yet--nor a game. But Marty needed no explanation.

"Janice Day! did you do all this?" he demanded, with a gasp.

"Of course not, goosey! Lots of people helped. And they're going to help
more--if you boys show yourselves appreciative."

"What's that 'appreciative' mean?" demanded Marty, suspiciously.

"No fights here; no games that are so boisterous as to disturb those who
want to read. Just gentlemanly behavior while you are in the room.
That's all, besides a small tax each month to help toward the upkeep of
the room. What do you say, Marty?"

"You done this!" declared the boy, with sudden heat. "Don't say you
didn't, for that'll be a lie. I never saw a girl like you, Janice!"

"Why--why--Don't you like it?" queried Janice, disturbed.

"Of course I do! It's bully! It's great!" exclaimed Marty. "Lemme show
it to the boys. They'll be crazy about it. And if they don't behave
it'll be because they're too big for me to lick," concluded Marty,
nodding his head emphatically.

Janice burst out laughing at this, and pressed the key into his hand.
"Until we get organized properly, you will take charge of the room,
won't you, Marty?"

"Sure I will."

"You'll need a stove; I think I can get that for you in a day or two.
And lots of folks have promised books. I've written to friends in
Greensboro for books, too. And several people who take magazines and
papers regularly have promised to hand them over to the reading-room
just as soon as they have read them. And you boys can bring your
checkers, and dominoes, and other games, from home, eh?"

Marty was scarcely listening; but he was looking at her with more
seriousness than his plain face usually betrayed.

"Janice, you're almost as good as a boy yourself!" he declared. "I'm not
sorry a bit that you came to Poketown."

Janice only laughed at him again; yet the boy's awkward earnestness
warmed her heart.

The girl was finding in these busy days the truest balm for her own
worriments. Nothing more was heard of Mr. Broxton Day; yet Janice felt
less need of running alone into the woods and fields to find that
comfort about which she had told the minister.

Besides, it soon grew too cold for frequent jaunts afield. The small
streams and pools were icebound. Then, over the fir-covered heights,
sifted the first snow of winter, and Poketown seemed suddenly tucked
under a coverlet of white.

The reading-room was an established fact. An association to support it
was formed