CLUE TO THE MISSING
So many and such exciting sequels are divulged through helpless little
letters! How innocently the page of paper carries the silent words, yet
how powerful is the influence to cheer or sadden!
Grace had read her mystic letter, but beyond confiding in Benny, whose
word of honor in secrecy she had exacted, not one single syllable of
that note was to be divulged to any one.
She had hopes that something really wonderful would develop from her
remarkable experience, and while she would have liked to tell Madaline
and Cleo, she feared antagonistic opinions, and, as it was entirely her
own personal secret, and not a matter of girl scout business, or even
chums' interest, it seemed decidedly better to keep her own precious
counsel.
"I'll tell them all when it happens!" she assured herself, by no means
being certain just what she hoped "would happen."
So the mystic letter was tucked away in the tiny, pink silk vanity bag,
which Cleo had given Grace the Christmas before, and in the days
following only her starry eyes threatened to betray the interesting
fact, that the little Tenderfoot harbored a dark, delicious secret.
Meanwhile Rose had taken her place in the Franklin mill and was being
cared for by the benevolent Mrs. Cosgrove as a member of her family.
"It was really providential," Molly told her mother one day at lunch,
after having seen for the second time the parents of Dagmar Brodix,
"for the family had to leave Pennsylvania, and it would have been very
hard for them to take Rose along. It seems Mr. Brodix would not join
the union, and both he and his wife had to be discharged to appease the
labor men. Rose, too, would have been ordered out, as the whole family
come under the ban imposed on the father."
"Poor folks!" deplored Mrs. Cosgrove. "Those unions won't let anybody
think for themselves! Where are they going?"
"Away down east to a big silk mill," replied the daughter. "Mr. Brodix
knew the superintendent in his own country, and got in the shop without
a union card. But it is much better for Rose to stay with us until they
get settled at least."
"I took such a fancy to that child the moment I set eyes on her!" Mrs.
Cosgrove explained to Molly.
"You always do, Mumsey!" laughed the daughter, "but I entirely agree
with you this time. Where is Rose now?"
"Just gone to the post-office. She came in at twelve and finished her
dinner in time for a bit of fresh air before going back. How is she
getting on in her work?"
"First rate, the forelady reports. Rose is naturally quiet, and as you
predict, Mother, it is very important for her to be among new
companions. A girl's pretty face is not always a help to her best
interests."
"Exactly, Molly. Everybody seems to pick on a pretty girl, while they
leave the homely ones to tend their own business. But your dad is much
worried about that other damsel who got away. There is no trace of her
at all."
"Yes, she made a clear escape. I heard one of the mill detectives
making some inquiries. He did not have to question Rose. I gave him our
end of it. I am afraid that other girl has gotten herself into more
trouble. The detective did not say so outright, but I judged so from
his line of questions."
"Your father said as much, but like the detective, our own 'cop' isn't
giving us all the information he holds. I'm glad the mill officials see
the value of the girl scout movement. It's the only fair way to reach
the girls without forcing them. Let them take a hand in their own
interest--I always say."
"The mill men see the wisdom of that. I would not have been engaged as
a welfare worker if I had not been a scout lieutenant. Well, I must run
along. We have a meeting in Flosston tonight, and I am going to take
Rose with me."
"I would. The girls of the troop have never met her to know her, and,
at any rate, their training will check any possible criticism.
Good-bye, girl. Better take your umbrella. We will have rain before
sunset," and with this word mother and daughter separated for their
respective afternoon tasks.
Meanwhile Rose had called at the post-office. Her anxiety concerning
the wayward Tessie constituted the one flaw in her otherwise happy new
days. That she could not at once be with her parents was clear and
reasonable to the girl, reared in hardship, and accustomed to many
personal sacrifices, but that an incriminating letter would surely one
day come from Tessie kept her nervously anxious.
Rose had contrived to visit the post-office daily, hoping when the
dreaded, yet longed-for, letter would come, she might receive it
personally and thus avert possible complications with the Cosgrove
family, who had official reasons for wishing to locate the runaway girl.
With that keenness peculiar to foreigners when a matter vitally
concerns them, the Brodix people had readily adopted the more useful
name Dixon for their daughter, and today, when Rose inquired for mail,
a much-soiled letter addressed to "Rose Dixon, care of Mrs. James
Cosgrove," was handed out.
Not risking the publicity of opening the envelope until she was well
out of sight of observers, Rose hurried along, and turned an
unnecessary corner to seclude herself in a particularly quiet street,
there to open and read the letter. Somehow she felt it would contain
news of Tessie, and her premonition was correct.
"From mother!" she breathed affectionately, as the much handled little
sheet of note paper, with its queer foreign script, lay in her hand.
Then she noticed an inclosure. Yes! There was the note from Tessie!
So anxious was Rose to know where Tessie was, she glimpsed through the
little note without actually reading one word of it. She was just
looking for a clue as to the girl's whereabouts, but to her
disappointment none was given! Not one word showed the capital letter
at its face, that would have marked the name of any place! Tessie wrote
English well enough to make herself understood, and the brief note was
almost explosive in its choice of strong phrases. The "quarter whistle"
blew, announcing to Rose the fact that fifteen minutes of the precious
noon hour still remained, and as ten would be ample time for her to
reach the mill, in the five extra minutes she might read her letters.
Stopping at a little stone wall, which surrounded one of the oldest
houses in Franklin, Rose read first the note from Tessie. As she
expected, the "news" was more a compilation of strong slang than an
attempt to impart any real information, and although but a short time
removed from the acute influence of "chewing-gum English," Rose had
already developed a dislike for the more vulgar of such forms of
utterance. She read:
"Hello, kid! Where are you? Did you break loose from Grandpa? I had
some beatin' to do, but I done it and made a get-a-way good 'nough for
the movies. Don't ask me where I'm at, for it's a secret. But, say,
Kid. Oh, you scout badge! It's a miracle worker--and better than real
coin. I wouldn't give it up for a Liberty Bond. So long! can't tell you
just now what my private post-office box is but will later. My folks
are cross-eyed looking for me, but all they ever wanted was my
pay-envelope, so I should worry about them. Give my love to yourself
and if you're not out of jail yet for the love of molasses, don't be a
simp! Get busy!" It was signed "T. W."
And that was all; so like Tessie. Rose sighed audibly, then read her
mother's letter and while this was really interesting to the daughter
it now seemed tame in comparison, and it really was the letter from
Tessie that gave her blue eyes the preoccupied look all that afternoon.
So the lost and found scout badge was serving the runaway girl as a
passport. Perhaps she was using it for unworthy purposes, and it was
unlawful to wear a scout badge without authority. The offence was
punishable by law. Rose thoroughly understood all this, but how could
she reach Tessie to warn her! Even a dismissed scout must return her
badge and buttons to the organization, and there was Tessie Wartliz
forging her way on the strength of that special merit badge!
Such thoughts as these riveted the attention of Rose, when Molly
Cosgrove, passing through the room, whispered she could go with the
lieutenant to the Flosston meeting that night.
"All right. Thank you!" replied Rose to the invitation, but, somehow,
she dreaded its acceptance.