But she refused to be driven out of the Poketown School by the unkindness and discourtesy of the larger girls. Her unpopularity, however, made her respond the more quickly to 'Rill Scattergood's advances.
The school-teacher showed plainly that she appreciated Janice's friendliness. Janice brought her luncheon and ate it with the teacher. They walked down High Street together after school, and on Friday the pretty little school-mistress invited the new girl home for tea.
"Mother wants to see you again. Mother's took quite a fancy to you, Janice--and that's a fact," said Miss 'Rill.
"Of course, we're only boarding; but Mrs. Beasely--she's a widow lady--makes it very homey for us. If mother stays we're going to housekeeping ourselves. And I believe I _shall_ give up teaching school. I'm really tired of it."
Janice gladly accepted the invitation, and she bribed one of the youngsters with a nickel to run around to Hillside Avenue and tell Aunt Almira where she was.
Miss 'Rill's boarding place was on the same side street where was located Hopewell Drugg's store. Janice had thought often of poor little Lottie and her father during this week; but as they neared the store and she heard the wailing notes of the man's violin again, she felt a little diffident about broaching the subject of the storekeeper and his child to the school-mistress. It was Miss Scattergood herself who opened the matter.
She half halted and held up her hand for silence, as she listened to "Silver Threads Among the Gold."
"That's a dreadful pretty tune, I think," she said. "It used to be awful pop'lar when--when I came here to Poketown to teach school."
"Mr. Drugg likes it, I guess," said Janice, lightly. "I've heard him play it before."
"Have you?" queried Miss 'Rill, with that little birdlike tilt of her head. "So you know Mr. Drugg--and poor little Lottie?"
"I've met them both--once," admitted the girl.
"Ah! then you know how little Lottie is to be pitied?"
"And isn't he to be pitied, too?" Janice could not help but ask.
Miss 'Rill blushed--such a becoming blush as it was, too! She answered honestly: "I think so. Poor Hopewell! And I think he plays the fiddle real sweet, too.
"But don't say anything before mother about him. Mr. Drugg's never been one of ma's favorites," added the teacher, earnestly.