"Now, I've got some good news, after all the old mildewed stuff," said Captain Dave. "You have been wanting to see our men at drill. What would you say to coming down some morning soon—and—and——Wonder would I be spilling the beans if I told you a secret?" he broke off.
"Trust us to pick them up carefully if you do, Captain," volunteered Cleo.
"Well, here's the news," and he sank lower in his chair, dropped his head deeper on his shoulders, and seemed to assume the most secretive and confidential air. "Listen," he commanded. "The Boy Scouts are to have a wig wag trial. They may have been a little mite jealous of your reputation, or something like that, anyhow, they've fixed it up to do a grand stand stunt, and they've enlisted the Beach Patrol——"
"But we have been begging for that all summer," interrupted Grace immediately on the offensive.
"I recall that, and it's why I am spilling the beans. Why can't you all join in?"
"With the Boy Scouts?" It was Louise who spoke.
"Certainly," Margaret hurried to say. "Why not? They will enter us if we send an application. Oh, goody-good! Louise run right home with the tin box, lock it in the safe and come have a troop meeting," sang out Margaret.
"Don't have to say where you heard the news, do you?" asked the captain with a chuckle.
"Certainly not," declared Cleo. "Besides, we know exactly where we can verify it. Come on, girls. Let's interview the clerk at the landing soda fountain. You remember he told us he was a scout."
They all remembered, and ran thither forewith, as Grace would say.