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Updated: June 18, 2025
Aside from the fact that the house needed paint and new window shutters, and a new roof, and new planks for the piazza, and numerous other things, it was not such a bad looking house. Janice noticed something at first glance: it was only things that poor people could not get or that a boy could not tinker that was needed about the Carringford house to make it neat and comfortable.
Of course Tom knew what it was that engaged the attention of his comrade, and he only hoped Jack might not meet with any bad luck in his endeavor to learn something of the movements of his cousin, Randolph Carringford. Then came the afternoon. From indications Tom fancied that would be their last night in the old dugout.
Carringford has no money to pay lawyer's fees, or settle cases," urged Janice. "True. And that is the unfortunate part of it. Let us wait and see what Mr. Payne advises after he has looked into the matter. Whatever he says, she would better do." This ended the matter for the time being. But all the dark clouds of trouble seemed to have lowered upon the Carringfords again.
"I hear you!" exclaimed the man at the other end, and Janice almost threw the receiver back on the hook, and darted into the living room. Mrs. Carringford happened to be out. Janice, now that Bertha Warring had deserted her, was all alone in the house with the injured man. "Oh, Daddy!" she gasped, seeing him already in his chair. "Give me a push, child. Where is the fire?
I should think even a girl of your age could have seen she was more'n half crazy. Wouldn't expect your father to notice nothing. He's only a man." "Oh! Really crazy, do you mean?" Amy Carringford burst out. "She never was more'n half bright, that Biddy Garrity. That was her name before she married Tom Burns. And he died. Blowed up in the powder mill. That was old Garrity who came for her.
"Of course, we all know Amy Carringford is poor just as poor as poverty," one of them said at recess. "But that is no reason for telling her so!" This girl was quite energetic in saying this and more to the offending Stella. "Just because you ride in an automobile, and your father owns a farm, you need not think that you are better than anybody else in our class for you're not, Stella Latham!
Amy was a smart little housewife, and she had a gentle but firm way with the smaller children that kept them well in hand when their mother was out of the way. Gummy, driving Mr. Harriman's delivery wagon, was at the Day house once or twice a day to see his mother, and of course Mrs. Carringford was always at home by seven or eight o'clock at night.
"I think I tried to at least once," her schoolmate said mildly. "Nothing of the kind! You did something for Amy Carringford the pauper! You were spoons with her then, and you wanted to get her to my party. You begged an invitation for her and then dressed her up. like a freak so she could come, and " "That is not so, Stella," Janice interrupted with some spirit.
Carringford, and now Janice was near enough to take the hand of Amy's mother. "How do you do, my dear? I have seen you before. I am always glad to meet Amy's school friends." Had it not been for the warmth of the good woman's greeting Janice would have felt that she was unwelcome at the little cottage on Mullen Lane. Amy seemed to hang back, and not invite her schoolmate into the house.
"Perhaps that is wicked," Janice told herself. "But wicked, or not, it does seem as though it would just kill me to leave home." After Mrs. Carringford had finished cleaning house, the home seemed so much better and brighter that Janice loved it more than ever. She did not want to leave Eight Hundred and Forty-five Knight Street, even for a day.
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