It was while Janice was staying with Mrs. Hopewell Drugg during the storekeeper's absence in Boston, that she met Sophie Narnay on the street.

The child looked somewhat better as to dress, for Janice had found her some frocks weeks before, and Mrs. Narnay had utilized the gifts to the very best advantage. But the poor little thing was quite as hungry looking as ever.

"Oh, Miss Janice!" she said, "I wish you'd come down to see our baby. She's ever so much worse'n she was. I guess 'twas a good thing 'at we never named her. 'Twould jest ha' been a name wasted."

"Oh, dear, Sophie! is she as bad as all that?" cried Janice.

"Yep," declared the child.

"Can't the doctor help her?"

"He's come a lot—an' he's been awful nice. Mom says she didn't know there was such good folks in the whole worl' as him an' you. But there's somethin' the matter with the baby that no doctor kin help, so he says. An' I guess he's got the rights of it," concluded Sophie, in her old-fashioned way.

"I will certainly come down and see the poor little thing," promised Janice. "And your mamma and Johnnie and Eddie. Is your father at home now?"

"Nop. He's up in Concannon's woods yet. They've took a new contrac'—him and Mr. Trimmins. An' mebbe it'll last all Summer. Dear me! I hope so. Then pop won't be home to drink up all the money mom earns."

"I will come down to-morrow," Janice promised, for she was busy just then and could not accompany Sophie to Pine Cove.

This was Saturday afternoon and Janice was on her way to the steamboat dock to see if certain freight had arrived by the Constance Colfax for Hopewell Drugg's store. She was doing all she could to help 'Rill conduct the business while the storekeeper was away.

During the week she had scarcely been home to the Day house at all. Marty had run the car over to the Drugg place in the morning in time for her to start for Middletown; and in the afternoon her cousin had come for the Kremlin and driven it across town to the garage again.

This Saturday she would not use the car, for she wished to help 'Rill, and Marty had taken a party of his boy friends out in the Kremlin. Marty had become a very efficient chauffeur now and could be trusted, so his father said, not to try to hurdle the stone walls along the way, or to make the automobile climb the telegraph poles.

"Marm" Parraday was sweeping the front porch and steps of the Lake View Inn. Although the Inn had become very well patronized now, the tavernkeeper's vigorous wife was not above doing much of her own work.

"Oh, Janice Day! how be ye?" she called to the girl. "I don't see ye often," and Mrs. Parraday smiled broadly upon her.

As Janice came nearer she saw that Marm Parraday did not look as she once did. Her hair had turned very gray, there were deeper lines in her weather-beaten face, and a trembling of her lips and hands made Janice's heart ache.

If the Inn was doing well and Lem Parraday was prospering, his wife seemed far from sharing in the good times that appeared to have come to the Lake View Inn.

The great, rambling house had been freshened with a coat of bright paint; the steps and porch and porch railings were mended; the sod was green; the flower gardens gay; the gravel of the walks and driveway freshly raked; while the round boulders flanking the paths were brilliant with whitewash.

"Why!" said Janice honestly, "the old place never looked so nice before, Mrs. Parraday. You have done wonders this Spring. I hope you will have a prosperous season."

Mrs. Parraday clutched the girl's arm tightly. Janice saw that her eyes seemed quite wild in their expression as she pointed a trembling finger at the gilt sign at the corner of the house, lettered with the single word: "Bar."

"With that sign a-swingin' there, Janice Day?" she whispered. "You air wishin' us prosperity whilst Lem sells pizen to his feller men?"

"Oh, Mrs. Parraday! I was not thinking of the liquor selling," said
Janice sympathetically.

"Ye'd better think of it, then," pursued the tavernkeeper's wife. "Ye'd better think of it, day and night. That's what I do. I git on my knees and pray 't Lem won't prosper as long as that bar room's open. I do it 'fore Lem himself. He says I'm a-tryin' ter pray the bread-and-butter right aout'n aour mouths. He's so mad at me he won't sleep in the same room an' has gone off inter the west wing ter sleep by hisself. But I don't keer," cried Mrs. Parraday wildly. "Woe ter him that putteth the cup to his neighbor's lips! That's what I tell him. 'Wine is a mocker—strong drink is ragin'.' That's what the Bible says.

"An' Lem—a perfessin' member of Mr. Middler's church—an' me attendin' the same for goin' on thutty-seven years——"

"But surely, Mrs. Parraday, you are not to blame because your husband sells liquor," put in Janice, sorry for the poor woman and trying to comfort her.

"Why ain't I?" sharply demanded the tavern-keeper's wife. "I've been
Lem's partner for endurin' all that time, too—thutty-seven years.
I've been hopin' all the time we'd git ahead an' have suthin' beside a
livin' here in Polktown. I've been hungry for money!

"Like enough if I hadn't been so sharp after it, an' complained so 'cause we didn't git ahead, Lem an' Cross Moore wouldn't never got their heads together an' 'greed ter try rum-selling to make the old Inn pay a profit.

"Oh, yes! I see my fault now. Oh, Lord! I see it," groaned Marm Parraday, clasping her trembling hands. "But, believe me, Janice Day, I never seen this that's come to us. We hev brought the curse of rum inter this taown after it had been free from it for years. An' we shell hafter suffer in the end—an' suffer more'n anybody else is sufferin' through our fault."

She broke off suddenly and, without looking again at Janice, mounted the steps with her broom and disappeared inside the house.

Janice, heartsick and almost in tears, was turning away when a figure appeared from around the corner of the tavern—from the direction of the bar-room, in fact. But Frank Bowman's smiling, ruddy face displayed no sign of his having sampled Lem Parraday's bar goods.

"Hullo, Janice," he said cheerfully. "I've just been having a set-to with Lem—and I don't know but he's got the best of me."

"In what way?" asked the girl, brushing her eyes quickly that the young man might not see her tears.

"Why, this is pay day again, you know. My men take most of the afternoon off on pay day. They are cleaning up now, in the camp house, and will be over by and by to sample some of Lem's goods," and the engineer sighed.

"No, I can't keep them away from the place. I've tried. Some of them won't come; but the majority will be in that pleasing condition known as 'howling drunk' before morning."

"Oh, Frank! I wish Lem would stop selling the stuff," cried Janice.'

"Well, he won't. I've just been at him. I told him if he didn't close his bar at twelve o'clock tonight, according to the law, I'd appear in court against him myself. I mean to stand outside here with Constable Cantor to-night and see that the barroom is dark at twelve o'clock, anyway."

"That will be a splendid move, Frank!" Janice said quickly, and with enthusiasm.

"Ye-es; as far as it goes. But Lem said to me: 'Don't forget this is a hotel, Mr. Bowman, and I can serve my guests in the dining room or in their own rooms, all night long, if I want to.' And that's true."

"Oh, dear me! So he can," murmured Janice.

"He's got me there," grumbled young Bowman. "I never thought Lem
Parraday any too sharp before; but he's learned a lot from Joe Bodley.
That young fellow is about as shrewd and foxy as they make 'em."

"Yet they say he did not sell Hopewell's violin at a profit, as he expected to," Janice observed.

"That's right, too. And it's queer," the engineer said. "I've seen that black-haired, foxy-looking chap around town more than once since Joe bought the fiddle. Hullo! what's the matter with Dexter?"

The engineer had got into step at once with Janice, and they had by this time walked down High Street to the steamboat dock. The freight-house door was open and Walky Dexter had loaded his wagon and was ready to drive up town; but Josephus was headed down the dock.

The expressman was climbing unsteadily to his seat, and in reply to something said by the freight agent, he shouted:

"Thas all right! thas all right! I kin turn Josephus 'round on this dock. Jefers-pelters! he could back clean up town with this load, I sh'd hope!"

Janice had said nothing in reply to Frank Bowman's last query; but the latter added, under his breath: "Goodness! Walky is pretty well screwed-up, isn't he? I just saw him at the hotel taking what he calls a 'snifter.'"

"Poor Walky!" sighed Janice.

"Poor Josephus, I should say," rejoined Frank quickly.

The expressman was turning the old horse on the empty dock. There was plenty of room for this manoeuver; but Walky Dexter's eyesight was not what it should be. Or, perhaps he was less patient than usual with Josephus.

"Git around there, Josephus!" the expressman shouted. "Back! Back! I tell ye! Consarn yer hide!"

He yanked on the bit and Josephus' heavy hoofs clattered on the resounding planks. The wagon was heavily laden; and when it began to run backward, with Walky jerking on the reins, it could not easily be stopped.

A rotten length of "string-piece" had been removed from one edge of the dock, and a new timber had not yet replaced it. As bad fortune would have it, Walky backed his wagon directly into this opening.

"Hold on there! Where ye goin' to—ye crazy ol' critter?" bawled the freight agent.

"Hul-lo! Jefers-pelters!" gasped the suddenly awakened Walky, casting an affrighted glance over his shoulder. "I'm a-backin' over the dump, ain't I? Gid-ap, Josephus!"

But when once Josephus made up his slow mind to back, he did it thoroughly. He, too, expected to feel the rear wheels of the heavy farm wagon bump against the string-piece.

"Gid-ap, Josephus!" yelled Walky again, and rose up to smite the old horse with the ends of the reins. He had no whip—nor would one have helped matters, perhaps, at this juncture.

The rear wheels went over the edge of the dock. The lake was high, being swelled by the Spring floods. "Plump!" the back of the wagon plunged into the water, and, the bulk of the load being over the rear axle, the forward end shot up off the front truck.

Wagon body and freight sunk into the lake. Walky, as though shot from a catapult, described a parabola over his horse's head and landed with a crash on all fours directly under Josephus' nose.

Never was the old horse known to make an unnecessary motion. But the sudden flight and unexpected landing on the dock of his driver, quite excited Josephus.

With a snort he scrambled backward, the front wheels went over the edge of the dock and dragged Josephus with them. Harnessed as he was, and still attached to the shafts, the old horse went into the lake with a great splash.

"Hey! Whoa! Whoa, Josephus! Jefers-pelters! ain't this a purty to-do?" roared Walky, recovering his footing with more speed than grace.

"Naow see that ol' critter! What's he think he's doin'—takin' a swimmin' lesson?"

For Josephus, with one mighty plunge, broke free from the shafts. He struck out for the shore and reached shallow water almost immediately. Walky ran off the dock and along the rocky shore to head the old horse off and catch him.

But Josephus had no intention of being so easily caught. Either he had lost confidence in his owner, or some escapade of his colthood had come to his memory. He splashed ashore, dodged the eager hand of Walky, and with tail up, nostrils expanded, mane ruffled, and dripping water as he ran, Josephus galloped up the hillside and into the open lots behind Polktown.

Walky Dexter, with very serious mien, came slowly back to the dock. Janice and Frank Bowman, as well as the freight agent, had been held spellbound by these exciting incidents. Frank and the agent were now convulsed with laughter; but Janice sympathized with the woeful expressman.

The latter halted on the edge of the dock, gazing from the shafts of his wagon sticking upright out of the lake to the snorting old horse up on the hill. Then he scratched his bare, bald crown, sighed, and muttered quite loud enough for Janice to hear:

"Jefers-pelters! I reckon old Josephus hez come out for prohibition, an' no mistake!"