CHAPTER VI. THE CARRINGFORDS

Janice Day was a friendly little soul; but she was not a girl who made those close friendships that so many girls make during their schooldays. There was no one girl from whom she was almost inseparable.

Janice was just as good friends with Amy Carringford as she was with Stella Latham; only Amy had been attending the grammar school a much shorter time than had the farmer's daughter.

Now circumstances attending Stella's proposed birthday party caused Janice to become much better acquainted with Amy Carringford. In seeking to do something for Stella, Janice was determined to do something for Amy.

The Carringford family had taken up their residence during the winter in Mullen Lane; and it must be confessed that Mullen Lane was not considered an aristocratic part of the town. Of course, poor people have to live where living is cheap; but it was said that Mrs. Carringford, who was a widow, had bought the little cottage--not much better than a hut--in which she and her little family had taken up their dwelling.

Why people like the Carringford, manifestly well bred and intelligent, had chosen Mullen Lane to live in puzzled not only the busybodies, like Miss Peckham, of this part of Greensboro, but amazed other people as well.

Wherever Mrs. Carringford appeared--at church, Or in the neighborhood stores on Knight and Cassandra Streets--people saw that she was a well bred woman, though plainly, even shabbily, dressed.

There were several children besides Amy and the Unfortunately- named Gumswith, and they dressed poorly, too. But even if Gummy's trousers were patched at the knees, as Stella Latham had pointed out, they were patched neatly, and his linen was fresh.

Of course, nobody called on Mrs. Carringford; at least, almost nobody. The rickety little cottage in Mullen Lane did not attract callers by its outward appearance, that was sure. That it was a shelter for a family that

had been sorely tried by fate, none of the neighbors knew.

It was Janice Day, when she made a frank attempt to know Amy Carringford better, who began first to learn particulars about the Carringford family. There was not much queer or mysterious about them; merely they were people who failed to advertise their private affairs to the community at large.

Janice had gained Stella Latham's promise that she would not tell the secret of the party dress, if Amy should consent to borrow it, before she sounded Amy as to whether she was going to accept the invitation to

the party or not. According to Stella, who was really very silly about such things, the birthday party was to be a very "dressy" affair. Stella talked about this phase of it in season and out.

First of all, Janice demanded that one of the highly ornate invitations Stella's mother had had printed in the Greensboro Bugle printing office should be sent to Amy. There should be no hedging, Janice determined, after that. Amy was to be asked like the other girls and boys of their grade.

"But if she hasn't got a decent dress?" murmured Stella, when she was mailing the invitation to Amy.

"I told you I'd see that she did have a party dress," Janice said sharply. "I can't agree to find whole trousers for Gummy," and she giggled; "so you needn't invite him if you don't want to. But Amy will be all right."

"Maybe she will be too proud to wear your dress, Janice Day!" exclaimed Stella.

"Then she won't come," rejoined Janice. "But you are not to tell a soul that the dress is mine, if she does wear it."

"We-ell," sighed Stella, somewhat relieved.

The farmer's daughter knew that there would be much comment if she left Amy off the invitation list. She was glad to leave the matter in Janice Day's hands. And she did not remark again, at least, not openly, upon Janice being "so sly."

Without being at all sly, Janice did go about doing something for Amy Carringford with considerable shrewdness. She had never walked home with Amy from school. She did not like the purlieus of Mullen Lane. But

this afternoon she attached herself to Amy with all the power of adherence of a mollusk, and they were chattering too fast to stop abruptly when they came to the comer of Knight Street, where usually Janice turned off.

Mullen Lane touched Love Street at its upper end, so Janice could go all the way to the Carringford house without going much out of her way. She went on with Amy, swinging her books; and at first Amy did not seem to notice that Janice was keeping with her right into the muddy, littered lane on which she lived.

"Why, Janice!" said Amy, finally, "you are away out of your way." "Oh, I can go up the lane to Love Street," returned Janice carelessly,

and just as though she were used to doing that.

Amy, who was a pretty, blonde girl, gazed at her companion rather curiously; but Janice was quite calm.

"That is the house where I live," said Amy, in a changed tone, as they came in sight of the cottage.

"Oh, yes," replied Janice.

Aside from the fact that the house needed paint and new window shutters, and a new roof, and new planks for the piazza, and numerous other things, it was not such a bad looking house. Janice noticed something at first glance: it was only things that poor people could not get or that a boy could not tinker that was needed about the Carringford house to make it neat and comfortable.

The fences were on the line, had been braced, and there were no pickets missing. The gates hung true. The walks were neatly kept and there were brilliant flower beds in front, for flower seeds cost little. What the Carringford could do to make the place homelike without spending money, had certainly been done.

"It's an awful place to live," ventured Amy, still gazing sidewise at Janice.

"Oh," said the latter brightly, "you don't mean that! You are all together and are all well."

"Yes, there are a lot of us." And Amy said it with a sigh. "It seems as though there were an awful lot of children, now that father's dead."

"Did you lose your father recently--just as I did my mother?" asked

Janice softly.

"Year and a half ago. That is why we came here, There was some insurance money. Somebody persuaded mother to buy a home for us with it. I don't know whether it was good advice or not; but she bought this place because it was cheap. And she could not pay for it all, at that; so I don't know but we're likely to lose the money she put into it, and the old shack, too."

Amy spoke rather bitterly. Janice, with natural tact, thought this was no time to probe deeper into the financial affairs of the Carringfords. She saw Gummy, who was a year older than Amy, in the yard. He had got home from school first, and he stared when he saw Janice.

"Hullo, Gummy!" the latter called to the boy with the patched trousers. "What are you doing there? Are you laying sod for a border to that garden-bed?"

"No. I'm trimming an opera cloak with green ermine," said the boy, but grinning. "What are you doing around here in Dirty-face Lane?"

"Oh, Gummy!" exclaimed Amy.

"What a name to call the street!" objected Janice.

"Well, that's what it is," returned the boy, continuing to pound the sod into place. "Nobody in this street ever washes his face."

"Why Gummy Carringford!" exclaimed his sister again.

"I'm sure Amy washes her face whether you do or not," chuckled Janice.

"Oh, me!" sniffed the boy, but his eyes still twinkling. "I'm always 'gummy'!"

Janice's laughter was a silver peal that brought three or four younger Carringfords, including the twins, to the side door. They peered out at their sister and the girl with her, but were bashful.

"What a jolly lot of little ones!" sighed Janice. "You know, Amy, I'm all alone. I haven't any brothers or sisters."

"Don't you want to adopt me?" asked Gummy, who overheard her. "I certainly would have to change your name," declared Janice.

"No," and he shook his head, his freckled face becoming grave. "Got to stick to the old name--just like gum sticks."

"Oh, my dear, is that you?" cried Mrs. Carringford, coming to the door, her brown face flushing pink. "And one of your schoolmates?"

She came out on the porch. She had a very pleasant smile, Janice thought, and her brown eyes were as bright as a woodpecker's.

"This is Janice Day. She's in my class, Mother," said Amy, rather hesitatingly, it must be confessed.

"Yes, I know her name," said Mrs. Carringford, and now Janice was near enough to take the hand of Amy's mother. "How do you do, my dear? I have seen you before. I am always glad to meet Amy's school friends."

Had it not been for the warmth of the good woman's greeting Janice would have felt that she was unwelcome at the little cottage on Mullen Lane. Amy seemed to hang back, and not invite her schoolmate into the house.

"Here is something the postman brought you, Amy," her mother went on briskly.

She reached inside the door to a shelf and brought forth an object that Janice recognized. It was the big white envelope containing the invitation to Stella Latham's party.

"Hi! I know what that is," cried Gummy, rising to look at the envelope. "Lots of the fellows got 'em. That Latham girl that lives out on the Dover pike is going to have a party. Crickey! I didn't suppose she would invite us."

"She hasn't invited you I guess," his mother told him. "It is addressed to your sister."

"Oh! I see."

Amy had flushed brightly, and her eyes sparkled. She was tearing open the envelope eagerly.

"Oh!" she sighed, "I didn't expect this. Did you get yours, Janice?" "Yes, Stella asked me. But she didn't send out: all the invitations at

once," said Janice slowly,

"You'll go of course, won't you?" "Why--"

Then suddenly Amy's voice stopped. She looked at her mother.

The glow went out of her face. She let one of the smaller children take the invitation out of her hand.

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I'll have to see."

"Won't you come in, Janice?" asked Mrs. Carringford, seeking to cover her daughter's embarrassment.

"I will for a minute, thank you," was Janice Day's smiling reply. "You know, I like Amy, Mrs. Carringford, and I have never been to her house before, and she has never been to mine."

Her speech helped to cover her friend's hesitation. Amy tripped in behind Janice and suddenly gave her a hearty squeeze.

"She's an awfully nice girl, Mumsy!" she said to her mother.

Janice laughed. But her bright eyes were taking in much besides the smiling expression on her friends' faces. The Carringford kitchen was like wax. Mrs. Carringford had been washing in one comer of the room, and there was a boiler drying behind the stove. But there was nothing sloppy or sudsy about the room. The woman had whisked off the big apron she had worn when Janice entered, and now the latter saw that her work dress was spotless.

"Oh, dear me!" thought Janice, "how nice it would be if our kitchen-- and our whole house--were like this. How delighted Daddy would be."

But there was something else she did not at first see. She had to get acquainted with all the younger Carringfords. She must talk with Mrs. Carringford. Gummy came in after washing his hands and rubbing his shoes clean on the doormat to talk to the caller. Then Amy carried Janice off upstairs to her own tiny room under the eaves.

There was no carpet on the stairs. The matting on the floor of Amy's room was much worn. There was nothing really pretty in the room. Janice suddenly realized that this spelled "poverty."

Yet it was cheerful and speckless, and there were pictures of a kind, and little home-made ornaments and a few books.

The window curtains were of the cheapest, but they were looped back gracefully. There was a workbox and stand that Gummy had made for Amy, for the brother was handy with tools.

Altogether there was something about the room, and about the ugly

little house as well, that Janice Day realized she did not have at home. She had had it once; but it was not present now in the Day house. In the Carringford dwelling the magic wand of a true homemaker had touched it all.

The two girls chatted for almost an hour. It was mostly about school matters and their friends and the teachers. Amy talked, too, about friends in Napsburg, where the Carringfords had lived before moving to Greensboro. Janice was adroit in keeping the conversation on rather general topics, and did not allow the question of Stella's party to come to the fore and never once did she speak of what any of the girls would wear on that occasion.

The time to leave came, and then Janice felt she should enter the wedge which would afterwards gain for her the desired end.

"You'll go to Stella's party, won't you?" asked Janice as she prepared to go home.

"Oh, I don't know. I'll see," Amy hurriedly said.

"Of course you will go," Janice declared firmly. "I want you to go with me. I sha'n't feel like going at all if you stay away, Amy."

They kissed each other on the stairway, and then Janice ran home, swinging her books. She thought the Carringford were very pleasant people. But there were several mysteries about them. First of all she wanted to know how Gummy came to have such an awful, awful name!