Chapter IX: A Returned Call

Fifteen minutes later as the delivery sleigh turned into the drive of the unpretentious Angel home, Betty Byrd, who sat near the window, declared: “Here come the boys.” Then she uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“What is it, Betty?” the others asked, springing up and crowding about her.

“Girls!” Doris exclaimed tragically. “Something terrible is just about to happen. Alfred Morrison and his sister, Geraldine, are in the sleigh. What shall we do? Of course she will recognize us and more than likely she will be mad as a hornet, and we can’t much blame her if she is.”

The girls were filled with consternation, but before they could form a plan, the front door opened and Bob’s cheery voice called: “Ho, Sis, where are you?” So of course Bertha had to go into the hall and he introduced her to the haughty young damsel. Luckily, Geraldine could not see very clearly, having just come in from the dazzling sunlight.

After laying aside her fur-lined coat, the unexpected guest was led into the library, where six anxious maidens stood about the fireplace. Peggy declared afterwards that she didn’t see how Bertha ever got through the introductions so calmly. She was just sure that she would have called someone Matilda Jane Turnip.

Of course, Geraldine greeted Doris with utmost warmth and sat beside her as she exclaimed: “Oh, Miss Drexel, I had a letter from your cousin Adelaine this morning, and she was so eager to have me meet you. We are next-door neighbors and have been the best of friends for years. I wonder why I never met you before.”

“Probably because my mother is an invalid and we have been in California and Florida so much of the time. I am ever so glad to know a friend of Adelaine’s. She is the dearest girl, isn’t she?”

The two were seated apart by themselves and Doris dreaded the moment when their visitor should recognize them as the seven who had called upon her in milkmaid garb the day before. Once she did look very steadily at Peggy, and Doris, noticing this, hurriedly asked some question about her city cousin, hoping to keep the guest’s thoughts in safe channels.

At last Alfred arose, saying: “Well, Sister, if we are to visit the post office and then walk home before dark, we would better be going.”

“Wait just one moment,” Bertha urged. “Bob has gone out to hitch up our two-seated sleigh. Oh, here he comes now.”

A comfortable, roomy sleigh appeared and Jack said: “Miss Geraldine, may I accompany you? Alfred and Bob may have the driver’s seat?”

The girl smilingly consented and then bade each of the maidens a gracious farewell. When the sleigh with its jingling bells and prancing horses was out of sight, the girls sank down on their chairs and one and all uttered some exclamation. Then Merry Lee said: “The question before the house is, did she recognize us?”

“I don’t see how she could help recognizing Rose,” Peggy said, to tease. “She looks very much as she did as Jerusy.”

That pretty maiden took the teasing good-naturedly, then tongues and needles flew, until half an hour later when the boys returned. They were laughing merrily when they entered the room and bent over the burning log to warm their hands. The girls looked up from their sewing and Peggy asked eagerly: “Tell us the worst! Did Geraldine recognize us?”

“Yes, she did,” Bob declared. “She told Jack that she knew Peggy at once. She decided, however, that it had been a good lesson for her and she wished Jack to thank you all for having taught her that people may live in the country and not be backwoodsy or rubes.”

“Well, I’m glad she forgives us!” Bertha declared. Then, when the boys had again departed, she added: “But now, to return to the subject we were discussing when we were interrupted. Peggy, have you and Doris found a mystery yet for the Seven Sleuths to unravel?”

“Nary a mystery,” Doris confessed, “but it isn’t Saturday yet. You remember we were to have a week.”

“There might be some kind of a mystery connected with that old Welsley house out on the lake road. If ever a place looked haunted, that one surely does.”

“Righto, my dear little Betty, but ghosts and mysteries are two different things. Some unhappy old man shot himself in that dismal farmhouse and nobody ever wanted to live there after that; and so it has just fallen to pieces. But everybody knew the old man and just why he was so sad and discouraged, and so there isn’t any mystery to it at all, at all.”

“Where did the boys go?” Bertha looked up suspiciously. “Heavens, I hope they aren’t anywhere around. They might overhear us talking about mysteries and then our new name wouldn’t be secret any more.”

“They drove out of the yard; I saw them,” Betty, still near the window, remarked.

“Jack had a book. Probably that one of Conan Doyle. Perhaps they’re going to return it.”

Suddenly Bertha dropped her sewing and her eyes were bright “Say, girls, we’ve wondered a million times where the boys hold their secret meetings, but never once did we even suspect that it _might_ be in that dreadful old Welsley place.”

“Bertha Angel, I believe you’re right. No one would ever interrupt them _there_.” Peg shuddered.

“And what better meeting-place for a boys’ detective club than an old ruin haunted by a ghost that had committed suicide!” Doris commented.

“Well,” Merry sighed, “we’re not likely to find out, since our dear parents will not permit us to prowl around at night unless the boys are along to protect us.”

Then Peggy had an idea. “Girls,” she exclaimed, “we ought to have some kind of a party for Geraldine and Alfred. Let’s have a moonlight skating party and a sleigh ride combined, and when we’re out that way, let’s suggest visiting the old ruin. If the boys refuse, we will know that they don’t want us to see what they have in there. If they agree to the plan, then we will know that is _not_ where they hold their secret meetings.”

“Bright idea!”

“That will be a jolly lark!”

“Hope the haughty Geraldine knows how to skate.”

“Ssh! Here come the boys to take us home. We mustn’t let them suspect our deep-laid plans. We’re some sleuths all right, I’ll say.”

When the two boys entered the room they found the girls, except the hostess, warmly wrapped and ready to be taken to their homes.

“Isn’t the sunset going to be wonderful this evening?” Merry, in the open door, called over her shoulder. Then to the boys: “When is our next full moon? We girls thought we’d have our annual skating and sleigh ride party then, and invite the newcomers.”

“Great!” Jack cried. “It ought to be soon. What say, Bob?”

“Sure thing!” that ruddy-cheeked lad agreed. Then to the girl he was assisting into the sleigh, he said in a low voice: “Rosie, may I have the first skate and the last, and all in between?”

“No whispering allowed,” Merry warned as they climbed in, the girls sitting two and three deep.

The blizzard had disappeared as completely as though it never had been, but the high snowbanks that lined the road and reached to the window sills of the houses remained to testify that it had been “some storm,” as Bob said.

“Well, we sure have it to thank for a week of good times instead of school,” Merry declared. “I hope Miss Preen and Professor Lowsley enjoyed being snowed in together.”

Much laughter greeted this remark, but Gertrude said rebukingly: “I think it’s shabby of us to make fun of those two. Of course they _are_ sort of queer looking outside, but in their hearts and souls they may be just like the rest of us.”

“Trudie, dear, it wouldn’t take a detective to know that _you_ are a minister’s daughter,” Merry remarked, then, as the sleigh was stopping in front of her home, she added: “Now, everybody decide what to take to the skating party. We’ll find out about the moon and make our final plans tomorrow. All of you come over to my house. Tra-la. Good night!”