Her troubled little heart overflowed. She flung herself down with her face hidden in her arms folded upon the window sill, while ungovernable sobs shook her body.

The loss of the treasure-box was a disaster for, which she could not easily forgive herself.

CHAPTER VI. THE CARRINGFORDS

Janice Day was a friendly little soul; but she was not a girl who made those close friendships that so many girls make during their schooldays. There was no one girl from whom she was almost inseparable.

Janice was just as good friends with Amy Carringford as she was with Stella Latham; only Amy had been attending the grammar school a much shorter time than had the farmer's daughter.

Now circ.u.mstances attending Stella's proposed birthday party caused Janice to become much better acquainted with Amy Carringford. In seeking to do something for Stella, Janice was determined to do something for Amy.

The Carringford family had taken up their residence during the winter in Mullen Lane; and it must be confessed that Mullen Lane was not considered an aristocratic part of the town. Of course, poor people have to live where living is cheap; but it was said that Mrs. Carringford, who was a widow, had bought the little cottage--not much better than a hut--in which she and her little family had taken up their dwelling.

Why people like the Carringford, manifestly well bred and intelligent, had chosen Mullen Lane to live in puzzled not only the busybodies, like Miss Peckham, of this part of Greensboro, but amazed other people as well.

Wherever Mrs. Carringford appeared--at church, Or in the neighborhood stores on Knight and Ca.s.sandra Streets--people saw that she was a well bred woman, though plainly, even shabbily, dressed.

There were several children besides Amy and the Unfortunately-named Gumswith, and they dressed poorly, too. But even if Gummy's trousers were patched at the knees, as Stella Latham had pointed out, they were patched neatly, and his linen was fresh.

Of course, n.o.body called on Mrs. Carringford; at least, almost n.o.body. The rickety little cottage in Mullen Lane did not attract callers by its outward appearance, that was sure. That it was a shelter for a family that had been sorely tried by fate, none of the neighbors knew.

It was Janice Day, when she made a frank attempt to know Amy Carringford better, who began first to learn particulars about the Carringford family. There was not much queer or mysterious about them; merely they were people who failed to advertise their private affairs to the community at large.

Janice had gained Stella Latham's promise that she would not tell the secret of the party dress, if Amy should consent to borrow it, before she sounded Amy as to whether she was going to accept the invitation to

the party or not. According to Stella, who was really very silly about such things, the birthday party was to be a very "dressy"

affair. Stella talked about this phase of it in season and out.

First of all, Janice demanded that one of the highly ornate invitations Stella's mother had had printed in the Greensboro Bugle printing office should be sent to Amy. There should be no hedging, Janice determined, after that. Amy was to be asked like the other girls and boys of their grade.

"But if she hasn't got a decent dress?" murmured Stella, when she was mailing the invitation to Amy.

"I told you I'd see that she did have a party dress," Janice said sharply. "I can't agree to find whole trousers for Gummy," and she giggled; "so you needn't invite him if you don't want to.

But Amy will be all right."

"Maybe she will be too proud to wear your dress, Janice Day!"

exclaimed Stella.

"Then she won't come," rejoined Janice. "But you are not to tell a soul that the dress is mine, if she does wear it."

"We-ell," sighed Stella, somewhat relieved.

The farmer's daughter knew that there would be much comment if she left Amy off the invitation list. She was glad to leave the matter in Janice Day's hands. And she did not remark again, at least, not openly, upon Janice being "so sly."

Without being at all sly, Janice did go about doing something for Amy Carringford with considerable shrewdness. She had never walked home with Amy from school. She did not like the purlieus of Mullen Lane. But this afternoon she attached herself to Amy with all the power of adherence of a mollusk, and they were chattering too fast to stop abruptly when they came to the comer of Knight Street, where usually Janice turned off.

Mullen Lane touched Love Street at its upper end, so Janice could go all the way to the Carringford house without going much out of her way. She went on with Amy, swinging her books; and at first Amy did not seem to notice that Janice was keeping with her right into the muddy, littered lane on which she lived.

"Why, Janice!" said Amy, finally, "you are away out of your way."

"Oh, I can go up the lane to Love Street," returned Janice carelessly, and just as though she were used to doing that.

Amy, who was a pretty, blonde girl, gazed at her companion rather curiously; but Janice was quite calm.

"That is the house where I live," said Amy, in a changed tone, as they came in sight of the cottage.

"Oh, yes," replied Janice.

Aside from the fact that the house needed paint and new window shutters, and a new roof, and new planks for the piazza, and numerous other things, it was not such a bad looking house.

Janice noticed something at first glance: it was only things that poor people could not get or that a boy could not tinker that was needed about the Carringford house to make it neat and comfortable.

The fences were on the line, had been braced, and there were no pickets missing. The gates hung true. The walks were neatly kept and there were brilliant flower beds in front, for flower seeds cost little. What the Carringford could do to make the place homelike without spending money, had certainly been done.

"It's an awful place to live," ventured Amy, still gazing sidewise at Janice.

"Oh," said the latter brightly, "you don't mean that! You are all together and are all well."

"Yes, there are a lot of us." And Amy said it with a sigh. "It seems as though there were an awful lot of children, now that father's dead."

"Did you lose your father recently--just as I did my mother?"

asked Janice softly.

"Year and a half ago. That is why we came here, There was some insurance money. Somebody persuaded mother to buy a home for us with it. I don't know whether it was good advice or not; but she bought this place because it was cheap. And she could not pay for it all, at that; so I don't know but we're likely to lose the money she put into it, and the old shack, too."

Amy spoke rather bitterly. Janice, with natural tact, thought this was no time to probe deeper into the financial affairs of the Carringfords. She saw Gummy, who was a year older than Amy, in the yard. He had got home from school first, and he stared when he saw Janice.

"Hullo, Gummy!" the latter called to the boy with the patched trousers. "What are you doing there? Are you laying sod for a border to that garden-bed?"

"No. I'm tr.i.m.m.i.n.g an opera cloak with green ermine," said the boy, but grinning. "What are you doing around here in Dirty-face Lane?"

"Oh, Gummy!" exclaimed Amy.

"What a name to call the street!" objected Janice.

"Well, that's what it is," returned the boy, continuing to pound the sod into place. "n.o.body in this street ever washes his face."

"Why Gummy Carringford!" exclaimed his sister again.

"I'm sure Amy washes her face whether you do or not," chuckled Janice.

"Oh, me!" sniffed the boy, but his eyes still twinkling. "I'm always 'gummy'!"

Janice's laughter was a silver peal that brought three or four younger Carringfords, including the twins, to the side door.

They peered out at their sister and the girl with her, but were bashful.

"What a jolly lot of little ones!" sighed Janice. "You know, Amy, I'm all alone. I haven't any brothers or sisters."