fellers out; they see him in there, with his
grizzly old head and flapping cape-coat, and they stay out till he goes
home. And, by jinks! I'm gittin' tired of being the goat and playin'
draughts with him."

"Marty," she said to him, with some solemnity, "if you saw that through
the Elder's coming there and your entertaining him a bit, the
institution would in the end be vastly benefited, wouldn't you be _glad_
to play the goat?"

Marty's eyes snapped at her. He drew a long breath, and exclaimed: "Hi
tunket! You don't mean that you've got the old Elder 'on the string' for
us, Janice?"

"It's very rude of you to talk that way," said Janice, smiling. "I don't
know what you mean by having the dear old gentleman 'on a string.' But I
tell you in secret, Marty, that I _do_ hope he will be so much
interested in the reading-room and library that some day he will give
the association something very much worth while. He can afford it, for
he hasn't chick nor child in the world."

"Ye don't mean it?" gasped Marty.

"But I _do_ mean it. Why not? Do you suppose the old gentleman comes
into the reading-room without being interested in it?"

"Say!" drawled her cousin. "I'll be the goat all right, all right!"

Janice was indeed cultivating the old Elder's acquaintance. She would
not have done it to benefit herself in any way; but to help the
library----

"You young folks need a balance wheel," Elder Concannon once said to
Janice. "Youthful enthusiasm is all very well; but where's your
balance?"

"Then why don't you come in with us and supply the balance?" she
rejoined, briskly. "Goodness knows, Elder, we'd be glad to have you!"

Then came a red-letter day for Janice Day. She had almost lost hope of
getting her "heart's desire"--the little motor car that Daddy had spoken
of. Although his letters had been particularly cheerful of late, he had
said nothing more about his promise.

Marty brought her home a thick letter from the post office and gave it
to her at the dinner table. When she eagerly slit the flap of the
envelope and pulled out the contents, there was flirted out upon the
tablecloth a queer-looking certificate.

"Hullo! what's this?" demanded Marty, with all the impudence of a boy.

"Put that down, Marty," commanded his mother.

"By jinks! What's this in the corner?" he yelled. "A thousand dollars?
_A thousand dollars!_ Janice Day! you're as rich as cream!"

"Hi tunket, boy!" ejaculated his father. "Le's see