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Updated: June 14, 2025
"I don't care if Arlo Junior does toll cats into our back kitchen and we entertain dancing bears and that half-crazy Delia and folks like Mrs. Watkins or Olga Cedarstrom," she said to daddy. "This is just the nicest house in all the world. Don't you think so yourself, Daddy?" "I never expect to have so much happiness in another house as I have had in this one, my dear," Mr. Day said.
"Bread-butter. Pietro lika heem." "That Arlo Weeks Junior!" cried Janice suddenly. "Oh, Daddy, there he is outside." There was a loud explosion of laughter back of the bear and his trainer, on the dark porch, and then the clatter of running feet. Junior's proclivity for practical jokes was too well known for the Days to doubt his connivance in this most surprising happening.
She marched on, leaving the scattered crowd of urchins to gather again about Arlo Junior, but now in a scoffing rather than in an admiring crowd. The bubble of Arlo Junior's conceit had been punctured. He had been whipped by a girl! "Now," thought Janice, as she went along home, "I would not want Daddy to know I did that. Fighting a boy on the street!
"Perhaps next week will bring us good fortune, my dear," he said. "How did you get on to-day, all alone? I see the silver has been polished." "Only some of it, Daddy. And I have been a busy bee, now I tell you." "Bravo, my dear! The busy bee makes the honey." "And has a stinger, too," she replied roguishly. "I guess Arlo Junior thinks so."
Arlo Junior was the child of all others in the neighborhood whom Miss Peckham carried on guerrilla warfare with. She had threatened to go to the police station and have Arlo Junior locked up the very next time he crossed her path in a mischievous way.
Junior kept well out of the way at first, but his tone was confident well as ameliorating. "Aw, I say, Janice? he begged, "you ain't mad at me, are you?" "Why shouldn't I be?" she demanded, her face flushing and the hazel eyes sparking in an indignant way. "Well, I mean Well, I hope you ain't," stammered Arlo Junior, unable entirely to smother a grin, and yet plainly anxious to pacify Janice.
"I know! Wait!" Janice dashed out of the room and out of the house. A crowd of children was still at the gate. "Arlo Junior!" she called into the dusk, "Come here! I want you." "You want my pa. He ain't home yet," said Junior, drawing near slowly. "I want you to do an errand for me," said Janice hastily. "Come here close. I'll tell you. Your mother won't mind."
Something funny about the way you answer," said the suspicious spinster. "where was Sam when you saw him that early?" "Running across our back yard," Janice gasped, telling the exact truth but no more. "Ha!" exploded the other, "What made him run?" After all, Janice Day did not want to "tell on" Arlo Junior.
"Yes, Daddy. I guess it wasn't very ladylike. But I'm not a hoodlum!" "Why was it that you did not want me to mention Arlo Junior?" asked Mr. Day curiously. "Well, you see, I sort of promised him I wouldn't tell about what he did to the cats, if he came in here Saturday and helped me clean that back kitchen." "Ho, ho! I see.
She wanted him to go on an errand. She saw what he had been doing for me, for he had an apron on and the broom in his hand." "Caught with the goods, in other words?" chuckled Mr. Day. "Yes. And we couldn't tell her why he was helping me. So she said right out: "'Why, Arlo Junior!
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