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Updated: August 17, 2024
So the following afternoon she came home by the Lower Road, meaning to call on the schoolmaster. She stopped her car before Hopewell Drugg's store and ran in there first. 'Rill was behind the counter; but from the back room the wail of the violin announced Hopewell's presence.
More light came through the panes of that window than usually ventured in upon a sunshiny day! The balance of the task was a pleasure. Her bright eyes had noted the newer goods upon Mr. Drugg's shelves. She selected samples of the more recent canned goods those of which the labels on the cans were fresh and bright.
Middler rather, through a certain conversation with the minister that Janice received the greatest help during these weeks when her father's fate remained uncertain. She could not spend all her time at Hopewell Drugg's, or with Walky Dexter, or even about the old Day house. Autumn had come, and the mornings were frosty. The woods were aflame with the sapless leaves.
The little maiden lady seemed to understand better than most people just how Janice was troubled by her father's absence, his silence, and his peril. Besides, when old Mrs. Scattergood did not know, many were the times that 'Rill and Janice went to Hopewell Drugg's and "tidied up" the cottage for him.
Janice and Marty went down town together after supper. Even Poketown showed some special light and life at this season. Dusty store windows were rejuvenated; candles, and trees, and tinsel, and wreathes blossomed all along High Street. Janice was proud to know that the brightest windows, and the most tastefully dressed, were Hopewell Drugg's.
Marty emitted a shrill whistle of surprise. "What d'ye know about that?" he added, in a low voice. There was no mistaking the figure which turned the corner toward Hopewell Drugg's store. It was the proprietor of the store himself, with his fiddle in its green baize bag tightly tucked under his arm; but his feet certainly were unsteady, and his head hung upon his breast.
As they came up the hill toward Hopewell Drugg's store they saw a dim light in the storekeeper's back room, and the wailing notes of his violin reached their ears. "Hopewell is grinding out his usual classic," chuckled Nelson Haley. "I hear him at it morning, noon, and night. Seems to me 'Silver Threads Among the Gold' is kind of passé." "Hush!" said Janice.
"Let him alone, Joe Bodley!" commanded Bowman again, and Janice, shaking on the porch, knew that it must be the barkeeper who had interfered with Hopewell Drugg's escape. The girl was terror-stricken; but she was indignant, too. She shrank from facing the half-intoxicated crowd in the room just as she would have trembled at the thought of entering a cage of lions.
"There is somebody standing at the side gate, listening. You see, sir, everybody doesn't have the same opinion of poor Mr. Drugg's music " "My goodness!" ejaculated Nelson, under his breath. "It's Miss Scattergood, I do believe!" The timid little spinster could not escape. They had come upon her so quietly. "Oh! is it you, Janice dear?" she said, in a startled voice. "And Mr. Haley.
And I thought I was going to make him oh! so happy." "Hush! hush, dear!" murmured Janice, for Mrs. Drugg's eyes had run over and she sobbed aloud. "He loves you just the same. I can see it in the way he looks at you. And why should he not love you?" "But he has lost his cheerfulness. He worries about Lottie, I know. There there is another thing " She stopped.
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