Of course, all of Janice Day's school friends did not go away from Greensboro for the summer vacation; or, if they did go away for a little visit, they were soon back again.

And when the girls heard that Janice's father had broken his leg and that Janice was tied to the house with him, they began to come to see her, and inquire about daddy, and cheer her up.

None of them realized that, with Mrs. Carringford at the head of housekeeping affairs, Janice had not felt so free and cheerful for some months as she did at this time.

Daddy soon grew better, and he began to sleep peacefully at night. The surgeon, Dr. Bowles, who came occasionally, said the bones were knitting all right. Mr. Weeks and Janice even got the patient up into a wheel chair which had an arrangement that made it possible for the broken leg to rest stiffly before daddy, and he could wheel himself out on the front

porch.

There was just the one thing to trouble the girl; that was the mystery of the lost treasure-box and the secret sorrow she felt because she had been careless with it. Without her carelessness, she told herself, Olga Cedarstrom would never have taken it out of the house --if that was really how the keepsakes had come to disappear.

It was Bertha Warring who chanced, when she first came to see Janice after her return from an exciting trip to Chicago, to mention that girl, Olga. At least she spoke of the "Olga" who had been at the Latham house and had broken Mrs. Lantham's gla.s.s dish the night of Stella's party.

"I meant to speak to you about what Stella said, Bertha remarked, "before I went away. But we went in such a hurry. You know, Stella can be awfully mean."

"Why, she's not always nice," admitted Janice whose opinion of the farmer's daughter had changed a good deal during the past few months.

"I must say you let Stella down easy when you say that," laughed Bertha.

"Oh, she gets mad, and says mean things. But I don't think--"

"Now, stop it, Janice Day!" exclaimed the other girl "You know very wall that Stella is just as mean as a girl can be. See how she spoke of Amy Carringford. And Amy is an awfully nice girl."

"Yes, Amy is nice," admitted Janice, happily.

"Well, now, look here," said Bertha, earnestly. "Stella said something you did not hear once about that Swedish girl."

"Oh, I guess I am not particularly interested in that girl,"

Janice said slowly. "My father asked the Johnsons about her.

You know that girl was staying with them at the time of the party. She ran away, I guess, because she was afraid Mrs. Latham would make trouble about the broken dish. But the Johnsons said her name was not Cedarstrom."

"Mercy, what a name!" laughed Bertha. "Just the same, there is something about that girl that Stella knows, and that she said you would give a good deal to know."

"Why, I can't imagine--"

"That's just it," said Bertha, quickly. "It sounded so mysterious. I ought to have told you about it there and then.

But you know how jumbled up everything was, just the last days of school."

"That is so," admitted the puzzled Janice.

"But, you know, Stella and I went away on the same train together."

"No! Did you?"

"Yes. She changed cars before we got to Chicago; but she sat in the chair car with me for a long way. And I pumped her about what she meant when she spoke the way she did regarding that Swede."

"Yes?"

"Why, she giggled, and made fun, and wouldn't say anything much at first. But I hammered at her," said Bertha, "until I got her mad. You know Stella loses her temper and then--well, it's all off!" and Bertha laughed gaily.

"Oh, Bert!" admonished Janice warmly, "I don't think we ought to get her mad."

"Oh, she'll get glad again," said Bertha carelessly. "Don't worry about Stella, Miss Fussbudget."

Janice laughed then, herself. She did not mind Bertha Warring's sharp tongue.

"Well, as I was saying, I got her finally to say something more about that Olga. And what do you suppose she did say?"

"I could not guess," said the wondering Janice.

"Why, that it was very true her name was not Cedarstrom now.

That is just the way she said it before she got up and flounced out of the car." "Oh, Bert!" gasped Janice.

"Do you see? I was some minutes catching on to it," Bertha said, rather slangily. "But you see, I guess. That girl had been known as 'Olga Cedarstrom' at some time or other, you mark my word.

And Stella found it out and would not tell you."

"Then she must be married. Of course her name is not Cedarstrom now," murmured Janice.

"Oh! Is that it? I didn't know but she was a real crook," said Bertha, "and had what they call an 'alias.'"

"No-o, I don't believe so. The last daddy learned about her over at Pickletown, some of the Swedish people there thought she must have gone off to get married. She was going with a young man who works in one of the pickle factories. His name is Willie Sangreen."

"And what's become of him?" asked the interested Bertha.

"He went away, too."

"They ran off and got married! Of course!" cried the romance-loving Bertha. "And that Stella Latham found it out and wouldn't tell you. Maybe your father-- Oh! but he can't go looking for them now that he has a broken leg, can he?"

"I am afraid not. We'll have to wait. But do you really suppose, Bert, that Stella is sure of what she says? Perhaps she doesn't really know for sure about that Olga."

"Where there's so much smoke there must be some fire," Bertha said, with a laugh, as Janice walked out to the front gate with her. "I guess Stella knows-- Oh, Janice! Talking about smoke,"

cried Bertha suddenly, looking back at the Day house and up at the roof, "what is all that smoke coming out of your kitchen chimney?"

Her startled friend looked in the direction indicated. Out of the chimney-mouth, and between the bricks, poured a vomit of black smoke. Then, as the girls looked, red flames darted out with the smoke-- spouting four or five feet into the air above the top of the chimney.

CHAPTER XXV. ABEL STROUT AT THE ROOT OF IT

The shock of seeing the chimney on fire did not overcome Janice Day as much as the thought that daddy was lying down, resting, in the living room, and that she would never be able to get him up and into his wheelchair and out of doors before the whole house was in a blaze.

For those lurid flames darting out of the chimney looked very terrifying indeed. Bertha Warring ran out into the street, screaming; but Janice darted back into the house.

Somebody outside screamed. "Fire! Fire!" Janice believed it must have been Miss Peckham. Little ever got past the sharp eyes of that neighbor in the next cottage.

Janice heard her father e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e some exclamation, but she did not go to him first. She rushed, instead, to the telephone in the hall.

Seizing the receiver, she rattled the hook up and down, hoping to get a quick response.