"Then why don't you come in with us and supply the balance?" she rejoined, briskly. "Goodness knows, Elder, we'd be glad to have you!" Then came a red-letter day for Janice Day. She had almost lost hope of getting her "heart's desire"--the little motor car that Daddy had spoken of. Although his letters had been particularly cheerful of late, he had said nothing more about his promise. Marty brought her home a thick letter from the post office and gave it to her at the dinner table. When she eagerly slit the flap of the envelope and pulled out the contents, there was flirted out upon the tablecloth a queer-looking certificate. "Hullo! what's this?" demanded Marty, with all the impudence of a boy. "Put that down, Marty," commanded his mother. "By jinks! What's this in the corner?" he yelled. "A thousand dollars? _A thousand dollars!_ Janice Day! you're as rich as cream!" "Hi tunket, boy!" ejaculated his father. "Le's see that? It can't be!" "It is!" shrieked Janice, jumping up and dancing around the room. "It's for my gasoline runabout! I'm going to have it--I certainly _am_! Hurray! hurray!" and she kissed her aunt heartily and then danced another war dance with Marty around the table. "Wal, I snum!" exclaimed Uncle Jason, still staring at the bit of paper, which was a Wells-Fargo express check for the sum named. Janice could scarcely eat any dinner, she was so excited. What was mere eating to the possession of this check and the knowledge that all was going well once more with dear Daddy? Her most particular friends must share the joy with her. She hurried into her jacket and hat, and ran across town to see Miss 'Rill; for, after all, the little spinster was her dearest and closest friend in Poketown. But was this Miss 'Rill--this frantic, wild-eyed creature, hatless and with her hair flying, who came running down High Street just as Janice reached the corner of the street on which Hopewell Drugg's store was situated? _Could_ it be 'Rill Scattergood? "Oh, Janice! Janice! have you heard about it? They just sent for me," gasped the little spinster lady. "What do you mean, 'Rill? _Who_ sent for you?" Janice demanded. "It's poor little Lottie!" cried the other, dragging Janice along with her. "She's fallen. I've been expecting it. She moves so quickly, you know, in spite of her blindness. And now she's fallen into the cellar----" "Whose cellar? Oh! is she very, very badly hurt?" cried Janice, equally anxious. "Hopewell had the trap door open. She came running into the shop and went straight down on her poor little head! Oh! she's all cut and bruised----" Miss 'Rill could say no more. Nor did Janice need to ask, for they were at the store and pushing through the little group of helpless but sympathizing neighbors. Dr. Poole was already there. They had Lottie in bed, all bandaged and white.