The testing of Janice Day

A young girl’s head is “full of such a number of things.” This was true, indeed, of Janice Day’s. She had her school work to think of; her home interests; the Girls’ Guild; her work on the executive committee of the Public Library Association; the membership she held in the young people’s society of the church which called for more than a little thought and attention. All these—and her secret anxiety regarding her relations with Nelson Haley.

Is it any wonder that she put no significance upon Elder Concannon’s money and the trouble at the Middletown Trust Company, until she went to luncheon that noon and found Archie’s place empty?

“Where’s Archie?” asked Janice, cheerfully, dropping into her seat at the table. Everybody called the yellow-haired young Scot by his first name.

“He’ll nae come home the day,” sighed Mrs. MacKay, dropping into the burr that was native to her tongue. “Trouble—trouble.”

“Oh, dear! have the experts come?”

“They’re an th’ books now,” said the woman, shaking her head. “Belike the bank will close its dures this very nicht. Maister Crompton has been forbidden tae leave town at all, my Archie tell’t me. It’s sad times, Janice—it’s sad times.”

The girl stopped eating. The bank closed! Then Elder Concannon could not draw his money out to take up his option on the sawmill lands. The fact shot an illuminating ray through her mind. The significance of the happening struck home deeply.

“’Tis little ye air eatin’, Janice,” said the widow. “Is’t nae tae yer taste?”

“It is all right, Mrs. MacKay,” Janice hastened to assure her. But all the time that she tried to eat the food on her plate she was wondering what her duty was under the circumstances.

Janice certainly would not have gone into the town and spread abroad the rumor that the trust company might close its doors at the end of this day’s business. But the information had been given her with no promise, asked or implied, that she should not speak of the bank trouble.

Elder Concannon was likely to lose a thousand dollars, perhaps; besides, his plans for profit out of the sawmill contract would come to naught. It might be months before the troubles of the Middletown Trust Company would be settled and the old gentleman be able to get hold of his money again.

Janice went back to school with her thoughts now fixed upon this subject. Was it her business to do anything to help Elder Concannon? Would it be wrong if she told him what she had learned from Mrs. MacKay about the Middletown Trust Company?

Janice did not trouble her mind about her own relations with the stern old elder. Not for a moment did she remember that he had sworn out a warrant against her for speeding and hailed her into court. She wasn’t the kind that hugged the thought of revenge.

But she hesitated because she did not know which was the right thing to do. The matter of the trouble at the bank had been imparted to her with no idea of its being repeated; yet she was not under the bonds of secrecy.

How would Elder Concannon feel if his money was tied up? And suppose it caused him to lose the thousand dollars he had already paid down upon the option?

Janice had gone into recitation ere this; but her mind was not on her work. She asked to be excused by the teacher in charge and went directly to the principal of the seminary.

“Mrs. Protherick, I wish you would excuse me at once. I have to go back to Polktown. I learned something at lunch time that leads me to believe it is my duty to help somebody at home. I cannot explain just now what it is.”

“Why, Janice,” said the principal, smiling, “I have found you so far to be a most sensible and trustworthy girl. If you told me you had business in the moon I should be inclined to countenance your absence while you attended to it. Of course you may go, my dear,” and she kissed the flushed girl warmly.

Janice’s car was parked on the school grounds. She ran out to it, took the blanket off the radiator, tried the starter and the gas, found that everything seemed all right, and prepared to depart. As she wheeled out of the seminary grounds the clock in the tower struck the half hour after one.

The roads were still in good condition. The sky had threatened a storm for several days; but it was still in the clouds and the rags of mist hanging from the higher peaks of the Green Mountains. The car hummed along over the Upper Road, and Janice met few other vehicles. The people at the farmhouses she passed stared at her, as they always did. She took the direct route to the Elder’s home, for there was haste. Had the constable been timing her to-day he might have made out a very good case of speeding against her, for the trust company closed its doors at half past three o’clock!

“I wish I had told him last night—or had gone back at once this noon,” thought the anxious girl. “Suppose something happens? Suppose the car breaks down?”

But she watched everything very carefully. Although she coaxed the car along at a high rate of speed, she took no chances. She did not travel at near the speed she had on the day she had taken the sick Trimmins baby to Dr. Poole’s office.

The Elder’s white-painted house and his big barns finally came into view. Janice drove right into the open gate and to the side door. The roaring of the exhaust before she shut off the engine brought the old man himself to the door—in his dressing-gown and slippers and with a book in his hand.

The moment he identified Janice he scowled, demanding:

“What do you mean, girl—coming in here with that thing? You are bold indeed to drive that chariot of Satan into my yard.”

“Wait, Mr. Concannon! do wait!” begged Janice, hastily getting out from behind the wheel. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“To tell me?” he asked, amazed.

“Yes. Let me come in. I must talk with you.”

“I don’t know what you mean, girl,” declared he. “I want nothing to do with you. I feel——”

“Oh, wait! wait!” half sobbed Janice, so excited that her nerves were on the jump. “It’s about your money.”

“My money?” repeated the Elder.

“Your money in the Middletown Trust Company. I heard uncle say you had fifteen thousand dollars there.”

“Your uncle is a busybody,” snarled the Elder. “What business is it of his or yours?”

“But you may lose it!” cried Janice, desperately.

The old man’s hand was uplifted and he was about to utter some malediction for which he might have been sorry. The girl’s earnestness, her clutch at his arm, or, possibly, the mention of the word “lose,” stayed him. He said, huskily:

“Come in.”

“You haven’t a minute to lose, Elder Concannon,” declared Janice, in conclusion, when she had told what she knew of the trust company’s affairs. “Your clock there on the mantel says it is half past two already. The bank closes in an hour. I believe—in fact I am almost sure—it will not open for business to-morrow. If you don’t reach there by half past three you may not be able to use your money.”

“I’ll be ruined! ruined!” exploded the old man.

He rose totteringly to his feet. Janice saw the change in his face and was frightened. She was afraid the Elder was going to be ill, and she was not sure that there was anybody else in the house. She had not sat down, and she sprang forward to steady him.

“You can’t help me, girl,” he said. “’Tain’t that kind of help I need. If I get that money tied up I shall be ruined—ruined! I’ve got too many eggs in the one basket—and that basket just now is the Middletown Trust Company.”

“But go get it out!” cried Janice.

“I couldn’t get there in time. My horses would never get me there.”

“Isn’t my car here? I’ll get you there in an hour—in less time,” urged Janice. “That’s what I came for. I came to help you get your money. It would have been nothing to tell you about it, if I could not give you practical aid.”

“My goodness, girl! in that devil wagon?”

“I don’t think you ought to call it that,” said Janice, softly. “I carried little Buddy Trimmins to the doctor in it, and saved his life. God helped me get him there in time,” said Janice, her eyes filling with tears. “I am sure He will help me to save your money that you need.”

“Go on, girl!” said the old man, huskily. “I’ll get my coat and hat. But to get to Middletown in an hour!”

“We’ll do it in less than that if all goes right,” cried the girl, and ran out to turn the machine about.

The Elder came after her in half a minute. She noticed that in his excitement he had slipped his overcoat on over his dressing-gown and still wore the carpet slippers.