"There are Children's Aids, Travellers' Aids and all sorts of legal aids for just such purposes," said Margaret, "and if we bring anything confidential to the secretary at our headquarters, you may rest assured it will be placed where it belongs."
"Now, isn't that fine!" exclaimed the old sailor. "But you are not goin' up to the city soon, I take it, and I've just got a notion I'd like them papers put in safer quarters. No tellin' when I may be transferred, and then I wouldn't have time to think of the little tin box. Could one of you take it now, and put it in your family safe?" he asked.
The girls looked at one another speculatively. No one was personally anxious to assume such a responsibility.
"Louise, your daddy is a lawyer. He would know all about a thing like that. You take it?" urged Margaret.
After some discussion Louise finally agreed to accept the charge and old Dave shuffled over to his cupboard, procured a rusty tin box, and placed it in the scout's hand.
"There," he said with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to get rid of that. It was like the little bundle of letters tied with blue ribbon, that we read about in love stories—not much to the world, but a lot to the right girl," he orated.
Louise looked at the box almost reverently. Just as Dave had said "not much to the world but a lot to the right girl," she thought.
"All right, Captain," she said bravely. "I am sure, simple as this is it does mean something, and as you say, Kitty is not yet wise enough to appreciate her mother's letters. So I accept the charge, and you may call upon me to report at any time you choose."
"Now, if I'm sent over to the Hook, I won't have to move quite so much," said Dave with something like a chuckle, for the box was a very small article to worry about in event of an ordinary moving. "Also," he continued, "I'll feel Kitty is in good hands with this sort of—well, sort of claim on your friendship," he stammered. "You see, how wise I am, to link you together this way?"
It had been rather a serious half hour, and the True Treds were not prone to stay concentrated for any prolonged length of time. As it was, Isabel had been counting the blocks in the faded red table cover, and Helen was drawing pictures with a burnt match on the back of a marine magazine.