kept him and 'Rill Scattergood apart. And after all,
to be obliged to dispose of it----

Janice remembered how she had brought little Lottie home to the
storekeeper the very day she first met him, and how he had played
"Silver Threads Among the Gold" for her in the dark, musty back room of
the old store. Why! Hopewell Drugg would be utterly lost without the
old fiddle.

She was glad Mrs. Beaseley was rather an unobservant person, for
Janice's eyes were tear-filled when she looked into the cottage
kitchen. Nelson, however, was not at home. He had gone for a long
tramp through the fields and had not yet returned. So, leaving word
for him to come over to the Day house that evening, Janice went slowly
back to her car.

Before she could start it 'Rill came outside. Bodley had gone, and the
storekeeper's wife was frankly weeping.

"Poor Hopewell! he's sold the fiddle," sobbed 'Rill.

"To that awful bartender?" demanded Janice.

"Just as good as. The fellow's paid a deposit on it. If he comes back
with the rest of the hundred dollars in a month, the fiddle is his.
Otherwise, Hopewell declares he will send it to New York and take what
he can get for it."

"Oh, dear me!" murmured Janice, almost in tears, too.

"It--it is all Hopewell can do," pursued 'Rill. "He has nothing else
on which he can raise the necessary money. Lottie must have her
chance."

CHAPTER XIX

THE GOLD COIN

The campaign against liquor selling in Polktown really had been opened
on that Monday morning when Janice and Frank Bowman conferred together
near the scene of the young engineer's activities for the railroad.

The determination of two wide-awake young people to _do something_ was
the beginning of activities.

Not only was the time ripe, but popular feeling was already stirred in
the matter. The thoughtful people of Polktown were becoming
dissatisfied with the experiment. Those who had considered it of small
moment in the beginning were learning differently. If Polktown was to
be "boomed" through such disgraceful means as the sale of intoxicants
at the only hotel, these people with suddenly awakened consciences
would rather see the town lie fallow for a while longer.

The gossip regarding Hopewell Drugg's supposed fall from sobriety was
both untrue and unkind. That the open bar at Lem Parraday's was a real
and imminent peril to Polktown, however, was a fact now undisputed by
the better citizens.

Janice had sound