"Oh, I am sure he was just joking there," wise little Cleo ventured.
"He just said that to tease you, for teasing him."
"Maybe," replied Grace rather tonelessly.
"Let me see it again," begged Madaline, reaching for the well-fingered little sheet of paper. "But he says," she read, "he liked your courage, and he hated to spoil all your nice scout knots. That must mean he is a good friend."
"Oh, it might just mean the opposite," gloomed Grace, who had read the letter so many times every syllable weighed a clause to her. "He may have meant that merely in sarcasm."
"Who ever do you suppose he was?" asked Madaline foolishly.
"Is, you mean," corrected Grace. "He didn't die, so he still is."
"Of course, that's what I mean. Only he isn't there now, so he was, I think," insisted Madaline, without taking any offence at the crispness of Grace's manner.
"Whether he is or whether he was, we might get along better if we tried to guess who he could possibly be," Cleo assisted. "Have you the least idea?"
"Not the slightest. You see, that sheet of paper came out of a notebook, and anyone could own a notebook or even find one," Grace speculated.
"Let me read the whole letter through?" asked Cleo. "We can't make sense out of single sentences."