CHAPTER V. FATHER AND DAUGHTER
It did seem to Janice Day at this time as though trouble aftertrouble was being heaped upon her young shoulders. Miss Peckhamand her search for her Sam was, of course, a small mattercompared to the loss of the treasure-box and the heirlooms in it.
Janice waited eagerly for daddy to come home and report on thismatter; and his report, when he did come, sunk Janice's heartfathoms deep in an ocean of despair.
"Oh, Daddy, it can't be!" she cried, sobbing against his coatsleeve in the hall. "Olga wouldn't be so wicked! How couldshe?"
"It is pretty sure that she has left town and has left no addressbehind her. It looks as though she had deliberately tried toefface herself from the community," said Mr. Broxton Day slowly."Are you sure, Janice, that the box cannot be found?"
"Oh, Daddy! I've looked everywhere. Dear Mamma's picture that Iloved so much! And her, diary I"
"More than that, daughter, more than that," said her father, hisown voice breaking. "I should have been more careful aboutallowing you to take the box. There was something else--"
"Oh, Daddy! what? I didn't know there was a secret compartmentin the treasure-box," she added wonderingly.
"You would scarcely understand, my dear," he told her with aheavy sigh. "It was but a shallow place. There were letters init--letters which I treasured above everything else in the box.Letters your Mamma wrote me before you were born, when I was awayfrom home and she thought she might never see me again. We wereyoung, then, my dear; and we loved each other very much."
His voice trailed away into silence. The girl, young as she was,was awed by his grief. She suddenly realized that her own sorrowover the lost treasure-box was shallow indeed beside her father'sdespair.
It was some time later that she told him just how well she hadsearched for the missing box. She narrated, too, all theparticulars of the early morning cat episode and the troublebrought about by the mischief-loving Arlo Junior, which she hadbeen unable to tell him earlier in the day.
"It would seem, then," Mr. Day observed, not unamused by theaccount of the neighbors' boy's practical joke, "that if Olgatook the box it was on the spur of the moment. She certainly hadnot planned to leave us, but lost her temper and went because shewas in a rage."
"Yes, sir. I suppose so," admitted Janice. "And she was mad atme, too. I could see she thought I had shut the cats in the backkitchen."
"Yet Olga's going," said Mr. Broxton Day, still thoughtfully,"was skillfully planned--just as though she had everythingarranged for it before the row this morning. Don't justunderstand that."
"Oh, Daddy! You don't suppose Olga was one of those awful crookswe read of in the papers?"
Mr. Broxton threw back his head and laughed in his very heartiestfashion.
"Whatever else she was," he said, finally, "I don't think she wasa lady buccaneer. Olga Cedarstrom appeared to be almost asstupid a person as I ever saw. But she was bad tempered--no doubtof that."
"Yes, Daddy, her disposition was not very sweet,"
admitted Janice, with a sigh.
"But it looks queer," her father pursued. "Sending for anout-of-town taxi, and all I say, daughter which way did itdrive?"
"The taxicab?"
"Yes."
"Toward town, Daddy. Right along Knight Street."
"Humph! might have gone right through town and taken the Napsburgpike. Yet, they could have turned off at Joyce Street and gotinto the Dover pike. Or gone to Clewitt, or Preston. Oh, well,"finished Broxton Day, "that cab could have come from, andreturned to, any one of a dozen places within a few miles ofGreensboro."
"But how do you know she was not driven right to the railroadstation, as long as you are sure she did not go to Pickletown?"
"I found out," said Mr. Day, quietly, that there isn't a Swede intown who drives a taxi. And you say the driver was a Swede, andthat it was a regular taxicab."
"Oh, yes, Daddy. He was one of her own kind of folks. I heardthem talking together when he went up for her trunk. I wish Ihad taken the number of that cab!" cried Janice woefully.
"Never mind. Don't blame yourself too harshly, girly."
"But I do blame myself, Daddy," she cried, wiping her eyes."Those dear pictures and the diary! And most of all mother'sminiature! Why, Daddy Day! I'd give a million dollars ratherthan have lost the treasure-box."
"No use crying over the spilled milk," he said, reflectively."It does seem to me as though Olga was not just the sort ofperson who would steal--I say! You told me she telephoned for thetaxi?'
"Yes. At least, she telephoned and talked to somebody over the'phone in Swedish."
"You don't say!" repeated Mr. Day thoughtfully using a Yankeeismthat betrayed his birthplace if nothing else did, although he hadlong since come from New England to the Middle West. "Then inall probability she telephoned to a friend, and the friend sentthe taxicab. I wonder if that Willie Sangreen is in this?
"I tell you!" he exclaimed finally. "In the morning I will goand see the superintendent of our telephone exchange personally.Perhaps, when I explain the case, he will tell me the number Olgacalled up."
"Oh, Daddy! can you do that?"
"There is a record made of every call," he told her. "Now don'tworry more than you can help, Janice. We'll do something aboutit. Never fear."
His encouraging "do something" was bound to cheer his littledaughter. She hurried away to see if dinner was not ready, andcaught Delia frankly listening at the door.
"Why, Delia, why didn't you knock or speak?" Janice asked.
But Delia was absolutely unruffled. She drawled:
"I didn't know but you wanted to talk to your Paw some more, andthe dinner could wait."
When, a little later, they were seated at table and Deliaappeared with the first hot dishes, it must be confessed that herappearance somewhat startled Mr. Broxton Day.
Their anxiety about the lost treasure-box had precluded hishaving asked any questions regarding the new houseworker; herappearance was as startling as though she had come straight froma sideshow.
Janice put her napkin to her lips to hide their trembling. Buther eyes danced. Daddy's amazement was quickly smothered. Hewas silent, however, until Delia was out of the room again.
"What do you think of her, Daddy?" giggled the little girl.
"I certainly did not see her before hiring her. In fact, I didmy business over the phone with the manager of the intelligenceoffice. I gathered from him that
she was a woman of middle age, and "settled," whatever that maymean. If it means that she can work and stay settled here-- Butwhat a queer looking creature! How does she seem to take hold,Janice? Does she seem intelligent?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet," murmured his little daughter."She doesn't look as though she knew anything at all. But maybeshe does. You said yourself that we couldn't have anybody worsethan Olga."
"I don't know about that," he retorted. "I may have to take thatback. Sh! Here she comes again."
Aside from the fact that she served cold plates for the roast andvegetables, and hot ones for the salad; that from her greatheight she was almost certain to spill food on the table beforeshe got a dish set down before them; and that she kept bouncingin and out of the dining room to ask them if they were ready fordessert; she managed to get through the meal without making Mr.Day and Janice any great discomfort.
In the living room, later, when Mr. Day was in his comfortablechair and Janice had her school books spread out upon the tableunder the reading lamp, the father said softly:
"Well, my dear, it is not the sort of life I hoped we would leadwhen we built this house. Your dear mother was such a wonderfulhousekeeper, and could manage so well. I never had a thought ora care about the housekeeping affairs. But now--"
"I know, Daddy," broke in Janice earnestly. "If only I didn'thave to go to school!"
"That is something that cannot even be discussed," he rejoined,smiling at her gravely. "As I told
you last night, my dear, whatyour mother and I planned regarding your education must becarried through if possible."
"But college is a long way ahead," said Janice wistfully. "Andmeanwhile you are not comfortable and the house is going to rackand ruin, just as Miss Peckham says."
"Did the old girl say that?" he wanted to know, with rather arueful smile on his lips.
"Yes. She was in here the other day and she is so nosey. Shewas bound to go all through house, although I did not want herto. I know it doesn't look spick and span as it should--"
"That is not your fault, Janice," her father said quickly."Don't let it worry you. You must stick to your books. And ifwe can get nobody better than this woman--or Olga--to help, wemust expect things to be in rather bad shape about the house.
"I suppose there are good housekeepers for hire--somewhere.They certainly do not seem to be in Greensboro. And, then, Icannot afford to pay a very high wage. You see, my dear, we arenot rich."
"No, Daddy," Janice agreed. "I quite know that. But we haveenough, and to spare, I am sure."
"So far we have managed to pull along," he said smiling at herquizzically. "And perhaps we shall be even better off in time.I am up to my neck, as the boys say, in an investment in Mexicanmines. I was able to get into it before your dear mother died,and she quite approved. Several Greensboro men have invested inthe same string of mines and there is ore being got out--ore ofgood quality.
"But thus far there have been no dividends. Rather, we have hadto put in more money for improvements. But when once we getstarted producing, you and I may have something like riches."
"Oh, won't that be nice, Daddy!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed andred-cheeked in her excitement. "To be really rich!"
"Well, we shall be able to engage somebody better fitted perhapsfor the position of housekeeper," sighed Mr. Day, turning to hisnewspaper again.
"That's all right, Daddy," she said. "But meanwhile I am goingto do all I can to make things go smoother. Just as you said lastnight, it can only be brought about by somebody's doingsomething. I'll do something, you see if I don't."
She made this declaration cheerfully. But when she closed herbooks, kissed daddy, and went up to bed, her countenance wasovercast with an expression far from cheerful.
Only the evening before she had sat here and looked her treasuresover. The diary which mother had kept when she was a littlegirl--all the innocent little secrets she had written on thepages which Janice so delighted to read!
And the lovely miniature, with mother in the very dress she worethe evening she and Broxton Day were betrothed. Janice knew allabout that. Her mother had talked freely of her courtship and ofwhat a splendid young man daddy had appeared to be in her eyes.
Her mother's frequently expressed admiration for the young manwho came from New England to win his fortune in the Middle Westwas doubtless the foundation of Janice Day's unusual fondness forher father.
That by her carelessness she should have brought about the lossof the treasure-box and those things which both she and daddyconsidered of such personal value, was the thought that weighedmost heavily on the girl's heart.
Without turning on her light, she went to the window and lookedout into the soft spring darkness! Daddy's letters! Mother'sminiature! The treasured old diary that Janice so loved!
Her troubled little heart overflowed. She flung herself downwith her face hidden in her arms folded upon the window sill,while ungovernable sobs shook her body.
The loss of the treasure-box was a disaster for, which she couldnot easily forgive herself.