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With Janice on one side to spur him, and Miss 'Rill's unbounded faith in him on the other hand, how could Hopewell Drugg fall back into the old aimless existence which had cursed him when first Janice had taken an interest in his little Lottie, his store, and himself? But, of course, Hopewell could not make trade.
Janice parted from the young engineer and walked up Hillside Avenue, intending to take supper at home and afterward return to the Drugg place to spend another night or two with the storekeeper's lonely wife.
"What can we do?" he asked quite blankly. "He he should be brought home." "My goodness!" Bowman stammered. "Do you suppose Mrs. Drugg would go down there after him?" "She mustn't," Janice hastened to reply, with decision; "but I will." "Not you, Janice!" Bowman exclaimed, recoiling at the thought. "Do you suppose I'd let you tell Mrs. Drugg?" demanded the girl, fiercely, yet under her breath.
I am jiggered!" for, educated man though he was, Mr. Massey had lived in the hamlet of his birth all of his life and spoke the dialect of the community. "Wal! I am jiggered!" he repeated. "What ye got there?" "I guess you see whom we have, Mr. Massey," said Frank Bowman pushing in and leading the storekeeper. "Oh, Mr. Massey! It's Hopewell Drugg," Janice said pleadingly. "Can't you help him?"
She pursued this thread of thought no further. Janice wondered then and she wondered afterward if this unexplained anxiety connected Hopewell Drugg with the dances at the Lake View Inn. Could it be possible that Janice Day had alighted from Walky Dexter's old carryall at the little grocery store for still another purpose? It was waning afternoon, yet she did not immediately make her way homeward.
Every neighborhood store must do this to keep trade. "I'm so glad to see you, Janice," 'Rill proclaimed, without coming from behind the counter. "You'll stay?" "Surely. Don't you see my bag?" returned Janice gaily. "Is Mr. Drugg going to be away all night?" "He he could not be sure. It's another dance," 'Rill said, rather apologetically. "He feels he must play when he can.
"I am beginning to believe so myself," the civil engineer returned. "I've seen enough drunken fellows before this to know that Hopewell doesn't show many of the usual symptoms." Janice halted suddenly. "There's a light in Mr. Massey's back room," she said. "Eh? Back of the drugstore? Yes, I see it," Bowman said, puzzled. "Why not take Mr. Drugg there and see if Massey can give him something?
Sprague daowntown was a-givin' twenty-three," said the customer slowly. "Perhaps he is, Mrs. Leggett. But Mr. Drugg cannot afford to give even a penny above the market price. Of course, either cash or trade just as you please." "Wal, I want some things an' I wasn't kalkerlatin' to go 'way daowntown ter-night it's so late," said Mrs. Leggett. 'Rill smiled and waited.
And after all, to be obliged to dispose of it Janice remembered how she had brought little Lottie home to the storekeeper the very day she first met him, and how he had played "Silver Threads Among the Gold" for her in the dark, musty back room of the old store. Why! Hopewell Drugg would be utterly lost without the old fiddle. She was glad Mrs.
Janice and Frank led Hopewell Drugg to the side door of the shop, he making no objection to the change in route. It was doubtful if he even knew where they were taking him. He seemed in a state of partial syncope. Frank had to knock the second time before there was any answer. They heard voices Massey's and another.
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