Janice Day, Young Homemaker | Page 9

before." "Yes, Stella, you told me," agreed Janice.
"Of course I did. And I want you to come. I couldn't really have a party without you, Janice. But I am not so sure about some of the girls."
"Oh, dear me!" murmured Janice. "If I was going to have a regular party I'd invite all the girls in our class--or else none at all."
"Now, that's just like you! You always are so quick. How did you know I didn't want to invite her?" complained Stella, pouting.
"I didn't know. Whom do you mean to leave out?" Janice asked, smiling.
"There! That's what my mother says! You are always so shrewd and sly."
"Oh!" cried Janice not at all pleased, "does your mother think I am sly?"
"We-ell, she said you were shrewd," admitted Stella, changing color. "Now, don't get mad, Janice Day. I want you to help me."
"You go about it in a funny way," said Janice, rather piqued. "I am not sly enough to be of any use to you, I guess."
"Now, don't be angry!" wailed the other girl. "What I mean is, that you always see through things and can get out of difficulties."
"I didn't know I got into difficulties--not many anyway," Janice added, with a little sigh.
"Dear me, Janice! don't split hairs--please," said the very selfish and self-centered Stella. "I want your help. Do tell me how to get out of asking that girl to my party without offending her friends--for she has got friends, curiously enough."
"For goodness' sake!" gasped Janice. "What girl do you wish to snub, Stella?"
"There you go with your nasty insinuations!" exclaimed Stella, whiningly. "I don't want to snub anybody. But some people are impossible!"
"Meaning me?" Janice asked with twinkling eyes.
"Of course not. Why will you so misunderstand me? I wouldn't snub you, Janice Day. I am speaking of Amy Carringford."
"Oh! It is Amy you wish to snub, is it?" Janice said, with a change of tone.
Even Stella noted the change. She seized Janice's arm.
"Now, don't! You made me say that. I don't really want to snub her. I don't want to hurt her feelings. But, of course, I can't have those pauper children at my party--Amy and Gummy. 'Gummy!' What a frightful name! And his pants are patched at the knees. They wouldn't--either of them--have a decent thing to wear, of course."
Janice said nothing for a long minute. Stella's blue eyes, which were actually more staring than pretty, began to cloud ominously. Instinctively she sensed that Janice was not with her in this.
"Amy Carringford is a nice girl, I think," Janice Day said mildly. "And perhaps she has a party dress, Stella."
"There you go! Always standing up for anything mean or common," stormed Stella. "I might have known you wouldn't help me."
"Why did you ask me then?" Janice inquired with some rising spirit.
"Because you're always so sharp about things; and you can help me if you want to."
Stella Latham was certainly much more frankly spoken than politic. Janice Day excused her schoolmate to a degree. She usually found excuses for every one but herself.
"I was only trying to help you," Janice said slowly. you haven't really anything against Amy, have you?"
"She's a pauper--a regular pauper."
"Why, that's not so," interrupted Janice. "A pauper must be one who is supported at the public expense. We had that word only the other day in our lesson, you know, Stella. And Amy Carringford--or her folks-- aren't like that."
"Nobody knows what or who they are. They've only just come here and from goodness knows where. And they live in that little tumble-down house in Mullen Lane, and--"
"Oh, dear me, Stella!" interrupted Janice, with a sudden laugh. "That list of crimes will never send anybody to jail. You are awfully critical. Amy has awfully pretty manners, and just wonderful hair. She sings and dances well, too. And Gummy--'Gumswith' is his full name--"
"'Gumswith!' Fancy!" ejaculated the farmers critical
daughter.
"Yes, isn't it awful?" returned Janice. "Anybody would be sorry for a boy with such a name. And he hasn't even a middle one they can call him by. You know it isn't his fault, Stella, that he has such a horrid name."
"No, I don't suppose it is. But--"
"And Amy is so nice. She is just about my size, Stella, and if you promise never to tell--"
"What is it? A secret?" eagerly demanded Stella, as Janice hesitated.
"Yes. Or it will be a secret if you promise."
"Cross my heart, Janice," declared Stella, who loved secrets.
"Well--now," said Janice Day, most seriously, "if you invite Amy, and she can't come because she hasn't any party dress, I'll lend her one of mine that was made for me just before my mother died. I am wearing only black and white. I've outgrown those new dresses that were made for me then, I guess. And Amy is just a weeny bit smaller than