"And if we are to believe Mr. Ma.s.sey," added Janice, "there are not many ten dollar gold pieces of that particular date in existence."

"We don't really know. Perhaps Ma.s.sey is mistaken. We know he was excited," said Nelson.

"Hold hard, now," advised Uncle Jason, "It's a breach in their walls, nevertheless."

"How is that, Mr. Day?" asked the schoolmaster.

"Why, don't you see?" said Uncle Jason, puffing on his pipe in some excitement. "They have opened th' way for Doubt ter stalk in," and he chuckled. "Them committeemen have been toller'ble sure--er they've _said_ they was--it was you stole the money, Mr. Haley. If they can't connect this coin with you at all, they'll sartain sure be up a stump.

And they air a-breakin' down their own case against ye. I guess I'm lawyer enough ter see that."

"Oh, goodness, Uncle Jason! So they will!" cried Janice.

"But it does not seem reasonable that the person stealing the coins would spend one of them in Polktown," Nelson said slowly.

"I dunno," reflected Mr. Day. "I never did think that a thief had any medals fer good sense--nossir! He most allus leaves some openin' so's ter git caught."

"And if he spent the money at the tavern--and for liquor--of course he _couldn't_ have good sense."

"I take off my hat to you on that point, Janice," laughed Nelson. "I believe you are right."

"Ya-as, ain't she?" Aunt Almira said proudly. "An' our Janice has done suthin' this time that'll make Polktown put her on a ped-ped-es-tri-an----"

"'Pedestal,' Maw!" giggled Marty.

"Wal, never mind," said the somewhat flurried Mrs. Day. "Mr. Middler said it. Mr. Haley, ye'd oughter hear all 't Mr. Middler said about her this arternoon at the meetin' of the Ladies' Aid."

"Oh, Auntie!" murmured Janice, turning very red.

"Go on, Maw, and tell us," said Marty. "What did he say?" and he grinned delightedly at his cousin's rosy face.

"Sing her praises, Mrs. Day--do," urged Nelson. "We know she deserves to have them sung."

"Wal! I should say she did," agreed Aunt 'Mira, proudly. "It's her, the parson says, that's re'lly at the back of this temp'rance movement that's goin' ter be inaugurated right here in Polktown. Nex' Sunday he's goin' to give a sermon on temperance. He said 'at he was ashamed to feel that he--like the rest of us--was content ter drift along and _do nothin'_ 'cept ter talk against rum selling, until Janice began ter _do somethin'_."

"Now, Auntie!" complained the girl again.

"Wal! You started it--ye know ye did, Janice. They was talkin' about holdin' meetings, an' pledge-signin', and stirrin' up the men folks ter vote nex' Fall ter make Polktown so everlastin'ly dry that all the old topers, like Jim Narnay, an' Bruton Willis, an'--an' the rest of 'em, will jest natcherly wither up an' blow away! I tell ye, the Ladies'

Aid is all worked up."

"I wonder, now," said Uncle Jason, reflectively.

"Ye wonder what, Jase Day?" demanded his spouse, with some warmth.

"I wonder if it can be _did_?" returned Uncle Jason. "Lemme tell ye, rum sellin' an' rum drinkin' is purty well rooted in Polktown. If Janice is a-goin' ter stop th' sale of licker here, she's tackled purty consider'ble of a job, lemme tell ye."

CHAPTER XXI

WHAT WAS IN THE PAPER

As the days pa.s.sed it certainly looked as though Mr. Day was correct in his surmise about the difficulties of "Janice's job," as he called it.

The girl was earnestly talking to everybody whom she knew, especially to the influential men of Polktown, regarding the disgraceful things that had happened in the lakeside hamlet since the bar had been opened at the Inn. And it was among these influential men that she found the most opposition to making Polktown "dry" instead of "wet."

She had thrown down her gauntlet at Mr. Cross Moore's feet, so she troubled no more about him. Janice realized that n.o.body was more politically powerful in Polktown than Mr. Moore. But she believed she could not possibly obtain him on the side of prohibition, so she did not waste her strength or time in trying.

Not that Mr. Cross Moore was a drinking man himself. He was never known to touch either liquor or tobacco. He was just a hard-fisted, hard-hearted, shrewd and successful country politician; and there appeared to be no soft side to his character. Unless that side was exposed to his invalid wife. And n.o.body outside ever caught Mr. Moore displaying tenderness in particular to her, although he was known to spend much time with her.

He had fought his way up in politics and in wealth, from very poor and small beginnings. From his birth in an ancient log cabin, with parents who were as poor and miserable as the Trimminses or the Narnays to being president of the Town Council and chairman of the School Committee, was a long stride for Mr. Cross Moore--and n.o.body appreciated the fact more clearly than himself.

Money had been the best friend he had ever had. Without Elder Concannon's streak of acquisitiveness in his character that made the good old man almost miserly, Mr. Cross Moore possessed the money-getting ability, and a faith in the creed that "Wealth is Power"

that nothing had yet shaken in his long experience.

For a number of years Polktown had been free of any public dram-selling, although the voters had not put themselves on record as desiring prohibition. Occasionally a more or less secret place for the selling of liquor had risen and was quickly put down. There had, in the opinion of the majority of the citizens, been no call for a drinking place, and there would probably have been no such local demand had Lem Parraday--backed by Mr. Moore, who held the mortgage on the Inn--not desired to increase the profits of that hostelry. The license was taken out that visitors to Polktown might be satisfied.

There had been no local demand for the sale of liquor, as has been said. Those who made a practise of using it could obtain all they wished at Middletown, or other places near by. But once having allowed the traffic a foothold in the hamlet, it would be hard to dislodge it.

John Barleycorn is fighting for his life. He has few real friends, indeed, among his consumers. No man knows better the danger of alcohol than the man who is addicted to its use--until he gets to that besotted stage where his brain is so befuddled that his opinion would scarcely be taken in a court of law on any subject.

Janice Day was determined not to listen to these temporizers in Polktown who professed themselves satisfied if the license was taken away from the Lake View Inn. Something more drastic was needed than that.

"The business must be voted out of town. We all must take a stand upon the question--on one side or the other," the girl had said earnestly, in discussing this point with Elder Concannon.

"If you only shut up this bar, another license, located at some other point, will be asked for. Each time the fight will have to be begun again. Vote the town _dry_--that is the only way."

"Well, I reckon that's true enough, my girl," said the cautious elder.

"But I doubt if we can do it. They're too strong for us."

"We can try," Janice urged. "You don't _know_ that the wets will win, Elder."

"And if we try the question in town meeting and get beaten, we'll be worse off than we are now."

"Why shall we?" Janice demanded. "And, besides, I do not believe the wets can carry the day."

"I'm afraid the idea of making the town dry isn't popular enough,"

pursued the elder.

"Why not?"

"We are Vermonters," said Elder Concannon, as though that were conclusive. "We're sons of the Green Mountain Boys, and liberty is greater to us than to any other people in the world."

"Including the liberty to get drunk--and the children to follow the example of the grown men?" asked Janice, tartly. "Is _that_ liberty so precious?"

"That's a harsh saying, Janice," said the old man, wagging his head.

"It's the truth, just the same," the girl declared, with doggedness.

"You can't make the voters do what you want--not always," said Elder Concannon. "I don't want to see liquor sold here; but I think we'll be more successful if we oppose each license as it comes up."