"It's poor Miss Betsey!" exclaimed Phil. "I'll wager she is ill or something, she has been acting so queerly all evening." Phil ran to open their door.
"Take me in, children," whispered Miss Betsey, shaking her head. "Sh-sh! Don't make a noise; something so strange has happened. I couldn't wait until morning to tell you."
Miss Betsey dropped into a chair by the window. She was minus her side curls and she had her still jet-black hair screwed up into a tight knot at the back of her head. But in honor of her present frivolous life as one of the houseboat girls she wore a bright red flannelette dressing gown.
Madge looked at Miss Betsey, then choked and began to cough violently to conceal her laughter.
"Don't make that noise, Madge; laugh out-right if you think I am funny," whispered Miss Betsey, instead of giving the little captain the lecture she deserved. "I don't want any one to know I am in here with you. I've got something so strange to show you."
Miss Betsey slipped her hand into the capacious pocket of her dressing gown. She drew out a bright red cotton handkerchief, knotted and tied together into a dirty ball.
"What on earth have you there, Miss Betsey?" asked Phil. "I should be afraid to touch such a dreadful looking handkerchief."
Miss Betsey fingered it gingerly. She seemed to be trying to open it.
Madge picked up a pair of curling tongs and caught the handkerchief by one end. "Do let me throw it out of the window for you, Miss Betsey!" she urged.
Miss Betsey gave a little shriek of protest. But Madge and Phil were staring in Miss Betsey's lap, their eyes wide with amazement. Into the old lady's lap had fallen, from the dirty cotton handkerchief, all her stolen jewelry.