Christmas stories; Families -- Juvenile fiction; Young women -- Juvenile fiction
"It's a motorcycle," thought Janice. "I didn't know anybody owned one
around Poketown."
Turning the bend in the road the 'cycle flashed into view, along with a
whisp of dust. A young man rode the machine--a young man who looked
entirely different from the youths of Poketown. Janice looked at him
with interest as he flashed past. She thought he was going so fast
that he would never notice her curiosity.
He was muscularly built, with a round head set firmly upon a solid
neck, from which his shirt was turned well away, thus displaying the
cords of his throat to advantage. He was well bronzed by the sun, and
the heavy crop of hair, on which he wore a visorless round cap, was
crisp and of a dull gold color. He really _was_ a good-looking young
man, and in his knickerbockers and golf stockings Janice thought he
seemed very "citified" indeed.
"He's a college boy, I am sure," decided the girl, with interest,
watching the rider out of sight. "I couldn't see his eyes behind those
dust glasses; but I believe there was a dimple in his cheek. If his
face was washed, I don't doubt but what he'd be good-looking," and she
laughed. "Why! here's Walky Dexter!"
The red-faced driver of the "party wagon" drew in Josephus and his
mate, with a flourish.
"Wal, now! I _am_ beat," he ejaculated, his little eyes twinkling.
"Can't be I've found a _lost_ Day?"
"No, indeed, Mr. Dexter," she told him. "I _was_ thinking I'd walk to
the Hammetts'; but it's turned so hot and dusty----"
"And the Hammett gals live two good mile ahead o' ye."
"Oh! as far as that?"
"Surest thing ye know. Better hop in an' jog along back 'ith me," said
Walkworthy Dexter, cordially.
"Can I, Mr. Dexter?"
"You air jest as welcome as the flowers in May," he assured her.
"Whoa, Josephus. Stand still, Kate! My sakes! but the flies bite the
critters this morning, an' no mistake."
Janice "hopped in," and Mr. Dexter clucked to the willing horses.
"I jest been takin' a party of our young folks over to Middletown to
take examinations for entrance to the Academy," proclaimed Walky. "An'
that remin's me," added he. "Did yer see that feller go by on one o'
them gasoline bikes?"
"On the motorcycle?"
"Ya-as."
"I saw him," admitted Janice.
"Know him?"
"Of course not. He doesn't belong in Poketown, I'm sure."
"Mebbe he will," said Walky, his eyes twinkling with fun again.
Janice looked at him, puzzled.
"Ain't you heard?" he questioned. "'Rill Scattergood's resigned and
the school committee is lookin' for a new teacher. _That_ feller's got
the bee in his bonnet, they told me at Middletown."
"The school-teaching bee?" laughed the girl.
"Yep. He'd been for his certif'cate. He's been writin' to the
Poketown committee."
"But--but he isn't much more than a boy himself, is he?"
"They tell me he's been through college. Must be a smart youngster
for, as you say, he's nothin' but a kid."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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