In spite of his theatrical name, his girlish complexion, and blond hair, Percy was a great favorite with his friends. He had received a spoiling from his doting and indulgent mother that would have turned many another boy into a selfish, vain egoist. But Percy had been saved from this wretched fate partly by his own frank and engaging disposition and partly by association with his three chums, Charlie, Ben, and Merry, wholesome, manly boys, who had never been mollycoddled in their lives.
“Will some one carry this parcel then?” asked Billie, pulling the box of jewels from under the seat, and tearing the wrapping paper off of a corner as she did so.
“I will,” said Merry promptly, taking charge of the box. “Why, it’s rather heavy,” he observed, weighing it in his hand. “It must be full of gold nuggets.”
Billie was silent. She was beginning to be a little superstitious about that box, and she could have wished that the punctured tire and the soda water party, pleasant as was this last diversion, had not interrupted their plan to store the box in Mrs. Price’s safe.
But Billie enjoyed being with girls and boys of her own age so much that she soon forgot her doubts and joined in the gay conversation of the little company.
On Saturday afternoons a crowd of High School boys and girls was always congregated around the soda water fountain in the West Haven Pharmacy, as it was called, and the place was filled with gay talk and laughter, when the Motor Maids and their friends pushed their way up to the marble counter, while Percy, who had more pocket money in a week than some of the others had in a year, paid for the checks.
As luck would have it, Billie and Americus Brown had found places next to Belle Rogers, who, very daintily and delicately, though with some thoroughness, was consuming a maple-nut sundae.
Merry pushed the box onto the counter while he plunged into a glass of chocolate soda water without even noticing that Belle had turned a scornful glance, first at him and then at the much soiled and travel-stained wrapper on the package. Then, suddenly, something very particular claimed her attention. Mary Price, who was standing around the curve of the counter, saw the whole thing and reported it later to the girls. Where Billie had torn the paper, the polished rosewood surface of the box, with its silver mounting, was plainly visible. Belle gave one long, astonished stare of recognition.
“After we leave this package at Mary’s, I invite all of you to take a ride in the motor,” Billie was saying to Merry Brown. “Do you think eight can sit where five are in the habit of sitting?”
“One seat will be big enough for the midgets,”—a nickname given to Mary and Charlie,—Merry answered. “One of us can sit on the floor and the other four can squeeze onto the back seat. The chauffeur is the only person who must have plenty of room.”