Ah!"

The thunder rolled again--ominously, suddenly, while the cas.e.m.e.nts rattled from its vibrations.

"_Forgive Lem and these other men for what they air doin', O Lord!_"

was the next phrase the startled spectators heard. "_They don't deserve Thy forgiveness--but overlook 'em!_"

The Voice in the heavens answered again and drowned her supplication.

One man screamed--a shrill, high neigh like that of a hurt horse.

Janice caught a momentary glimpse of the pallid face of Joe Bodley shrinking below the edge of the counter. There was no leer upon his fat face now; it expressed nothing but terror.

Lem Parraday entered hastily. He caught his wife by her thin shoulders just as she pitched forward. "Now, now, Marm! This ain't no way to act," he said, soothingly.

The thunder muttered in the distance. Suddenly the flickering lightning seemed less threatening. As quickly as it had burst, the tempest pa.s.sed away.

"My jimminy! She's fainted," Lem Parraday murmured, lifting the woman in his strong arms.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE ENEMY RETREATS

As the Summer advanced visitors flocked to Polktown. From the larger and better known tourist resorts on the New York side of the lake, small parties had ventured into Polktown during the two previous seasons. Now news of the out-of-the-way, old-fashioned hamlet had spread; and by the end of July the Lake View Inn was comfortably filled, and most people who were willing to take "city folks" to board had all the visitors they could take care of.

"But I dunno's we're goin' to make much by havin' sech a crowd," Lem Parraday complained. "With Marm sick nothin' seems ter go right. Sech waste in the kitchen I never did see! An' if I say a word, or look skew-jawed at them women, they threaten ter up an' leave me in a bunch."

For Marm Parraday, by Dr. Poole's orders, had been taken out into the country to her sister's, and told to stay there till cool weather came.

"If you are bound to run a rum-hole, Lem," said the plain-spoken doctor, "don't expect a woman in her condition to help you run it."

Lem thought it hard--and he looked for sympathy among his neighbors.

He got what he was looking for, but of rather doubtful quality.

"I cartainly do wish Marm'd git well--or sumpin'," he said one day in Walky Dexter's hearing. "I don't see how a man's expected to run a _ho_-tel without a woman to help him. It beats me!"

"It'll be _sumpin'_ that happens ter ye, I reckon," observed Walky, drily. "Sure as yeou air a fut high, Lem. In the Fall. Beware the Ides o' September, as the feller says. Only mebbe I ain't got jest the month right. Haw! haw! haw!"

Town Meeting Day was in September. The call had already been issued, and included in it was the amendment calling for no license in Polktown--the new ordinance, if pa.s.sed, to take immediate effect.

The campaign for prohibition was continued despite the influx of Summer visitors. Indeed, because of them the battle against liquor selling grew hotter. Not so many "city folks" as the hotel-keeper and his friends expected, desired to see a bar in the old-fashioned community.

Especially after the first pay day of the gang working on the branch of the V. C. Road. When the night was made hideous and the main street of Polktown dangerous for quiet people, by drink-inflamed fellows from the railroad construction camp, a strong protest was addressed to the Town Selectmen.

There was a possibility of several well-to-do men building on the heights above the town, another season. Uncle Jason had a chance to sell his sheep-lot at such a price that his cupidity was fully aroused.

But the buyer did not care to close the bargain if the town went "wet"

in the Fall. Naturally Mr. Day's interest in prohibition increased mightily.

The visiting young people would have liked to hold dances in Lem Parraday's big room at the Inn. But gently bred girls did not care to go where liquor was sold; so the dancing parties of the better cla.s.s were held in the Odd Fellows Hall.

The recurrent temperance meetings which had at first been held in the Town House had to seek other quarters early in the campaign. Mr. Cross Moore "lifted his finger" and the councilmen voted to allow the Town Hall to be used for no such purpose.

However, warm weather having come, in a week the Campaign Committee obtained a big tent, set it up on the old circus grounds behind Major Price's place, somewhat curtailing the boys' baseball field, and the temperance meetings were held not only once a week, but thrice weekly.

The tent meetings became vastly popular. When Nelson Haley, urged by the elder, made his first speech in the campaign, Polktown awoke as never before to the fact that their schoolmaster had a gift of oratory not previously suspected.

And, perhaps as much as anything, that speech raised public opinion to a height which could be no longer ignored by the School Committee.

There was an unveiled demand in the Polktown column of the Middletown Courier that Nelson Haley should be appointed teacher of the graded school for the ensuing year.

Even Mr. Cross Moore saw that the time had come for him and his comrades on the committee to back down completely from their position.

It was the only thing that would save them from being voted out of office at the coming election--and perhaps that would happen anyway!

Before the Summer was over the request, signed by the five committeemen, came to Nelson that he take up his duties from which he had asked to be relieved in the Spring.

"It's a victory!" cried Janice, happily. "Oh, Nelson! I'm _so_ glad."

But there was an exceedingly bitter taste on Nelson Haley's lips. He shook his head and could not smile. The accusation against his character still stood. He had been accused of stealing the collection of coins, and he had never been able to disprove the charge.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE TRUTH AT LAST

Daddy had not written for nearly two months. At least, no letter from him had reached Janice. The Day family in Polktown had not gone into mourning in the Spring and Aunt 'Mira gloried in a most astonishing plum-colored silk with "r'yal purple" tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. Nevertheless, Janice had now all but given up hope for her father's life.

The uncertainty connected with his fate was very hard for the young girl to bear. She had the thought with her all the time--a picture in her mind of a man, blindfolded, his wrists fastened behind him, standing with his back against a sunburnt wall and a file of ragged, barefooted soldiers in front of him.

In desperation she had written a letter addressed personally to "General Juan Dicampa," sending it to the same place to which she addressed her father's letters. She did this almost in fear of the consequences. Who would read her letter now that the guerrilla chief was dead?

In the appeal Janice pleaded for her father's life and for news of him.

Days pa.s.sed and there was no reply. But the letter, with her name and address on the outside, was not returned to her.

Broxton Day's fate was discussed no more before Janice at home. And other people who knew of her trouble, save Nelson Haley, soon forgot it. For the girl did not "wear her heart on her sleeve."

As for the Druggs--Hopewell and his wife--they were so worried about little Lottie's case that they had thought for n.o.body's troubles but their own.

The doctors would not let the child return to Polktown at present.

They kept her all through the Summer, watching her case. And Lottie, at a Summer school in Boston, was enjoying herself hugely. She was not yet at an age to worry much about the future.

These months of Lottie's absence were weary ones indeed for her father.

Sometimes he wandered about the store quite distraught. 'Rill was worried about him. He missed the solace of his violin and refused to purchase a cheap instrument to take the place of the one he had been obliged to sacrifice.

"No, Miss Janice," he told the girl once, when she spoke of this. "I could not play another instrument. I am no musician. I was never trained. It was just a natural talent that I developed, because I found in my heart a love for the old violin my father had played so many years.

"Through its vibrant strings I expressed deeper feelings than I could ever express in any other way--or upon any other instrument. My lips would never have dared tell my love for 'Rill," and he smiled in his gentle way, "half so boldly as my violin told it! Ask her. She will tell you that my violin courted her--not Hopewell Drugg."

"Oh, it is too, too bad!" cried Janice. "And that fellow down at Lem Parraday's hotel has never succeeded in disposing of the fiddle. I wish he would sell it back to you."