r, and departed.

Janice did not remain long. Miss 'Rill would sit by the child for the
remainder of the afternoon; and even her mother was anxious to help and
promised to come over and stay all night at Hopewell's.

"I ain't got nothin' ag'in the poor child, that's sure," Mrs.
Scattergood told Janice. "It's only Hopewell that's so triflin'--he an'
his fiddle. Jest like his father before him!"

But the storekeeper's fiddle was silent a good deal of the time now;
only when Miss 'Rill or Janice urged him did the man take up the
instrument that had once been so much his comfort--and little Lottie's
delight.

But now, on this sorrowful afternoon, Janice went back slowly toward
home with a very serious mind indeed. On the way she met Nelson Haley
coming from school.

"Congratulations--and then some!" he cried, shaking hands with Janice.

"Whatever are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled.

"Marty has been telling everybody the great and good news!" he said,
staring at her. "Why! what makes you so solemn? Do you mean to say that
you can't decide what kind of an auto to buy, and that is what has
soured our Janice's usually sweet disposition?"

"Oh, Nelson!" gasped the girl, suddenly clinging to his arm, for she
really felt a weakness in her knees.

"Hold on! hold on! bear up! What's the matter?"

"I forgot about poor Daddy's check. Of course--that's the way out."

"What's the way out?" he demanded.

"Haven't you heard about poor little Lottie?"

"What's happened to her?" he asked, anxiously.

She told him swiftly. Then stopped. He demanded:

"What's that got to do with the auto, Janice?"

"Don't you see it has _everything_ to do with it, Nelson?" she returned,
gravely. "Of course, I could not buy a car when Lottie needs some of my
money so much. She shall start for Boston just as soon as she is well
enough to go--and of course Miss 'Rill will go with her. Hopewell cannot
leave the store. Lottie shall go to the specialist, Nelson."

For a minute the school-teacher was silent. He looked at the girl's
shining, earnest face in a way she had never noticed before. But at last
he only smiled a little queerly, and said:

"Why--Well, Janice Day, there's no odor of gasoline about _that_!"

CHAPTER XXIX

JANICE DAY'S FIRST LOVE LETTER

In a week, although little Lottie's head was still bandaged, she was
driven over to Middletown with Miss 'Rill, Walky Dexter being the
driver, of course, and took a trai