Janice Day, the Young Homemaker Part 10

"They didn't fight," said Janice shortly. "What you heard was Olga pitching coal at 'em. And then she up and left us. We had to get another girl. And this new girl won't clean up the mess in the back kitchen. That's what you did Arlo Weeks and I've got to clean up that room because of you."

"Oh, Je-mi-ma!" gasped Junior, giggling no more now. "Is that how Miss Peckham's Sam-cat got hurt?"

"What do you know about that?" demanded Janice quickly.

"Miss Peckham's been all over the neighborhood talking about it.

She found the cat with a broken leg. Got a veterinary. Put it in a plaster cast. Did you ever?"

"Well!" murmured Janice.

"I tell you what; don't let's say anything about it," begged Junior eagerly. "I tell you what I'll do. I'll come over Sat.u.r.day and help you clean up all the mess the cats and the girl made. But don't say a word."

"Well," said Janice again.

"Now you promise, Janice," wheedled Junior. "If my mother learns all about the cat business, there will be a big row. And all I did--really--was to open that back kitchen door and then shut it again after the cats got inside."

"They would never have gone in if you hadn't thrown the catnip in there," declared Janice warmly. "You know that very well, Junior."

"Well, you won't say anything about it, will you, Janice, if I come and clean up the kitchen?"

"Well," said Janice for a third time, "let's see you do it. I won't promise until the kitchen is cleaned."

But Arlo Junior went off with a grin on his face. He knew Janice would not tell if he kept his share of the agreement.

Janice was anxious to know how Delia, the new girl, was getting on with the housework. There was a strong smell of scorching vegetables the moment Janice opened the back door. The kitchen was empty, but the pots on the stove foretold the fact that dinner was in preparation at least two hours before it was necessary.

And the vegetables! Janice ran to save them. There was a roaring fire under them; but it was the water that had boiled over, after all. Delia knew nothing, it was evident, about simmering vegetables. Boiling them furiously was her way.

"Oh, dear," sighed the girl, "I wonder if anything else can happen to the Days! There must be something the matter with me or someone would sometime do something right in this house.

Daddy's dinner will not be fit to eat.

"That book on dietary that I got out of the library and tried to read said that good cooking was most important. I don't know, for I guess I didn't understand much of the book--not even of that part I read--but I do know that a well-cooked meal tastes better than a dried-out one. Oh, dear!"

Janice shoved the pots back on the stove, and shut off the drafts so that the fire would die down. She

wondered where Delia could be. She had not seen her outside the house. She ran up the back stairs and looked in the girl's room before she went to her own.

Delia was not upstairs. Janice could not see that much had been done in the way of housework--at least on the upper floor. Then, suddenly, she discovered where the new girl was.

From the living room came the loud drumming of the player piano.

The instrument had not been much in use since the death of Janice's mother. Somehow it seemed to both Janice and daddy that they did not care to hear the piano that mother played so frequently for them in the evening.

But the instrument was in use now--no mistaking it. There are different ways of playing a mechanical piano. Delia's way was to get all the noise out of it that was possible.

Janice ran downstairs in some vexation. There was no particular crime in the new girl's using the instrument, even without asking permission. Yet when there was so much to do about the house and, as she saw plainly, there had been so little done, Janice was vexed enough to give Delia a good talking to.

And then she hesitated with her hand on the k.n.o.b of the living-room door. If she got Delia angry the woman might leave as abruptly as Olga Cedarstrom had left. It was a thought suggesting tragedy. Janice waited to calm herself while the new girl pumped away on the piano in a perfect anvil chorus.

Janice opened the door. By the number of rolls spread out on the top of the piano it was plain that Delia had played more music than she had done housework. The Garibaldi March came to a noisy conclusion."

"Oh, my!" sighed Delia, in her squeaky voice, "ain't that wonderful?"

"I should say it was," Janice said quickly. "Wonderful, indeed!"

"Oh!" shrieked Delia, flopping around on the bench and glaring at Janice, one hand clutching at her bosom. "You scare't me."

"I think you ought to be scared. Your vegetables were boiling over, Delia."

"Oh, you came in so sudden!" gasped the big woman. "I--I've got a weak heart. You oughtn't to scare me so. I can see mebbe that Swede girl had a hard time here. There is more than cats is the matter. And that woman next door has been around to find out how her cat's leg come broke."

If a fluffy little kitten, chasing a ball of yarn, had suddenly turned around and attacked Janice, tooth and nail, the girl would have been no more surprised.

"Why, Delia, I am sorry if I frightened you," Janice said. "But, you know, this is not your part of the house; and having put on the vegetables, even if it is too early, I should think you would remain in the kitchen and watch the pots."

The giantess arose and wiped an eye. She sniveled into the corner of her ap.r.o.n.

"Well, I didn't expect to be bossed by a child," she squeaked, "when I came to work here. I don't like it."

She flounced out of the room, leaving the piano open and the rolls strewn about.

"Oh, dear me! Now I have done it!" groaned Janice Day. "What will Daddy say if I have got Delia mad, and she goes? It is just awful!"

It really did seem to be a tragic situation. Janice shook her head and looked around the room. Everything was just as it had been the night before when they went to bed, save the opened music cabinet and littered piano.

There were daddy's cigar ashes in the tray; a cup with tea grounds in it as he had left it by his elbow. The smoking stand was not tidied nor the table. There was dust on everything, and a litter of torn papers on the rug.

Why had Delia not cleaned up the room, if she had so much time to play the piano?

"I suppose if I ask her why she did not sweep and dust in here she will tell me that she forgot whether I said to use the blue dustcloth or the pink," groaned Janice.

One girl they had had actually gave that excuse as

logical when the work was neglected. There was nothing laughable in this situation--nothing at all!

"Oh, if I could only do something myself," murmured the young girl.

After what had occurred she thought it best to say nothing more to Delia at the time. She hated to bother daddy again; but she wondered what he would do if he had to confront such circ.u.mstances at the bank.

"Of course, men's work is awfully important," Janice sighed; "but what would daddy do if confronted by these little annoying things that seem to be connected with the housework?"

There were a dozen things Janice would have preferred to do right now. But she could not have daddy come home and see such a looking living-room. She put on ap.r.o.n and cap and went to work immediately to do what Delia should have done earlier in the day.

In an hour or so the room was swept, dusted, and well aired. She had returned the music rolls to the cabinet and closed the piano.

She wished there was a key to it so that Delia could not get at it again, for if the new girl was musically inclined Janice foresaw little housework done while she was at school and daddy was at work.

Then Janice ventured into the kitchen. Delia was not there. The vegetables were already cooked and were in the warmer where they would gradually become dried out. Janice had done the marketing on her way to school that morning, and had sent home a steak.

The steak was already cooked and was on a platter, likewise in the warming oven. And it was yet an hour to dinner time.