross, or I’ll never keep the secret—never!”</p>
<p>They said no more until they stepped up on the
porch and the door was opened by Mr. Browning
from the inside. Mrs. Joyce had been dismissed
that morning.</p>
<p>Jane was trembling when Mr. Browning helped
her off with her coat, and then led her into the
front room.</p>
<p>“Oh, whatever you have to tell me, please tell
me quickly,” she cried, her breath catching. “I
can’t bear this a moment longer!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p>
<p>“All right, then.” Mr. Browning pushed the
girl gently down on the couch and drew up a chair
near her. Betty sat down close to Jane, one arm
about her.</p>
<p>“My news isn’t bad news, Jane; so don’t look
like that, my dear girl. But it is strange, so
strange that it may be something of a shock to
you. Are you ready to listen?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, yes!” cried Jane.</p>
<p>“Well then, this is the story of a girl I know.”
Mr. Browning took a cigar from his pocket and
lighted it, feigning an ease he did not feel. “She
was brought up by a woman whom she thought
to be her mother. When she found out this
woman was not her mother but had taken her
from an orphan asylum, the truth came, naturally,
as a great shock to her.”</p>
<p>Jane sat very still now, her eyes fixed on Mr.
Browning.</p>
<p>“There was a man who took a great interest
in her, and who promised to solve the mystery of
her parentage for her. He went to the town
where the orphan asylum was located in the hope
of finding out from the authorities there something
concerning this girl’s parents. He did find
out something.”</p>
<p>Mr. Browning paused and regarded the tip of
his cigar intently for a moment. Jane neither
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span>moved nor spoke, but sat with her eyes intently on
him.</p>
<p>“He found out something so strange and startling,”
Mr. Browning continued, “that he could
not bring himself to believe the truth of it at
first, but must first satisfy himself with absolute
proofs. He found the proofs.” He paused, and
for the first time his eyes met Jane’s. The girl
stirred, reached out her hands toward him imploringly.</p>
<p>“He found,” said Mr. Browning slowly, “that
the child’s real name was not Jane, but Janet,
and that her mother was Martha Harper and that
her father was Mark Harper, a sailor who lost
his life in a great gale off the coast.”</p>
<p>Jane was trembling again and Betty’s arm
tightened about her.</p>
<p>“The mother,” continued Mr. Browning in a
low voice, and even amid the whirling of her own
thought, Jane wondered why he became so agitated,
so distressed at the mention of her mother’s
name, “tried to make her living and support her
baby, but her heart was broken and she died, leaving
the baby, the little girl, to the charity of
strangers.”</p>
<p>Jane found herself speaking.</p>
<p>“That girl was I?” she asked.</p>
<p>“I am coming to that,” said Mr. Browning.
He bent forward and held Jane’s gaze with his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span>own. “This is the strange part, the almost unbelievable
part of it. I once had a sister, a gay,
high-spirited girl, who fell in love with—and
finally married—a sailor. My parents opposed
the match, and when the girl married against
their wishes, declared they would have nothing
more to do with her.”</p>
<p>“Oh, they were cruel!” cried Jane, with a catch
in her voice. “Cruel!”</p>
<p>“Yes, it was cruel,” said Mr. Browning. He
regarded the end of his cigar for a moment, then
turned his gaze again to Jane. “I want you to
listen very carefully to what I am saying now.”
His tone was so grave that Jane stared at him
fascinated, her heart pounding. “That sister of
whom I have not until now been able to find a
trace, though I have tried, bore the name of
Martha, and the man she married was Mark
Harper! Now, Jane, do you understand?”</p>
<p>Jane did not understand for a moment. She
was so slow, in fact, that Betty’s patience could
not stand the strain.</p>
<p>“Jane, don’t you see?” she cried. “Your
mother and my father were brother and sister!
That makes us—well, what does it make us, you
big silly?”</p>
<p>Jane stared at her, while the almost incredible
truth flashed to her mind.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p>
<p>“Why, Betty, it can’t be! It isn’t possible!
That makes us cousins!”</p>
<p>“First cousins, you old darling! And, Jane, I
feel as if I’d found a million dollars!”</p>
<p>Betty hugged Jane and hugged her father—whose
face was no longer lined and weary—then
went back to Jane and put a mischievous finger
under her chin, lifting up her serious, still incredulous
face.</p>
<p>“I wanted you for a sister, Jane,” she said.
“’Member? Well, I couldn’t have you for my sister.
But I can have you for my cousin, and that’s
almost as good, now, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Almost as good!”</p>
<p>It was a long time before Jane could realize
the fact that she and Betty—pretty Betty Browning
who had once lived in the finest house on Rose
Hill—were cousins. It was a still longer time
before she could drag her mind away from that
marvelous fact.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning had papers to prove his assertion,
but Jane only glanced at them. His word
was enough.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning, fine, distinguished Mr. Browning,
was her uncle—the next best thing to one’s
own father, thought Jane, and tried wistfully to
picture that Mark Harper who had died at sea.
Mr. Browning was to be Uncle Clyde after this.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span>How intimate it sounded and how she loved Uncle
Clyde and Betty for being so good to her!</p>
<p>That mother, that impetuous pretty girl
Martha, who had braved the displeasure of her
family to marry the man she loved! What of
her?</p>
<p>Mr. Browning had brought a tiny locket, a
pretty baby’s locket, and in it was a sweet smiling
face whose loveliness brought the tears smarting
to Jane’s longing eyes.</p>
<p>It had been part of the possessions of the little
girl, Janet Harper, when she came to the asylum
and had been forgotten when she left. The
authorities had lost sight of her, but had kept the
tiny locket, thinking that some day some one belonging
to her would come and claim it, as some
one did!</p>
<p>“Mother! Mother!” whispered Jane, and
looking at the lovely pictured face, gradually lost
it in a swimming mist of tears.</p>
<p>It is to be feared that very little work was done
at Mr. Browning’s real estate office that day.
True, there was some one there most of the day
and Mr. Browning went about his duties in a
perfunctory way, but Jane and Betty were somewhere
in the clouds together and could not come
down to earth.</p>
<p>Mrs. Powell had to be told the wonderful
news, of course, and laughed and cried and exclaimed
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span>over Jane to her heart’s content. Marion
came in in the midst of the jubilation and almost
had hysterics in her joy.</p>
<p>“Best girl in the world!” she cried, bobbing
and smiling. “Deserves everything good! Yes,
indeed. You have my blessing, Jane—or I should
say, Janet! Good luck go with you, my dear.
Yes indeed, I wish it. Truly.”</p>
<p>“Marion!” Lydia spoke sternly from the doorway.
She had followed her sister to the door
and looked with disapproval upon the scene. “Do
come away, Marion! You talk too much!”</p>
<p>“Aren’t they funny?” giggled Betty a few moments
later, as she linked her arm through Jane’s
and started toward home. It had been arranged
that Jane should celebrate by having dinner with
her newly acquired relatives.</p>
<p>“But Marion and Lydia are good-hearted,”
said Jane. “They will do anything in the world
for you if they think you need help. I’ll never
forget how good they were to us when we first
came to Greenville.”</p>
<p>“Well, if you love ’em, Jane, I suppose I’ll
have to love ’em too,” said Betty, with a sigh
of mock resignation. “Here’s the butcher store.
We’ll have to stop and get the makings of a
dinner.”</p>
<p>“Here’s the whole day gone and I’ve hardly
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span>done a stroke of work,” said Jane. “Mr.
Brown——”</p>
<p>“Uncle Clyde!” corrected Betty.</p>
<p>“Uncle Clyde,” repeated Jane <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'with a hightened'" id="tn-201">with a heightened</ins>
color and a quick squeeze of Betty’s hand, “will
be firing me!”</p>
<p>“He can’t now,” chuckled Betty, and displayed
all her dimples. “Because, you see, you’re in the
family!”</p>
<p>A short time later the girls let themselves into
Betty’s house, chatting gayly, their arms full of
bundles.</p>
<p>“Here comes dad,” said Betty, pausing on the
threshold and looking back to wave to her father
as he turned the corner and came swiftly toward
them. “Let’s wait for him.”</p>
<p>So it happened that they entered the house
together, Mr. Browning with an arm about each
of “his girls,” as he proudly called them.</p>
<p>Something unusual in the atmosphere halted
them just within the door.</p>
<p>It was the appetizing smell of a roast browning
in the oven.</p>
<p>“Why, dad, you didn’t tell Mrs. Joyce to come
back, did you?” asked Betty, staring at him.</p>
<p>“No,” answered her father briefly, and started
toward the kitchen. The girls followed, wondering.</p>
<p>Through the kitchen doorway they saw some
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span>one slip a pan of biscuits in the oven—a tall handsome
some one, swathed in a gingham kitchen
apron.</p>
<p>Mr. Browning paused as if stupefied and stood
staring.</p>
<p>Betty drew her arm from Jane’s, shrieked
wildly:</p>
<p>“Mother! Mother! Mother!”</p>
<p>She flung herself like a young meteor past her
father and into the arms of the tall, handsome
woman in the gingham apron.</p>
<p>“Mother! Dear, darling mother! It isn’t
you, is it? It’s some one that looks like you all
dressed up in my funny old apron! Oh, mother,
tell me it’s you and that I’m not dreaming!”</p>
<p>“You foolish child, stop mauling me so! You
nearly made me spoil the soup, and the roast will
burn——”</p>
<p>“Oh, bother the roast! Dad—daddy, she’s
come back to us!”</p>
<p>All this time Jane had stood, frozen by surprise,
scarcely able to move.</p>
<p>She saw Mr. Browning go forward slowly
and take his wife’s hand, saw the questioning
look in his eyes.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t stay away any longer, Clyde,” she
heard the proud woman say, her eyes humble,
almost pleading. “What Betty can do I can do,
and I’m ashamed that I let the child teach me this
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span>lesson. I’d like to stay and—do my part—if you
want me——”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Mr. Browning slowly, “I guess
we won’t exactly put her out, <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'shall be, Bettykin'" id="tn-203">shall we, Bettykin</ins>?”</p>
<p>Jane realized then that this scene was not for
her, and she turned away, feeling for the moment
just a little lonely.</p>
<p>But only for a moment.</p>
<p>Betty came flying after her, took her hand, and
drew her toward the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Mother!” she cried in her merry voice, all her
dimples flashing, “allow me to present another
member of the family!”</p>
<hr class="tb">
<p>Several years passed by, and Jane, wandering
in the garden that she and Mrs. Powell had
coaxed into a riot of color, smiled as she thought
of the changes those years had seen.</p>
<p>She still worked in Mr. Browning’s office, and
Betty, not to be outdone in anything by her beloved
cousin, worked side by side with her.</p>
<p>The business had prospered. Mr. Browning
was well on the way to becoming a rich man again,
and it began to look as though before long he
would be able to buy back the big house on Rose
Hill if he cared to. But they were so happy in
the little cottage where the roses over the door no
longer drooped their heads in sad neglect that it
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span>is doubtful whether they would ever have the
heart to leave it.</p>
<p>Although Mr. and Mrs. Browning urged Jane
to come and live with them and pretty Betty tried
all her dimples and all her wiles, Jane would not
leave the Powells, those good friends who had
been kind to her when she needed kindness most.
Mr. Browning had been able to throw a little
business in the way of Mr. Powell now and then
that he could look after in his leisure hours, so
that he, as well, was better off than he had ever
dreamed of being.</p>
<p>Billy had prospered too—oh, mightily.</p>
<p>Jane’s smile deepened when she thought of
Billy. He was off on one of his many important
trips to the city now, but Jane expected him back
almost any time. The marketing of his one invention
had made much easier the placing of the
others. There had been something in that last
letter of his——</p>
<p>A quick footstep on the gravel path behind
her.</p>
<p>Jane turned to see Billy coming toward her,
his fair hair shining in the sun.</p>
<p>“’Lo Jane! Aunt Lou said I’d find you here
talking to the posies. Thought maybe you’d
rather talk to me.”</p>
<p>“Well, so I would, perhaps. How was the trip,
Billy?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p>
<p>“Pretty slick. All I had to do was tell ’em
to sign on the dotted line. We’re going to be
rich, Jane!”</p>
<p>“We?” queried Jane, with a smile.</p>
<p>“Yes, I said we! Because you’re going to
marry me, whether you know it or not. Don’t
you think, Jane, you’ve kept me waiting long
enough?” he went on more soberly.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was the smell of the flowers or perhaps
it was the spring sunshine or perhaps—it was
only Billy. Anyway, Jane said, “Perhaps I have,”
and Billy seemed to think he had his answer.</p>
<p>“Oh-h, excuse me!” A pretty face was poked
about the edge of the rose arbor, a face framed
in lovely flyaway golden hair. “You ought to
hang out a sign, you two, warning everybody off
the premises!”</p>
<p>“Come in,” grinned Billy. “You’re just in time
to be invited to our wedding.”</p>
<p>“When’s it to be?” came with a chuckle from
Betty.</p>
<p>“Next week.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Billy!”</p>
<p>“Don’t talk, darling.” Betty put a hand over
Jane’s mouth. “He’s made up his mind, and
when a man makes up his mind there’s no use
arguing with him. You might just as well submit
as unprotestingly as possible.”</p>
<p>“But, Billy, I can’t possibly——”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p>
<p>“No but, young lady. I have to go to the city
again next week, and you’re going with me.
We’ll buy what you need when we get there.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Jane. “I must have at least a
month, Billy.”</p>
<p>“A month!” cried Billy reproachfully. “How
can I wait a month?”</p>
<p>Betty sighed and turned away.</p>
<p>“I see you don’t need <em>me</em>,” she murmured, with
a mischievous glance. She picked a rose from a
bush near by and leveled it at them sternly. “I’ll
let you have this wedding on one condition!”</p>
<p>“What’s that?” they asked her, smiling.</p>
<p>“That you’ll let me be the bridesmaid.”</p>
<p>“Betty! As though we’d have any one else!”</p>
<p>They watched the pretty figure in the rose-colored
frock until it was out of sight, then Jane
and Billy turned to walk slowly down the path
toward the garden of their dreams.</p>
<p class="center">
THE END
</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="wd70p">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center boldfont fs200 letter-spsmall ">
THE BARTON BOOKS FOR GIRLS</p></div>
<p class="center fsans word-sp"><span class="bb bt"><span class="smcap"><b>By</b></span> <b>MAY HOLLIS BARTON</b></span>
</p>
<figure class="figleft illowe9" id="i002">
<img class="w100" src="images/i002.jpg" alt="picture of the cover of 'Nell Grayson's Ranching Days'">
</figure>
<p class="word-sp"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored jacket</i></p>
<p><i><b>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</b></i></p>
<p><i>May Hollis Barton is a new writer for girls
who is bound to win instant popularity. Her
style is somewhat of a mixture of that of
Louise M. Alcott and Mrs. L. T. Meade, but
thoroughly up-to-date in plot and action.
Clean tales that all girls will enjoy reading.</i></p>
<p>
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">1. THE GIRL FROM THE COUNTRY</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or Laura Mayford’s City Experiences</i></span>
</p>
<p>Laura was the oldest of five children and when daddy got sick she
felt she must do something. She had a chance to try her luck in New
York, and there the country girl fell in with many unusual experiences.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">2. THREE GIRL CHUMS AT LAUREL HALL</span><br>
<i>or The Mystery of the School by the Lake</i>
</p>
<p>When the three chums arrived at the boarding school they found
the other students in the grip of a most perplexing mystery. How
this mystery was solved, and what good times the girls had, both in
school and on the lake, go to make a story no girl would care to miss.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">3. NELL GRAYSON’S RANCHING DAYS</span><br>
<i>or A City Girl in the Great West</i>
</p>
<p>Showing how Nell, when she had a ranch girl visit her in Boston,
thought her chum very green, but when Nell visited the ranch in the
great West she found herself confronting many conditions of which
she was totally ignorant. A stirring outdoor story.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">4. FOUR LITTLE WOMEN OF ROXBY</span><br>
<i>or The Queer Old Lady Who Lost Her Way</i>
</p>
<p>Four sisters are keeping house and having trouble to make both
ends meet. One day there wanders in from a stalled express train an
old lady who cannot remember her identity. The girls take the old
lady in, and, later, are much astonished to learn who she really is.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">5. PLAIN JANE AND PRETTY BETTY</span><br>
<i>or The Girl Who Won Out</i>
</p>
<p>The tale of two girls, one plain but sensible, the other pretty but
vain. Unexpectedly both find they have to make their way in the
world. Both have many trials and tribulations. A story of a country
town and then a city.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center boldfont fs200 letter-spsmall ">THE RUTH FIELDING SERIES</p></div>
<p class="center fsans word-sp">
<span class="bb bt"><span class="smcap"><b>By</b></span> <b>ALICE B. EMERSON</b></span>
</p>
<figure class="figleft illowe9" id="i003">
<img class="w100" src="images/i003.jpg" alt="picture of the cover of 'Ruth Fielding in Alaska'">
</figure>
<p class="word-sp p2"><i>12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p>
<p class="p2"><i><b>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</b></i></p>
<p class="p2">Ruth Fielding was an orphan and came to
live with her miserly uncle. Her adventures
and travels make stories that will hold the interest
of every reader.</p>
<p class="p2 p2b">Ruth Fielding is a character that will live
in juvenile fiction.</p>
<ol>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'BRIARWOODHALL'" id="tn-ad">BRIARWOOD HALL</ins></li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING IN ALASKA</li>
<li class="boldfont letter-spsmall">RUTH FIELDING AND HER GREAT SCENARIO</li>
</ol>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center boldfont fs200 letter-spsmall">THE BETTY GORDON SERIES</p></div>
<p class="center fsans word-sp"><span class="bb bt"><span class="smcap"><b>By</b></span> <b>ALICE B. EMERSON</b></span>
<figure class="figleft illowe9" id="i004">
<img class="w100" src="images/i004.jpg" alt="picture of the cover of 'Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm'">
</figure>
<p class="word-sp"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p>
<p><i><b>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</b></i>
</p>
<p><span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">1. BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or The Mystery of a Nobody</i></span></p>
<p>At twelve Betty is left an orphan.</p>
<p>
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">2. BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or Strange Adventures in a Great City</i></span>
</p>
<p>Betty goes to the National Capitol to find
her uncle and has several unusual adventures.</p>
<p>
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">3. BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or The Farm That Was Worth a Fortune</i></span>
</p>
<p>From Washington the scene is shifted to the great oil fields of
our country. A splendid picture of the oil field operations of to-day.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">4. BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL</span><br>
<i>or The Treasure of Indian Chasm</i>
</p>
<p>Seeking treasures of Indian Chasm makes interesting reading.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">5. BETTY GORDON AT MOUNTAIN CAMP</span><br>
<i>or The Mystery of Ida Bellethorne</i>
</p>
<p>At Mountain Camp Betty found herself in the midst of a mystery
involving a girl whom she had previously met in Washington.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">6. BETTY GORDON AT OCEAN PARK</span><br>
<i>or School Chums on the Boardwalk</i>
</p>
<p>A glorious outing that Betty and her chums never forgot.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">7. BETTY GORDON AND HER SCHOOL CHUMS</span><br>
<i>or Bringing the Rebels to Terms</i>
</p>
<p>Rebellious students, disliked teachers and mysterious robberies
make a fascinating story.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">8. BETTY GORDON AT RAINBOW RANCH</span><br>
<i>or Cowboy Joe’s Secret</i>
</p>
<p>Betty and her chums have a grand time in the saddle.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">9. BETTY GORDON IN MEXICAN WILDS</span><br>
<i>or The Secret of the Mountains</i>
</p>
<p>Betty receives a fake telegram and finds both Bob and herself held
for ransom in a mountain cave.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">10. BETTY GORDON AND THE LOST PEARL</span><br>
<i>or A Mystery of the Seaside</i>
</p>
<p>Betty and her chums go to the ocean shore for a vacation and
there Betty becomes involved in the disappearance of a string of
pearls worth a fortune.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center boldfont fs200 letter-spsmall">THE LINGER-NOT SERIES</p></div>
<p class="center fsans word-sp"><span class="bb bt"><span class="smcap"><b>By</b></span> <b>AGNES MILLER</b></span></p>
<figure class="figleft illowe9" id="i005" >
<img class="w100" src="images/i005.jpg" alt="picture of the cover of 'The Linger-Nots and the Mystery House'">
</figure>
<p class="word-sp"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p>
<p><i><b>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</b></i>
</p>
<p><i>This new series of girls’ books is in a new
style of story writing. The interest is in knowing
the girls and seeing them solve the problems
that develop their character. Incidentally, a
great deal of historical information is imparted.</i></p>
<p ><span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">1. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE
MYSTERY HOUSE</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or The Story of Nine Adventurous Girls</i></span></p>
<p>How the Linger-Not girls met and formed
their club seems commonplace, but this
writer makes it fascinating, and how they
made their club serve a great purpose continues
the interest to the end, and introduces
a new type of girlhood.</p>
<p>
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">2. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE VALLEY FEUD</span><br>
<i>or The Great West Point Chain</i>
</p>
<p>The Linger-Not girls had no thought of becoming mixed up with
feuds or mysteries, but their habit of being useful soon entangled
them in some surprising adventures that turned out happily for all,
and made the valley better because of their visit.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">3. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THEIR GOLDEN QUEST</span><br>
<i>or The Log of the Ocean Monarch</i>
</p>
<p>For a club of girls to become involved in a mystery leading back
into the times of the California gold-rush, seems unnatural until the
reader sees how it happened, and how the girls helped one of their
friends to come into her rightful name and inheritance, forms a fine
story.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">4. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE WHISPERING
CHARMS</span><br>
<i>or The Secret from Old Alaska</i>
</p>
<p>Whether engrossed in thrilling adventures in the Far North or
occupied with quiet home duties, the Linger-Not girls could work
unitedly to solve a colorful mystery in a way that interpreted
American freedom to a sad young stranger, and brought happiness
to her and to themselves.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center boldfont fs200 letter-spsmall">
BILLIE BRADLEY SERIES</p>
</div>
<p class="center fsans word-sp"><span class="bb bt"><span class="smcap"><b>By</b></span> <b>JANET D. WHEELER</b></span></p>
<figure class="figleft illowe9" id="i006">
<img class="w100" src="images/i006.jpg" alt="picture of the cover of 'Billie Bradley at Twin Lakes'">
</figure>
<p class="word-sp"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p>
<p><i><b>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</b></i>
</p>
<p><span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">1. BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER
INHERITANCE</span>
<span class="p4l"><i>or The Queer Homestead at Cherry Corners</i></span></p>
<p>Billie Bradley fell heir to an old homestead
that was unoccupied and located far away in
a lonely section of the country. How Billie
went there, accompanied by some of her
chums, and what queer things happened, go
to make up a story no girl will want to miss.</p>
<p>
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">2. BILLIE BRADLEY AT THREE-TOWERS HALL</span><br>
<i>or Leading a Needed Rebellion</i>
</p>
<p>Three-Towers Hall was a boarding school for girls. For a short
time after Billie arrived there all went well. But then the head of
the school had to go on a long journey and she left the girls in charge
of two teachers, sisters, who believed in severe discipline and in very,
very plain food and little of it—and then there was a row! The girls
wired for the head to come back—and all ended happily.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">3. BILLIE BRADLEY ON LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND</span><br>
<i>or The Mystery of the Wreck</i>
</p>
<p>One of Billie’s friends owned a summer bungalow on Lighthouse
Island, near the coast. The school girls made up a party and visited
the Island. There was a storm and a wreck, and three little children
were washed ashore. They could tell nothing of themselves, and
Billie and her chums set to work to solve the mystery of their
identity.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">4. BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER CLASSMATES</span><br>
<i>or The Secret of the Locked Tower</i>
</p>
<p>Billie and her chums come to the rescue of several little children
who have broken through the ice. There is the mystery of a lost
invention, and also the dreaded mystery of the locked school tower.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">5. BILLIE BRADLEY AT TWIN LAKES</span><br>
<i>or Jolly Schoolgirls Afloat and Ashore</i>
</p>
<p>A tale of outdoor adventure in which Billie and her chums have a
great variety of adventures. They visit an artists’ colony and there
fall in with a strange girl living with an old boatman who abuses her
constantly. Billie befriended Hulda and the mystery surrounding
the girl was finally cleared up.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center boldfont fs200 letter-spsmall ">THE CURLYTOPS SERIES</p></div>
<p class="center fsans word-sp">
<span class="bb bt"><span class="smcap"><b>By</b></span> <b>HOWARD R. GARIS</b></span></p>
<figure class="figleft illowe9" id="i001" >
<img class="w100" src="images/i001.jpg" alt="picture of the cover of 'The Curlytops at Cherry Farm'">
</figure>
<p><i><b>Author of the famous “Bedtime Animal Stories”</b></i></p>
<p class="word-sp"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p>
<p><i><b>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</b></i>
</p>
<p class="p1">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall ">1. THE CURLYTOPS AT CHERRY FARM</span><br>
<span class="p4l">or Vacation Days in the Country</span>
</p>
<p>A tale of happy vacation days on a farm.</p>
<p>
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">2. THE CURLYTOPS ON STAR ISLAND</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or Camping out with Grandpa</i></span>
</p>
<p>The Curlytops camp on Star Island.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">3. THE CURLYTOPS SNOWED IN</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or Grand Fun with Skates and Sleds</i></span>
</p>
<p>The Curlytops on lakes and hills.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">4. THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE
FRANK’S RANCH</span><br>
<span class="p4l"><i>or Little Folks on Ponyback</i></span>
</p>
<p>Out West on their uncle’s ranch they have a wonderful time.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">5. THE CURLYTOPS AT SILVER LAKE</span><br>
<i>or On the Water with Uncle Ben</i>
</p>
<p>The Curlytops camp out on the shores of a beautiful lake.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">6. THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PETS</span><br>
<i>or Uncle Toby’s Strange Collection</i>
</p>
<p>An old uncle leaves them to care for his collection of pets.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">7. THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PLAYMATES</span><br>
<i>or Jolly Times Through the Holidays</i>
</p>
<p>They have great times with their uncle’s collection of animals.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">8. THE CURLYTOPS IN THE WOODS</span><br>
<i>or Fun at the Lumber Camp</i>
</p>
<p>Exciting times in the forest for Curlytops.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">9. THE CURLYTOPS AT SUNSET BEACH</span><br>
<i>or What Was Found in the Sand</i>
</p>
<p>The Curlytops have a fine time at the seashore.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">10. THE CURLYTOPS TOURING AROUND</span><br>
<i>or The Missing Photograph Albums</i>
</p>
<p>The Curlytops get in some moving pictures.</p>
<p class="hanging">
<span class="boldfont letter-spsmall">11. THE CURLYTOPS IN A SUMMER CAMP</span><br>
<i>or Animal Joe’s Menagerie</i>
</p>
<p>There is great excitement as some mischievous monkeys break
out of Animal Joe’s Menagerie.</p>
<p class="center word-sp bb p1b">
<i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i>
</p>
<p class="boldfont letter-spsmall">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers</p>
<p class="boldfont letter-spsmall rt">New York</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="transnote">
<p class="center">
Transcriber’s Notes
</p>
<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have
been silently corrected after careful comparison with
other occurrences within the text and consultation of
external sources. Some hyphens in words have been silently
removed and some silently added when a predominant
preference was found in the original book. Except for
those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text
and inconsistent or archaic usage have been retained.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><a href="#tn-5">Page 5</a>: “as suddenly at is” replaced by “as suddenly as it”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-13">Page 13</a>: “It you’ve got to” replaced by “If you’ve got to”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-14a">Page 14</a>: “clinging to its” replaced by “clinging to it”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-14b">Page 14</a>: “every one called his” replaced by “every one called him”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-15">Page 15</a>: “driver glared as” replaced by “driver glared at”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-31">Page 31</a>: “suddenly remembed” replaced by “suddenly remembered”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-40">Page 40</a>: “paint until is” replaced by “paint until it”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-50">Page 50</a>: “and buring brands” replaced by “and burning brands”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-60">Page 60</a>: “that I leant” replaced by “that I lent”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-82">Page 82</a>: “struggled off” replaced by “straggled off”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-106">Page 106</a>: “triumphant refran” replaced by “triumphant refrain”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-107">Page 107</a>: “to marked yet” replaced by “to market yet”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-111">Page 111</a>: “he told herself” replaced by “she told herself”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-116">Page 116</a>: “she poured over” replaced by “she pored over”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-166">Page 166</a>: “The tears softend” replaced by “The tears softened”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-201">Page 201</a>: “with a hightened” replaced by “with a heightened”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-203">Page 203</a>: “shall be, Bettykin” replaced by “shall we, Bettykin”.</p>
<p><a href="#tn-ad">Advertisement for Ruth Fielding series</a>: “BRIARWOODHALL” replaced by
“BRIARWOOD HALL”.</p>
</blockquote>
</div>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77832 ***</div>
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