CHAPTER XXIAFTER THE DANCE
Thatform of chastisement might have had a salutary effect upon Annette Bowman. Certainly, as it was, she behaved no better on the way to Polktown than she had at Judge Slater’s dance.
In the first place, she objected audibly to being crowded in between Mrs. Day and Janice on the back seat on the sleigh. “It does seem to me, Frank, that you might have obtained transportation for us in some other vehicle,” she said aloud. “And why you should need me in Polktown, just because you might be called away to-morrow, I fail to see. I think you might have some feeling for me, Frank. You are just as selfish as you can be.”
“Now, young lady, don’t you be a-fussin’ and a-fumin’,” said Aunt ’Mira comfortably. “The closer we air packed in here, the warmer we will be goin’ home. Jest you snuggle right down and keep out o’ the wind. Wind’s on my side, anyway; and I be sech an elephant that both o’ you gals kin be sheltered.”
Aunt ’Mira began to chuckle. “I don’t keer,Janice, I did dance two of them funny dances. Miz’ Cora Pease an’ I done ’em together, and I bet we looked like two circus elephants a-waltzin’. But ’twas fun—I ain’t done the like at a public dance since Jason and I was courtin’.
“Goodness me! That was a long spell ago, warn’t it? But we ain’t got no business to be old before our time. I gotter wake Jason up—I sartainly have!”
“I’d like to see you git Dad out to a dance,” remarked Marty. “That would foretell the Crack o’ Doom!”
“Don’t you keer,” said his mother cheerfully. “Ye’ll likely see a hull lot o’ surprisin’ things b’fore you die, Marty. And if you see your father and your mother a-growin’ younger, instead of older, you’d ought to be glad of that.”
“Crackey!” exclaimed Marty, “if that happens where’ll I be? Pretty soon I’ll be back inter pinafores. Good-night!”
Janice laughed and said: “And I’ll be curling him’s pretty hair and dressing him for Sunday School. I always did wish I had a baby brother, and you’ll do very well, Marty. Hurry up and grow backward, dear. I want to see how cunning you’d be in pinafores.”
“Huh!” snorted Marty. “Don’t you think you’re smart?”
Annette entered into none of this simple fun,whereas her brother was soon the life of the homegoing party. He did not wish his sister to suspect that he had anything to trouble him, and he succeeded very well.
Annette took all of the seat she conveniently could, ramming her elbows on either side into her companions. Aunt ’Mira was too “cushiony” to mind this; but Janice was made very uncomfortable physically as well as mentally by the selfishness of the older girl.
Everybody was glad when the sorrel team struck into High Street. It was midnight and the town was asleep. They were almost the first of the revelers to return. Marty drove to the Inn, where the Bowmans disembarked. Frank thanked the Days warmly for their courtesy; but Annette stalked into the Inn without even bidding them good-night.
“I’d like to have that girl for a sister,” grunted Marty, when they turned into Hillside Avenue. “Huh!”
Janice had not found much enjoyment in the barn dance, although she was asked to dance frequently, and had been on the floor as much as was good for her. The athletic instructor at the seminary had insisted on even the day scholars attending the dancing classes twice a week in the school gymnasium, and Janice knew how to dance some of the more modern dances approved by saner people.
Although Nelson Haley was at the dance he had not come near her and Janice was disappointed. She was always hoping that at some informal party like this one, she would find an opportunity to speak confidentially to the school teacher. But that occasion never seemed to present itself.
Now that snow covered the ground she could use her car no more, and she was away from home from Monday morning until Friday evening. She boarded with a widowed lady near the seminary.
Janice missed her rides in the automobile, for jogging along behind Walky Dexter’s old horses was not much fun. There was a week’s vacation at Thanksgiving, and at the very beginning of that recess the weather unaccountably changed. The thermometer rose with a bound, rain fell in torrents, and all the snow was washed off the hillsides. It cleared off warm, too—an unseasonable change that did nobody any good. Colds and other physical troubles were immediately prevalent and the local physicians had their hands full.
The roads were so well drained about Polktown that they dried immediately. Janice got out the car and ran up into the woods to see how the Trimmins family were getting on. Dr. Poole was still in attendance on little Buddy and he saw to it that the other children were prevented from getting any childish ills at this time. She met the good doctor at the squatters’ cabin.
“Put out your tongue and let’s feel your pulse, Janice,” he said, gruffly. “I don’t want you getting sick. I’ve got some serious cases of grippe in town and one I’m afraid will result in pneumonia. I warned that stubborn fellow; but he thought he knew more than I did. Ought to have gone to bed two days before school closed; but he said he’d wait and be sick during this vacation—and heis.”
“Whom do you mean, Doctor?” asked Janice, with sudden apprehension.
“That Nelse Haley—reckless fellow! His temperature this morning was a hundred and three, and still going up.”
“The school teacher!” cried Janice, in sudden alarm.
“Yes. Mrs. Beasely has got her hands full with him. He’s not an easy patient to nurse. Won’t obey orders,” said the doctor, as he climbed into his gig.
This worried Janice a good deal. She stopped at the Scattergoods on her way home and asked about Nelson.
“Yeou better go in an’ try nussin’ him, Janice Day,” said the old lady, nodding her head emphatically. “I jest come from there an’ Miz’ Beasely is a-flyin’ ’round like a hen with its head cut off. She never was no hand with sick folks and she can’t manage him wuth a cent.”
Miss ’Rill followed her out to the car and whispered:“I’ll let you know how he’s getting on, Janice. Of course, he isn’t as bad as mother makes out. She is always making a mountain out of a mole-hill.”
But Janice was very much worried. That evening she sent Marty over to Hopewell Drugg’s to get the latest news of the teacher’s illness, and the boy came back looking very serious indeed, for him.
“Doc Poole’s been there again this evening,” Marty reported. “They say he’s out of his head and the Doc is ’fraid it will turn into pneumonia. My goodness! it would be mighty tough if we lost Nelson Haley. He’s the best teacher we ever had in the Polktown school.”
Janice listened to the kindly comments of her uncle and aunt, but she had little to say herself. When she went to bed she added a petition for Nelson to her evening prayer; and it was a long time ere she got to sleep that night.