“Think—why, you poor dear child, I know you are a thief—at least a shoplifter,” blurted out Mrs. Leslie. “Major Simpson has been keeping his eye on you for weeks and weeks and he has at last rounded you up. Oh, why do we stand here and talk? You must be leaving before he gets here. I have telephoned him that you have come back.”
“Ah—then I am the watermelons,” laughed Josie.
“Yes, I meant lemons but I got so mixed because I was excited. I knew it was something people take to picnics and watermelons are good to take although they are only the shipped Georgia melons we get for the Fourth of July. All the time it was lemonade I was thinking about. Anyhow watermelons was nearer to it than sandwiches would have been. I know you think I am crazy but I’m not.”
“No, I know very well you are exceedingly sane,” said Josie gently. “You are simply overwrought and are thinking aloud. But now tell me what it is. You mean you have telephoned Major Simpson that I have come back and he will be along soon with the handcuffs?”
“Oh-h-h! Not that!”
“Perhaps not,” smiled Josie, “but I think you had better let me make a clean breast of the whole affair and then we will decide what is to be done. In the first place, I am not a shop girl at all—”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Mrs. Leslie said to Mary.
“Please don’t interrupt, Mother,” begged Mary.
“But I am a detective brought here from Dorfield by Burnett & Burnett to find out who has been shoplifting so successfully,” Josie continued.
“Another detective!” gasped Mrs. Leslie.