“No! When?”
“She didn’t say. Just mentioned it casually.”
“Trix, do you think we should have told Jack anything? Prepared her, I mean?”
“Land sakes, no! Let the climax take care of itself,” moaned Trixy.
Which was really all the preparation either of the girls had for the same climax which came upon them three days later, just when the programme was being checked off for the Thanksgiving week-end.
“She’s come!” breathed Gloria, and Trixy knew she meant—Jack’s Steppy. A premonitory fluttering betrayed Gloria’s high hopes.
“Yes, I know,” admitted Trixy, “and Jack just sent Pat down to ask us in. Poor Pat looked left out.”
In Jack’s room they encountered the full blown Steppy, garbed, this time, in chrysanthemum golden brown, with a glorious plumy hat caressing her faithful sunset, golden hair. Her smile might also be termed golden, for it lighted up her big shadowy eyes, and flashed through every hidden line of her determined face.
She laughed outright as the girls greeted her, after Trixy’s brief introduction. The burst of emotions was more graphic than words could have been. It was dramatically with a touch of comic:
“The mystery is solved!”