_ CHAPTER IX. SHOCKS AND FROCKS
Janice found herself clinging tightly to Amy Carringford's hand and Amy clinging tightly to hers, as the rubbish wagon rattled away with Delia and her grim father perched on the high seat, while the black oilcloth bag rattled around in the otherwise empty body of the cart.
"Oh, Janice!" gasped Amy at last.
"Oh, Amy!" rejoined her friend. "And no dinner for daddy when he comes home!"
Amy could not comment on this catastrophe for the moment, for Miss Peckham (the only neighbor who seemed to have marked the departure of Delia) came swiftly into view. Miss Peckham's blinds were always bowed, and one never knew which blind she was lurking behind.
"Well!" she exclaimed (and Janice thought she said it quite cheerily), "so that one's gone, has she?"
"They--they just seem to come and go," Janice replied, almost in tears. "Oh, dear! Delia wasn't much; but I did hope she would stay a little longer."
"'Much'!" sniffed Miss Peckham. "I should say she wasn't. And she isn't even sensible. I should think even a girl of your age could have seen she was more'n half crazy. Wouldn't expect your father to notice nothing. He's only a man."
"Oh! Really crazy, do you mean?" Amy Carringford burst out.
"She never was more'n half bright, that Biddy Garrity. That was her name before she married Tom Burns. And he died. Blowed up in the powder mill. That was old Garrity who came for her. She ain't got no right to run off and leave her two children and that old man to get along as best they can. But she does it--often. I thought there would be trouble just as soon as I seen her sitting on your steps t'other day."
"Well, I wish we'd known it," sighed Janice. "She-- she did seem sort of funny. But she wasn't much worse than some of the others we've had."
"Humph!" sniffed Miss Peckham, "just what I told your father last night. You need a manager here--somebody to take hold"
"I shall have to take hold now and see about getting dinner for daddy," Janice responded, recovering a measure of her self-confidence. "Come on in, Amy, and watch me work."
"If I come in and help you," said her friend. "I guess you won't have to do it all."
A glance through the lower rooms proved that Delia had done little more toward straightening the house this day than the day before.
"Goodness, mercy me, Janice Day!" exclaimed Amy Carringford. "I'm awfully glad we don't have to have servants. It must be awful!"
"It just is," sighed Janice. "You never know when you come home from school whether you will find the girl or not. And you're 'most always sure to find that not half the work's been done. Well, I can get daddy some sort of a dinner myself tonight."
"What are you going to cook? Let me help," said Amy eagerly. "I know how to make lovely rolls--only you have to set the sponge the night before. And Judge Peters's pudding is just luscious! Only you have to have currants and citron and chopped nuts to go into it."
"We won't have either of those things for dinner, then," said Janice, with a cheerful laugh.
"Well, we don't have them nowadays," sighed Amy. "But we used to."
"I suppose you have had to give up lots of nice things since your father died," rejoined, her friend sympathetically. "But," and she giggled, "Gummy said yesterday he couldn't give up his name."
"The poor boy!" Amy declared, shaking her head. "Give me an apron, Janice. I am going to peel those potatoes and that turnip. Potatoes and turnip mashed together makes a nice dish. And Gummy can't really give up his name."
"'Gumswith'! It's awful," murmured Janice. "How ever--"
"Well I'll tell you. Poor dear father had a half-brother who was lots older than he. Grandmother Carringford had been married before she married our grandfather, you see. And her first husband's name was Mr. Gumswith. John Gumswith. It's not so bad as a last name, you see."
"No," agreed Janice, her eyes twinkling. "Not when you say it quick."
Amy laughed again, busy peeling the vegetables. And she peeled them thin, Janice noticed. Amy had evidently been taught the fine points of frugal housekeeping.
"So poor Gummy got his name from John Gumswith, Junior. I guess father's half-brother was a queer man. He said he'd never marry, because he was always wandering about the world."
"Like a peddler?" ventured Janice.
"No. But he went to foreign countries. He always expected to earn a lot of money by some stroke of fortune, mother says. But none of us children ever saw him. Before Gummy was born Uncle John Gumswith started off for Australia, and mother and father never heard of him, or from him after that."
"But they named poor Gummy after him," commented Janice, busy with the onion she was chopping to season the hamburger roast, and trying to keep the juice of the onion out of her eyes.
"You see," Amy confessed confidentially, "when father and mother were married Uncle John gave them a little nest egg. You understand? He had some money, and he gave some of it to them. And then, he was father's only living relative; so they named the first baby 'Gumswith'--so that the family name should not die out you know."
"My goodness!" exclaimed Janice, but whether because of the saddling of Gummy Carringford with such a name, or because of the squirting of onion juice into her left eye, she did not explain at the moment.
"So Gummy is Gummy," sighed his sister. "Father didn't name him that just for the money's sake. Mother says a million dollars wouldn't really pay for such a name. But father thought a lot of Uncle John Gumswith.
"But when Gummy grows up, he will have to go through life, so he says, signing has name 'G. Carringford,'" and Amy began to giggle at this thought.
"It is really too bad," said Janice, but her mind was on another subject just then. "How quick you are, Amy! You know how to do everything, don't you?"
"No I don't. But what I know, I know well," said her friend in her quiet way. "Is your water hot? This turnip wants to go right on, for it take longer to cook than the potatoes."
"Here you are," said Janice, seizing the pot and carrying it to the stove. There she poured boiling water over the turnip and set the pot where it would continue to simmer. "It's too early to put the roast in yet. Come on upstairs, Amy. I know that Delia neither made up my bed nor dusted my room. I did daddy's before I went to school this morning."
"Such a nice house!" murmured Amy, as she followed Janice upstairs by the way of the front hall.
"And not half kept," sighed Janice. "When dear mother was with us--"
She and Amy said no more until Janice's bedroom was all spick and span again. Janice hugged her friend heartily when at last the pillows were plumped up at the head of the bed.
"You're a dear!" she said. "You do like me, don't you, Amy?"
"Of course I do."
"Then you'll go to Stella's party with me, you?'
"Oh, but, Janice, I can't!"
"There's that word can't' again," said Janice lightly. "I don't believe in it--no ma'am! You can go if you want to."
"I--I haven't a thing nice enough to wear!" confessed Amy desperately, her face flaming and water standing in her eyes. "As though that was a good reason! Let me show you what I am going to wear."
But the pretty black and white dress that Janice brought forth from her closet only made Amy shake her head.
"Yes. I know. But it is new--and very nice."
"I've never worn it yet," confessed Janice.
"And everything I've got is as old as the hills," groaned Amy Carringford.
"Well, look here--and here--and here!" Janice tossed as many frocks upon the bed. "What do you suppose is going to become of those?"
"Oh, Janice! how pretty they are. This pink and white one--"
"M-mm! my mother made them for me," said Janice, trying to speak bravely. "And now they are too small, anyway. I've grown a lot since a year ago."
"Oh, Janice!"
"So you are going to wear one of them to Stella's party," declared Janice confidently. "The pink and white one if you like."
"Oh, Janice, I can't. My mother wouldn't let me."
"I'm going to make her let you. I'm going to beg her on my knees!" declared Janice, laughing. "Do get into it, Amy, and see if it fits you.
"Wel-l-l!"
It did. There was no doubt but that Amy was just a wee bit smaller than Janice and that the frocks were an almost perfect fit.
"But--but to take a whole new dress from you--a gift! Oh, Janice! I know it isn't right. Mother will not hear of it"
"Mother's going to hear of it--and from me," declared Janice. "To-morrow's Saturday. After I get all the work done, and Arlo Junior helps me clean that back kitchen, I am going to bring this dress down to your house. I know when she once sees it on you, she won't have the heart to say 'No.'"
So, perhaps Janice Day was sly, after all. _