“You’re the most famous girl detective in the world!” shouted Norman Wilder.
“You were a lemon to duck my party, but I’ll give another one just in your honor,” promised Jane.
“Did you get your salary—your twenty-five bucks?” asked Freckles.
Mary Louise nodded, smiling, to everything. Then she got into Max’s car beside him, with Jane and Norman in the rumble seat. Mr. Gay took the wheel of his sedan, with his wife beside him; Margaret Detweiler, who was quietly watching everything, sat behind with Freckles.
The drivers of the two cars did not stop for any food on the way; they sped along as fast as they dared towards Riverside. Old Mr. and Mrs. Detweiler were waiting up for their precious granddaughter, their lost Margaret.
A little before midnight the cars pulled up in front of the old couple’s home, and everybody in the party went inside for a moment. The greeting between Margaret and her grandparents was touching to see. Even Norman Wilder, who prided himself on being “hard-boiled,” admitted afterwards that the tears came to his eyes.
Mrs. Gay discreetly drew her own party away, back to her home, where a feast was waiting for the travelers. This, Mary Louise felt, was her real Christmas celebration—with her family and her three dearest friends. Now she could tell her story and listen to the praises which meant so much to her.
“But the best part of it all,” she concluded, “is that I’m a real professional detective at last!”