Janice went slowly downstairs. First Of all it was her duty to communicate with her father at the bank. She hated to tell him of this happening, for she realized keenly her fault in the matter. But not for a moment did the girl consider hiding the unfortunate affair from Broxton Day.

She went to the telephone and called the bank When she asked for Mr. Day. She could almost see him taking the receiver from the hook when the bell on his telephone rang.

"Yes?" Daddy's voice sounded clearly and courteously over the wire. "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 in a rush she told him of the tragic happening.

"And I don't know what to do, Daddy," was the way in which she ended her story.

Even over the telephone the girl realized that her father was more startled than she expected him to be, His voice did not sound at all natural as he asked:

"Do you mean to tell me that everything that was in that box is lost, Janice? Everything?"

"Oh, Daddy!" choked the girl, "I put everything back before I closed 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 hoa.r.s.e voice said quickly. "I cannot explain to you now, my child. Didn't you know there was a false bottom in that box?"

"A false bottom to the treasure-box, Daddy?" she cried wonderingly. "A secret compartment."

"Oh! I didn't know--"

"No, of course not. I blame myself, my dear," he added, and she knew that he was striving to control his voice. "Do not cry any more. I will explain when come home."

"Oh, Daddy!"

"Are you sure you have looked carefully for the box?" and he now spoke more moderately.

"Oh, yes, Daddy."

"Looked everywhere?"

"Indeed I have."

"Then, daughter, by the face of the clock in front of me, I advise 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 in and carried down her trunk." '

"I will see what can be done. Go to school like a good girl and do not let anxiety spoil your recitations. Good-bye."

He hung up the receiver and Janice followed his example. There seemed nothing else she could do.

She would have been late for school had not Stella Latham driven by the Day cottage in her father's car just as Janice came out.

Stella lived some distance out of town, her father being a well-to-do farmer, and she was driven in daily by either her brother or one of the farm hands.

Janice saw the automobile coming in the distance and soon recognized the Latham car.

"Dear me!" she sighed, "I hope Stella will not turn down Hester Street. 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 pa.s.sed Hester Street and came on down Knight Street to make a later turn off toward the schoolhouse. The car almost shot past Janice before the girl inside saw her on the sidewalk. Then the girl suddenly leaned out of the swiftly moving car.

"Oh, Janice Day!" screamed Stella, warning her driver to stop with 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 buxom girl, a year or two older than Janice, but in the latter's grade at school. "Ever so nice" Janice thought her. But, Janice thought most of her school friends were "nice." She was friendly toward them, so they had no reason to be otherwise than kind to her.

Not that Janice Day was either namby-pamby or stupid. She had opinions, and expressed them frankly; and she possessed a strong will of her own. But she not to hurt other people's feelings; and if she stood up for her opinions, she usually did so without antagonizing anybody.

"You're just the girl I wanted to see, anyway, Janice, before school," Stella said, as the younger girl hopped into the tonneau and the chauffeur let in the clutch again.

"Now you see--all of me!" said Janice brightly, trying to put the trouble 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 her own affairs that she noticed nothing at all strange about her friend.

"Oh, Janice!" Stella said, "I'm to have a birthday party. You know, I told you all about it before." "Yes, Stella, you told me," agreed Janice.

"Of course I did. And I want you to come. I couldn't really have a party without you, Janice. But I am not so sure about some of the girls."

"Oh, dear me!" murmured Janice. "If I was going to have a regular party I'd invite all the girls in our cla.s.s--or else none at all."

"Now, that's just like you! You always are so quick. How did you know 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 and sly."

"Oh!" cried Janice not at all pleased, "does your mother think I am sly?"

"We-ell, she said you were shrewd," admitted Stella, changing color. "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. "I am 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 of difficulties."

"I didn't know I got into difficulties--not many anyway," Janice added, with a little sigh.

"Dear me, Janice! don't split hairs--please," said the very selfish and self-centered Stella. "I want your help. Do tell me how to get out of asking that girl to my party without offending her friends--for she has got friends, curiously enough."