At the next regular meeting of the Lookouts, held at Harriet’s home, the members of that worthy organization received the surprise of their young lives. Deep in anxious conference regarding the ways and means of raising money to meet their steadily-mounting expenses, they were startled by a loud ringing of the doorbell that caused each mind to revert to another occasion when precisely the same thing had happened.
It was Muriel herself who answered the door. When she reappeared among her companions her pretty face wore a somewhat dazed expression. In one hand she bore an oblong package, the outlines of which suggested a book.
“Girls,” she said in an awed voice, “the unbelievable has come to pass. Someone please take this package and open it. I’m simply flabbergasted.” Marjorie, springing from her chair to relieve Muriel of it, the latter dropped down on the davenport with a half-hysterical chuckle.
“Oh!” Marjorie uttered a faint cry, as the concealing wrapping torn away, the contents of the package burst upon her amazed eyes. Her exclamation was echoed in concert by the eager on-lookers. Clutched firmly in Marjorie’s hands, they beheld a familiar black-covered book that had long been missing. On top of it was a neat pile of bank notes held together by an elastic band. Crowning the notes was a small, gray envelope.
“What—why—it’s our money!” almost shouted Daisy Griggs.
A confused outcry followed her loud exclamation as each girl attempted an individual remark.
“Open the envelope! Hurry, Marjorie! I wonder what made her send it back! It’s a miracle!”
All this was directed to Marjorie, as she obediently ripped open the envelope. Exploring it for a note, a shower of small change fell from it to the floor. Stooping, she hastily gathered it together. “There is nothing else in the envelope,” she said, her lips curving in a whimsical smile. “Susan, you are no longer a treasureless treasurer. Please assume the duties of your office and count this money. As for me, I can’t really make it seem true.” Turning the money over to Susan, Marjorie dropped into a nearby chair, a prey to mingled emotions.
“What do you suppose happened to Mignon to make her send——” began Muriel wonderingly. A second peal of the doorbell sent her speeding again to the door, her question half-asked. A moment and the alert listeners heard her voice raised in a little ecstatic cry of “Jerry!”
Hearing it, the Lookouts made for the wide doorway of the living room in a body. On the threshold their rush was checked. Her arm about Muriel’s waist, Jerry Macy stood surveying them, her round face wreathed in smiles.