CHAPTER II. THE HUNT FOR THE TREASURE-BOX
This was a very tragic happening in Janice Day's life. She hadnever been regardless of important matters; that was why daddyhad not even warned her to be careful of the treasure-box.
He assumed that she would consider its precious contents andguard it accordingly. Why! He had not even mentioned it thismorning, he had been so confident of her good sense.
And because of Arlo Junior and a bunch of cats she had forgottenall about her mother's miniature and all the other heirlooms inthe treasure-box! Her tears were those of anger at herself aswell as sorrow because of the disappearance of the heirlooms.Yet at the moment she did not fully appreciate the full weight ofthe happening.
Janice could not stand and cry about it. She had assured herselfthat the treasure-box was not where she had left it--was not inthe storeroom at all, as far as she could see. Olga certainlyhad not picked it up and placed it in any of the rooms on thissecond floor, or anywhere else where it could be easily seen.
Janice could only believe that the Swedish girl, either byintention or in some involuntary way, had carried thetreasure-box off with her. Yet it did not seem as though OlgaCedarstrom, bad temper and all, could be a thief! That was anawful thought.
"Maybe she has done it to plague me," Janice thought. "She isawfully mad at me. She thought it was my fault that the cats gotinto the back kitchen. And now she means to pay me back. Shemeans to return it."
"But where has she gone? And what shall I do?" were the finalqueries formed in Janice Day's mind.
She must not stand idle. It was nearing school time. Nor couldshe neglect the matter until she came home from school at threeo'clock. If Olga Cedarstrom were really dishonest, she might begetting farther and farther away from Greensboro while Janiceremained inactive!
She must do something.
Janice went slowly downstairs. First Of all it was her duty tocommunicate with her father at the bank. She hated to tell himof this happening, for she realized keenly her fault in thematter. But not for a moment did the girl consider hiding theunfortunate affair from Broxton Day.
She went to the telephone and called the bank When she asked forMr. Day. She could almost see him taking the receiver from thehook when the bell on his telephone rang.
"Yes?" Daddy's voice sounded clearly and courteously over thewire. "This is Day."
"Often when he said this over the telephone Janice would respond,giggling: "And this is Knight--Street! Number eight-forty-five."
But she did not feel at all like joking on this occasion. All ina rush she told him of the tragic happening.
"And I don't know what to do, Daddy," was the way in which sheended her story.
Even over the telephone the girl realized that her father wasmore startled than she expected him to be, His voice did notsound at all natural as he asked:
"Do you mean to tell me that everything that was in that box islost, Janice? Everything?"
"Oh, Daddy!" choked the girl, "I put everything back before Iclosed the box--mamma's picture, and her diary, and all."
"There were other things--"
"Oh, yes! The jewelry and the photographs," said Janice.
"More than those," her father's hoarse voice said quickly. "Icannot explain to you now, my child. Didn't you know there was afalse bottom in that box?"
"A false bottom to the treasure-box, Daddy?" she criedwonderingly. "A secret compartment."
"Oh! I didn't know--"
"No, of course not. I blame myself, my dear," he added, and sheknew that he was striving to control his voice. "Do not cry anymore. I will explain when come home."
"Oh, Daddy!"
"Are you sure you have looked carefully for the box?" and he nowspoke more moderately.
"Oh, yes, Daddy."
"Looked everywhere?"
"Indeed I have."
"Then, daughter, by the face of the clock in front of me, Iadvise you to hurry away to school. I will see what can be done.You say Olga went away in a taxicab?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Of course, you did not notice the number of the car?"
"Oh, no, sir. But the man was a Swede like Olga. And he came inand carried down her trunk." '
"I will see what can be done. Go to school like a good girl anddo not let anxiety spoil your recitations. Good-bye."
He hung up the receiver and Janice followed his example. Thereseemed nothing else she could do.
She would have been late for school had not Stella Latham drivenby the Day cottage in her father's car just as Janice came out.Stella lived some distance out of town, her father being awell-to-do farmer, and she was driven in daily by either herbrother or one of the farm hands.
Janice saw the automobile coming in the distance and soonrecognized the Latham car.
"Dear me!" she sighed, "I hope Stella will not turn down HesterStreet. If she comes this far she'll be sure to ask me to ride,and then I can get to school on time"
With rather anxious eyes Janice watched the oncoming car. Yes,it passed Hester Street and came on down Knight Street to make alater turn off toward the schoolhouse. The car almost shot pastJanice before the girl inside saw her on the sidewalk. Then thegirl suddenly leaned out of the swiftly moving car.
"Oh, Janice Day!" screamed Stella, warning her driver to stopwith one hand while she beckoned to Janice with the other."Hurry! You'll be late. Get in here."
Janice ran after the car, glad of the lift. Stella was a buxomgirl, a year or two older than Janice, but in the latter's gradeat school. "Ever so nice" Janice thought her. But, Janicethought most of her school friends were "nice." She was friendlytoward them, so they had no reason to be otherwise than kind toher.
Not that Janice Day was either namby-pamby or stupid. She hadopinions, and expressed them frankly; and she possessed a strongwill of her own. But she not to hurt other people's feelings;and if she stood up for her opinions, she usually did so withoutantagonizing anybody.
"You're just the girl I wanted to see, anyway, Janice, beforeschool," Stella said, as the younger girl hopped into the tonneauand the chauffeur let in the clutch again.
"Now you see--all of me!" said Janice brightly, trying to put thetrouble of the lost treasure-box behind her.
Her eyelids were just a little red, and she took one more long,sobbing breath. But Stella was so very much interested in herown affairs that she noticed nothing at all strange about herfriend.
"Oh, Janice!" Stella said, "I'm to have a birthday party. Youknow, I told you all about it before." "Yes, Stella, you toldme," agreed Janice.
"Of course I did. And I want you to come. I couldn't reallyhave a party without you, Janice. But I am not so sure aboutsome of the girls."
"Oh, dear me!" murmured Janice. "If I was going to have aregular party I'd invite all the girls in our class--or else noneat all."
"Now, that's just like you! You always are so quick. How did youknow I didn't want to invite her?" complained Stella, pouting.
"I didn't know. Whom do you mean to leave out?" Janice asked,smiling.
"There! That's what my mother says! You are always so shrewd andsly."
"Oh!" cried Janice not at all pleased, "does your mother think Iam sly?"
"We-ell, she said you were shrewd," admitted Stella, changingcolor. "Now, don't get mad, Janice Day. I want you to help me."
"You go about it in a funny way," said Janice, rather piqued. "Iam not sly enough to be of any use to you, I guess."
"Now, don't be angry!" wailed the other girl. "What I mean is,that you always see through things and can get out ofdifficulties."
"I didn't know I got into difficulties--not many anyway," Janiceadded, with a little sigh.
"Dear me, Janice! don't split hairs--please," said the veryselfish and self-centered Stella. "I want your help. Do tell mehow to get out of asking that girl to my party without offendingher friends--for she has got friends, curiously enough."
"For goodness'
sake!" gasped Janice. "What girl do you wish tosnub, Stella?"
"There you go with your nasty insinuations!" exclaimed Stella,whiningly. "I don't want to snub anybody. But some people areimpossible!"
"Meaning me?" Janice asked with twinkling eyes.
"Of course not. Why will you so misunderstand me? I wouldn'tsnub you, Janice Day. I am speaking of Amy Carringford."
"Oh! It is Amy you wish to snub, is it?" Janice said, with achange of tone.
Even Stella noted the change. She seized Janice's arm.
"Now, don't! You made me say that. I don't really want to snubher. I don't want to hurt her feelings. But, of course, I can'thave those pauper children at my party--Amy and Gummy. 'Gummy!'What a frightful name! And his pants are patched at the knees.They wouldn't--either of them--have a decent thing to wear, ofcourse."
Janice said nothing for a long minute. Stella's blue eyes, whichwere actually more staring than pretty, began to cloud ominously.Instinctively she sensed that Janice was not with her in this.
"Amy Carringford is a nice girl, I think," Janice Day saidmildly. "And perhaps she has a party dress, Stella."
"There you go! Always standing up for anything mean or common,"stormed Stella. "I might have known you wouldn't help me."
"Why did you ask me then?" Janice inquired with some risingspirit.
"Because you're always so sharp about things; and you can help meif you want to."
Stella Latham was certainly much more frankly spoken thanpolitic. Janice Day excused her schoolmate to a degree. Sheusually found excuses for every one but herself.
"I was only trying to help you," Janice said slowly. you haven'treally anything against Amy, have you?"
"She's a pauper--a regular pauper."
"Why, that's not so," interrupted Janice. "A pauper must be onewho is supported at the public expense. We had that word onlythe other day in our lesson, you know, Stella. And AmyCarringford--or her folks-- aren't like that."
"Nobody knows what or who they are. They've only just come hereand from goodness knows where. And they live in that littletumble-down house in Mullen Lane, and--"
"Oh, dear me, Stella!" interrupted Janice, with a sudden laugh."That list of crimes will never send anybody to jail. You areawfully critical. Amy has awfully pretty manners, and justwonderful hair. She sings and dances well, too. AndGummy--'Gumswith' is his full name--"
"'Gumswith!' Fancy!" ejaculated the farmers critical
daughter.
"Yes, isn't it awful?" returned Janice. "Anybody would be sorryfor a boy with such a name. And he hasn't even a middle one theycan call him by. You know it isn't his fault, Stella, that hehas such a horrid name."
"No, I don't suppose it is. But--"
"And Amy is so nice. She is just about my size, Stella, and ifyou promise never to tell--"
"What is it? A secret?" eagerly demanded Stella, as Janicehesitated.
"Yes. Or it will be a secret if you promise."
"Cross my heart, Janice," declared Stella, who loved secrets.
"Well--now," said Janice Day, most seriously, "if you invite Amy,and she can't come because she hasn't any party dress, I'll lendher one of mine that was made for me just before my mother died.I am wearing only black and white. I've outgrown those newdresses that were made for me then, I guess. And Amy is just aweeny bit smaller than I am."
"But Janice Day! you--you're helping Amy Carringford. You're nothelping me at all!"
"Why, yes I am helping you," said Janice warmly. "At least, I amtrying to. If you will invite Amy with the rest of us girls,I'll see that she has a party dress. I should think that washelping you a whole lot, Stella Latham. You said you didn't wantto hurt her feelings."
The car reached the schoolhouse. Janice was out of it like aflash with her schoolbooks and lunch. The bell was tolling.
"Now, isn't that just like Janice Day?" grumbled Stella,following her from the automobile. "She is a sly little thing!"
Mr. Broxton Day felt much more troubled than Janice possiblycould feel about the disappearance of the treasure-box and thekeepsakes it contained. Intrinsically, the value of the articlesthat she named was not very great, although nothing could replacethe diary or the miniature of his dead wife. But as he hadintimated to Janice over the telephone there was something else.There was that lost with the so-called treasure-box that meantmore to him than the mementoes his daughter had known about.
During this lonely year that had passed since his wife's death,Mr. Day's experiences with domestic help had been dishearteningas well as varied.
Olga Cedarstrom had been with them two months. She had comerather better recommended than some of her predecessors. Insteadof obtaining her services through an agency, Mr. Day had foundher in "Pickletown," as the hamlet at the pickle works wascalled.
There Olga, recently arrived in Greensboro, had been living withfriends. Mr. Day went over there first of all to search for thegirl.
But her whilom friends knew nothing about Olga since the previousevening. They did not know that she contemplated leaving Mr.Day. And she had not appeared at Pickletown after she haddeparted from eight hundred and forty-five Knight Street thatmorning.
Mr. Day did not wish to put the police on the trail of the absentOlga. In the first place there was no real evidence that theSwedish girl had stolen the box of mementoes.
If she had taken them at all, she must have done so just to piqueJanice, not understanding how really valuable the contents of thebox were. If possible, Mr. Day wished to recover the lost boxwithout the publicity of going to the police, both for Olga'ssake and for his own.
And then as Janice had told him, the taxicab driver had been inthe house. He had gone upstairs to the storeroom for Olga'strunk--to the very room in which Janice had last seen thetreasure-box.
It might be that the driver was the person guilty of taking thebox. Olga might know nothing about it. Yet her disappearancewithout informing her friends of her intention to leaveGreensboro looked suspicious.
Mr. Day had to search further. He had two other persons todiscover. One was Olga's "fella"; the other was the Swedishtaxicab driver.
From people who knew Olga around the pickle factories it was easyto learn that Olga's friend was a hard working and estimableyoung man named Willie Sangreen. Just at this time Willie wasaway from home. They could tell Mr. Day nothing about Willie'sabsence either at his boarding-house, or where he was employed.But in both instances they were sure Willie would be back.
In hunting for the Swedish taxicab driver Mr. Day had even lessgood fortune. There were two taxicab companies in Greensboro andless than a dozen independent owners of cabs. Before noon he hadlearned, beyond peradventure, that there was not a cab driver intown of Swedish nationality.
He presumed that the cab must have come from out of town. Whereit had come from, and where it had gone with Olga, and Olga'strunk, and, possibly, with the treasure-box, seemed a mysteryinsolvable.
If Olga or the cab driver had stolen the box of heirlooms itseemed that all trace of their whereabouts had been skillfullycovered.