“He still is,” consoled Josie, “and now it can be ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ as my father used to say. This thing broke just in time to save that poor boy from becoming a confirmed criminal. As it is, I bet anything he’ll pull through and come out of that school a good fellow and a useful citizen. He is interested in the stage and I hope he’ll do something big in the dramatic line some day. The way he acted Miss Fauntleroy was little short of genius.”
“Perhaps he’ll come out all right,” said Mrs. Leslie, “but I have my doubts about foreigners. Anyhow I am glad we took you to board, Josie, because it has made life much more interesting. Just to think of Mr. Burnett’s writing me a letter of thanks for the part I took in helping to catch that woman! Of course I appreciate the handsome check he sent me and the fur jacket he sent Mary, but I think more of the letter than I do of the check and the jacket. After all, the detective tales I have read did something for me, if only to make me keep my eyes open for mix-ups.”
Major Simpson decided after due consideration to accept Burnett & Burnett’s offer of a pension and he determined to retire from the active labors of a detective.
“Of course this is a good time to retire, while I am yet in the hey-dey of my powers,” he was heard to say to Miss Willie at Maison Blanche. Mrs. Trescott was the person who heard him say it and it was with difficulty that she controlled her merriment. “I have just been the means of tracking down for my firm a family of desperate criminals and—er—er—out of gratitude to me the Burnett Brothers have offered to pension me on—er—er—full pay.”
“How wonderful!” trilled Miss Willie. “But you will remain in Wakely, surely?”
“Ah, yes! In fact I should not like to go far from Burnett & Burnett’s because they may need my advice at any moment. My advice—er—er—is most important.”
Josie had made many friends at Burnett & Burnett’s, and they were one and all very sorry that she was leaving the notion counter and Wakely.
“We felt all the time that you were a little different,” Jane Morton told her. “Min and I used to talk about it, but we just thought you had picked up more education than we had and that was what made you different. If we had ever known that you were a detective we might have been a little shy. But we have learned that a woman detective may also be a human being. As for that ‘Miss Fauntleroy,’ my blood boils when I think of her—him. Anyhow we never did have much to do with him because we always mistrusted her—er—him. She never did seem natural and now since she has turned out to be a boy, I see the reason. One thing to his credit, he was a gentleman, even when masquerading as a girl, and never tried to get chummy with us. I feel a little sorry for him and hope he will turn out all right.”
That night Josie accepted Mr. Theodore Burnett’s insistent invitation to take dinner at his home. There was no longer any good reason for refusal, though in truth she sought no such reason.
Never was there a gayer, livelier party. Mr. Burnett’s sisters, May and Lily, vied with one another in little acts of gracious hospitality, and the aged mother, austerely garbed in a voluminous black dress, gave the lie to her years and her garb as fires kindled in her deep set eyes at the retelling of the capture of the shoplifters. Mr. Theodore was high in his praise and colorful in his narration.