“Something like that,” Marjorie agreed with a smile. “The letter was sent to me in the first place, but the credit of the discovery that Miss Walker didn’t write it belongs to you.”
“I’m not likely to pick any bouquets in such a briar patch,” shrugged Jerry. “Don’t want em. More likely she’ll get wrathful at us when she finds, we have kept the forged letter so long without going to her and having matters out. But Jeremiah is not afraid. Let us hope she behaves like the letter she really wrote.”
In the act of removing one of her slippers, Jerry took it by the strap. Waving it jauntily she launched into a Bean jingle.
“Upon the haughty soph we’ll call
To clear her tarnished name;
For we have seen, O, noble Bean,
That she was not to blame.”
“That was an inspired jingle, Jeremiah,” Marjorie approved, her face singularly sunny. “Miss Walker is not to blame. Since we know she isn’t, we should be, if we didn’t hurry to tell her so.”