“What made him think that? Why, it’s a pale blue—it matches—what made you think that?” she demanded of Harry.
“On account of the smelling salts,” said Gordon.
She opened the bag and closed it hastily. “I think you’re just horrid!” she said, looking at Harry. But she did not think he was horrid. Quite otherwise.
“You see,” explained Harry, “I had to open it to see if it contained a name or address.”
“Of course,” she said, “but it was just horrid to think I was an old maid! Do you always finds things out about people that way—what is it?”
“Deduction,” Gordon spoke up. “All scouts have to learn to decide things that way—it’s dandy fun.”
“I think it’s horrid. I suppose you’re just finding things out about me now. It makes me creepy! But you’re very kind,” she promptly added. “Tell me, honest and true, what are you deducing about me now?”
“Well,” said Harry, “I deduce that you’ve been writing a letter and underlining lots of words.”
She opened her mouth in astonishment. “You’re a perfect ghoul!” said she. “But I haven’t even asked you to sit down yet. Won’t you come over here and rest?” She led the way to the little well-house by the roadside, giving Gordon an opportunity to whisper to Harry:
“Now, you see, Harry—if you only had your uniform on! Did you see how she looked at me? It wasn’t I she cared about, Harry—it was the scout uniform. The scout suit catches them every time. I know more about those things than you do, Harry, because I’ve had more experience. Now you’ve learned a lesson.”