Part 12 (1/2)

”What will you take for the pedestal-desk--just as it stands?”

”Why, I'll let Irene put a price on it,” was the reply. ”She knows values better than the rest of us.”

”If it's fixed up, it will be worth twenty dollars,” said Irene, after wheeling her chair to the desk for a critical examination of it.

”Well, what will it cost to fix it up?” demanded Josie.

”Perhaps five dollars.”

”Then I'll give you fifteen for it, just as it stands,” proposed Josie.

”You? What could you do with the clumsy thing?”

”s.h.i.+p it home to Was.h.i.+ngton,” was the prompt reply. ”It would tickle Daddy immensely to own such an unusual article, so I want to make him a present of it on his birthday.”

”Hand over the fifteen dollars, please,” decided Irene.

Josie paid the money. She caught the drayman who had unloaded the furniture and hired him to take the desk at once to the Hathaway residence. She even rode with the man, on the truck, and saw the battered piece of furniture placed in her own room. Leaving it there, she locked her door and went back to the Shop.

The girls were much amused when they learned they had made so important a sale to one of themselves.

”If we had asked Mrs. Dyer to give us fifteen dollars, cold cash,”

remarked Laura, ”she would have snubbed us properly; but the first article from her attic which we sold has netted us that sum and I really believe we will get from fifty to seventy-five dollars more out of the rest of the stuff.”

Mrs. Charleworth dropped in during the afternoon and immediately became interested in the Dudley-Markham furniture. The family to whom it had formerly belonged she knew had been one of the very oldest and most important in Dorfield. The Dudley-Markhams had large interests in Argentine and would make their future home there, but here were the possessions of their grandmothers and great-grandmothers, rescued from their ancient dust, and Mrs. Charleworth was a person who loved antiques and knew their sentimental and intrinsic values.

”The Dyers were foolish to part with these things,” she a.s.serted. ”Of course, Mary Dyer isn't supposed to know antiques, but the professor has lived abroad and is well educated.”

”The professor wasn't at home,” explained Edna. ”Perhaps that was lucky for us. He is in Chicago, and we pleaded so hard that Mrs. Dyer let us go into the attic and help ourselves.”

”Well, that proves she has a generous heart,” said the grand lady, with a peculiar, sphinx-like smile. ”I will buy these two chairs, at your price, when you are ready to sell them.”

”We will hold them for you,” replied Edna. ”They're to be revarnished and properly 'restored,' you know, and we've a man in our employ who knows just how to do it.”

When Mary Louise told Colonel Hathaway, jokingly, at dinner that evening, of Josie's extravagant purchase, her girl friend accepted the chaffing composedly and even with a twinkle in her baby-blue eyes. She made no comment and led Mary Louise to discourse on other subjects.

That night Josie sat up late, locked in her own room, with only the pedestal-desk for company. First she dropped to her knees, pushed up a panel in the square base, and disclosed the fact that in this inappropriate place were several cleverly constructed secret compartments, two of which were well filled with papers. The papers were not those of the Dudley-Markhams; they were not yellowed with age; they were quite fresh.

”There!” whispered the girl, triumphantly; ”the traitor is in my toils.

Is it just luck, I wonder, or has fate taken a hand in the game? How the Kaiser would frown, if he knew what I am doing to-night; and how Daddy would laugh! But--let's see!--perhaps this is just a wedge, and I'll need a sledge-hammer to crack open the whole conspiracy.”

The reason Josie stayed up so late was because she carefully examined every paper and copied most of those she had found. But toward morning she finished her self-imposed task, replaced the papers, slid the secret panel into place and then dragged the rather heavy piece of furniture into the far end of the deep closet that opened off her bedroom. Before the desk she hung several dresses, quite masking it from observation. Then she went to bed and was asleep in two minutes.

CHAPTER XIII JOE LANGLEY, SOLDIER

Strange as it may seem, Mary Louise and her Liberty Girls were regarded with envy by many of the earnest women of Dorfield, who were themselves working along different lines to promote the interests of the government in the Great War. Every good woman was anxious to do her duty in this national emergency, but every good woman loves to have her efforts appreciated, and since the advent of the bevy of pretty young girls in the ranks of female patriotism, they easily became the favorites in public comment and appreciation. Young men and old cheerfully backed the Liberty Girls in every activity they undertook.

The Dorfield Red Cross was a branch of the wonderful national organization; the ”Hoover Conservation Club” was also national in its scope; the ”Navy League Knitting Knot” sent its work to Was.h.i.+ngton headquarters; all were respectfully admired and financially a.s.sisted on occasion. But the ”Liberty Girls of Dorfield” were distinctly local and a credit to the city. Their pretty uniforms were gloriously emblematic, their fresh young faces glowed with enthusiasm, their specialty of ”helping our soldier boys” appealed directly to the hearts of the people. Many a man, cold and unemotional heretofore in his att.i.tude toward the war, was won to a recognition of its menace, its necessities, and his personal duty to his country, by the arguments and example of the Liberty Girls. If there was a spark of manhood in him, he would not allow a young girl to out-do him in patriotism.

Mary Louise gradually added to her ranks, as girl after girl begged to be enrolled in the organization. After consulting the others, it was decided to admit all desirable girls between the ages of 14 and 18, and six companies were formed during the following weeks, each company consisting of twenty girls. The captains were the original six--Alora, Laura, Edna, Lucile, Jane and Mary Louise. Irene Macfarlane was made adjutant and quartermaster, because she was unable to partic.i.p.ate actively in the regimental drills.