of paper.
"For goodness sake!" cried Sheila, almost frightened. She smoothed them
out; except for a slightly mouldy smell they were in good condition and
the writing upon them could be easily read.
They were the lost formulas!
"_Mother! Mother! Mother!_" With one bound Sheila was in the house
confronting her mother who had come up from the cellar, panting with
alarm.
"_Paddy's found 'em! Paddy's found 'em!_" And she threw her arms about
her mother's neck in a hug that swept the two of them straight into the
big rocker!
"Sheila Quinn, are you _loony_? What _have_ you got? And _do_ stop
that dog's barking!"
"Oh, mumsey, it's the lost formulas--they were buried in the tulip bed!
_That's_ what Paddy's been digging for--all this time!"
The two spread the papers out on the table and read them over and over.
"Don't they sound _dreadful_! Just's if they'd explode all by
themselves!" whispered Sheila, recalling what Mr. Everett had said about
the formulas.
So giving Paddy a warm hug by way of tribute Sheila put the formulas
back in the tin tube and started forth to find Mr. Everett, to tell him
the whole story. All through the winter the loss of the formulas had
worried Mr. Everett. His experts had been working over the experiments
again and in time would, of course, have made new formulas; it was the
fear, however, that some other government already possessed the secret
that had troubled, not only the officials of the Everett Works, but the
United States government as well. So that when Sheila, with Aunt Pen,
Pat and Renee, burst into the office with the wonderful news, Mr.
Everett felt as though a great load was rolling off his shoulders!
A curious gathering inspected the dirty tube and listened to the story;
Mr. Everett and his staff, some secret service men, two chemists from
the experimental laboratory, in their long white coats, some workmen who
were passing the door and had been attracted by the exclamations--and
the girls. Mr. Everett questioned Sheila closely. She recalled that
Paddy had--all winter long--barked a great deal at night, so much so
that after awhile the family grew accustomed to it and did not notice
it.
"Marx buried it--intending to go later and dig it up! The man was smart
enough to know that if they'd been found on his possession nothing could
have saved him. It was a lucky thing they kept him locked up so long!
Your dog has done good work, Miss Sheila!"
Mr. Everett then, turning the tube over and over in his hands, said to
one of the others in a low tone:
"After all--perhaps the best service we could do for our country and the
world would be to bury it again--where it would lie forever and ever!"
That night, for the second time, Mr. Everett, with Pat, came to the
Quinn kitchen. But this time he was accompanied by Aunt Pen and Renee,
too. They made a very loud noise at the doorstep, as though dragging to
the door some heavy object. Mr. Everett insisted that the three small
Quinns must stay up and to make it certain drew little Dare to his knee.
"We're going to have a regular ceremony," declared Pat so solemnly that
Mrs. Quinn nervously fell to lighting more gas jets and Sheila sent Matt
off to the sink to wash the jam from his face.
"We must decorate Mr. Paddy Quinn for distinguished service," Pat
finished. So the boys with shouts dragged Paddy from his basket--for
Paddy believed in an early bed-hour--and set him in the centre of the
merry circle. Thereupon Mr. Everett produced a handsome collar
decorated with a red, white and blue bow and allowed Dare to fasten it
about the shaggy neck. Everyone laughed at the comical picture Paddy
made in his gay decoration! Then a knock came at the door and in trooped
Peggy and Keineth, trying to look as though they had not known what had
been happening!
Mr. Everett rose with much seriousness. "And now that everyone is here
I want to present _another_ badge of honor, that has been left in my
keeping!" Sheila guessed what was coming! She threw one wildly happy
look toward her mother and then stood quite still, blushing. Mr.
Everett drew from his pocket the flat tissue-paper package, unwrapped
it, and held up the badge of the Golden Eaglet.
"It gives me profound pleasure to return this to Miss Sheila Quinn! May
she always keep and give to others, too, her sense of a true scout's
honor! It is one of the strongest weapons we can carry!"
His voice was so earnest and the eyes he fixed on Sheila so full of
sincere respect and admiration that the laughter in the room suddenly
died. As Pat said afterwards: "It was just as though Sheila was a
knight and was starting out on some crusade!" And Mrs. Quinn, who knew
something of the weapons one needed to fight the battles of life, choked
down a catch in her throat and Aunt Pen whispered something under her
breath with a look that was like a caress for Sheila!
Then the girls opened the door and revealed a tub of ice cream on the
threshold; while two of them were lifting it out of the ice Pat brought
in and opened a big box full of dewy-wet pink roses.
Keineth went to the piano and played so that "the fairies danced," and
then everyone sang--Dare, holding tightly to one of Mr. Everett's hands,
almost splitting his throat in his effort to express his joy!
"_Such_ an evening!" said Mrs. Quinn as she closed the door behind the
last guest. "And who'd have ever thought of it at six o'clock and you,
Matty, with your elbow out of your sleeve! Well, well, I guess _those_
good folks don't mind a thing like that!"
"_Mother--look!_" Sheila had gone to the roses and had leaned over them
to whisper good-night into the fragrant petals. And there, hidden among
the leaves, she had found a small envelope addressed to "Miss Sheila
Quinn."
She opened it quickly. "Oh, _Mumsey_!" she cried. For before her
amazed eyes she unfolded a check for two hundred dollars!
And with it was just one short line.
"As a small token of appreciation for Paddy's services I present this to
his mistress, begging her to do with it whatever she wants most in the
world."
"Mumsey--the music!" Sheila ran to the piano, which had been scarcely
touched during the long winter. With ecstatic fingers she ran up and
down the scale.
And Mrs. Quinn, watching her girl with happy, misty eyes, seeing in the
young face a look of the father who had gone on, and the glow of the
rosy dreams she had used to dream in her own girlhood, thought it the
most beautiful music in the world!
*CHAPTER XIX*
*A LETTER FROM FRANCE*
"A letter for you, Miss Renee!" and Jasper laid down at Renee's elbow a
square, bluish envelope with a foreign postmark.
From time to time Renee and Mr. Everett had received cards from Renee's
guardian--but this was a fat envelope! Aunt Pen reached eagerly for it
and turned it over and over in her fingers. Whereupon Pat nodded to
Renee, as much as to say: "The plot thickens! The mystery clears!"
"What fun to have it come on a nasty, rainy day like this!" she declared
aloud. "Let's take it to the Eyrie and read it very slowly so's to make
it last a _long_ time!"
"Renee may want to read her own letter by herself, Pat," laughed Aunt
Pen, looking as happy as though the letter had come straight to her.
"Oh, _no_, please! Let's do what Pat says! And _you_ read it, aloud,
Aunt Pen!"
So the fat envelope was carried to the Eyrie and Aunt Pen sat down in
the one sound chair while Pat and Renee stretched out on the floor at
her feet. And as Aunt Pen began to read no one minded the rain beating
in torrents against the Eyrie windows!
"My dear little girl and all her good friends, the Everetts," the letter
began. "Because I am confined by an inconsiderate doctor to a very
small bed in a very big room in what, in the sixteenth century, used to
be a monastery and is now one of the best of the American base
hospitals--though I wish the window was bigger so it could let in a
little more sunshine to warm these ancient walls--I have time at last to
write to you a real letter. Since I returned from God's country I have
been continually on the jump. I got back to the boys just in time to
fire one last shot at the Jerrys, though it was a waste of good honest
steel, for they were running faster than even a bullet could go. After
the armistice they sent us almost directly up to the Rhine. Somehow,
now that I've got the time to write, and a fairly good pen, I can't seem
to find the words that will describe to you just how we men felt when we
knew we were there--at the old Rhine--the way we'd talked and sung about
back in the training camp. Things were not tedious--not for a
moment--and we were as busy as ever and constantly on the alert that
Jerry didn't slip anything over us. And then just when I was getting
used to the eternal rain and mud and the Germanness of everything--and
good honest, sheets, too, on a regular old grandmother's feather bed--I
was ordered back with a detachment to Le Mans.
"And now, Renee, I must tell you a little story. It is about a poor
French soldier I found in one of the many small villages not far from
Valenciennes. We were going back in lorries, one had broken down and
that held us up for a couple of hours. Some of us were prowling around
for souvenirs. (By the way I am sending a German helmet to you by mail.
Turn it upside down, fill it with earth and plant flowers in it--that'll
redeem it.) To go back to my story--I happened upon a very old man
digging in a strip of a back yard that looked the way one of our streets
home look when they're paving it and putting sewers through--it was back
of what had been a cottage only the roof and two of the walls were gone.
I asked him for a drink and he took me to the one room that was whole to
give me some of the wine which--he told me proudly--he had hidden months
before, and there I found his very old wife and a young French soldier.
The Frenchman would not talk to me at all, just stared and shrank away
as though he was frightened. I shall never forget how the poor fellow
looked, a bag of bones, hollowed eyes that burned in his white face and
an empty sleeve. The old man told me the boy's story, then, and with
the knowledge of French I have picked up I was able to put it together.
He had been released from a German prison, he had had to walk back with
other French prisoners, but because he had had his arm amputated in the
prison and had had a long run of fever and was half starved he had not
been able to keep up with the others and had dropped behind. The old
peasant had found him lying by the road, raving in delirium. There had
been a nasty wound on his forehead, too, as though back in the prison
camp some Jerry had struck him over the head. The old couple had taken
him in and for weeks and weeks had nursed him as best they could,
keeping him alive with their precious wine. His fever had gone, the
wound had healed, his strength had begun to slowly return, but he could
not remember one single thing of what had happened nor tell who he
was--that blow had wiped everything out of his mind! He was like a
little child. But the shock of seeing me started something working in
his brain; he stared and stared, after a little he got up his courage to
feel of my face and of my uniform--and then of his own uniform--or the
rags and tatters of what had been a good French uniform, and I think at
that moment blessed memory began to return!
"To make a long story short I just took him along on the lorry to Paris
and put him in a hospital there under expert care and now he's as sane
as he ever was and says he can remember the German doctor who struck him
and wants to go back and find him! But I told him that a higher Justice
was going to settle all those scores and that he was going back to
America with me--when I go. That is why I am telling you the story; I
know your kind little heart that is part French will find pity and
affection for this poor fellow who has suffered so much that little
girls like you might go on living happy safe lives in a good world, and
you will be kind to him when I bring him home with me.
"Home--Renee, it seems so funny for me to think of a home! I used to
dream of having one but I have found out some dreams don't come true,
and since then I've just wandered from one country to another building
bridges and railroads and such things. But I feel tired now and I think
when I go back I'll fix over an old house I own in a little town up in
the Adirondack mountains, and we'll go there and we'll be happy, or at
least I promise I'll see that you are happy. And we'll keep the French
soldier I've adopted as long as he will stay, won't we?
"When I was in Paris I went down and spent a whole day with Susette and
Gabriel. They are well, Gabriel's rheumatism is better, and he declares
it is the slippers you sent him--he wears them all the time. They are
happy getting their garden ready, and the florists in Paris are placing
more orders for violets than before the war. Prosperity shines in every
wrinkle in Susette's face. She pointed out to me where she has hung the
Stars and Stripes alongside of the Tri-color and told me that I must
tell you. Your picture was in a place of honor on the shelf under the
Madonna and there was over it a tiny wreath of waxed snowdrops which
Susette says she made herself. I looked at the picture and I said to
myself: 'Bill Allan, that big girl with the very nice eyes is your ward,
given into your care by the bravest lad you ever knew--see that you live
up to the charge with the best that's in you!' That was the vow I made
in front of your picture, Renee.
"Some day when we've saved enough money we'll go back and visit Susette.
But she's happy, Renee--the way we're all happy over here--the fighting
is over!
"You and I can never thank the Everetts for all they have done for us.
I bless the Fate that brought that very lively Miss Pat into the Red
Cross office for I'll admit right at that moment I didn't know what to
do with you! I think that in a few weeks I'll be sent back to America
and then I will try to tell them how grateful we are..."
The letter concluded with a brief description of the hospital and its
beautiful, cloistered grounds where, long before, monks had found rest
from the world's strife. But not one of the three listened; Aunt Pen's
thoughts, even while her lips went on framing the words of the letter,
were back, repeating over and over--"I used to dream of having a home
but I found out some dreams can't come true!" and, as she finished and
folded the letter, her eyes, staring out over the wet housetops, saw
vividly again the college campus and the old stone bench under a
spreading elm where she and another had talked about that very house in
the Adirondacks!
"It _is_ my Will!" she murmured almost aloud. But for once Pat was too
concerned with her own worry to notice her Aunt Pen's absorption!
"I think it's just _mean_ in him to say he's coming over here and take
Renee away to some old place--we _won't_ let her go!" she exploded.
A little dread of this same thing was disturbing Renee! Though she had
in the long trip across the sea learned to respect and trust her new
guardian, and, because Emile had placed her under his care, would always
feel a strong loyalty for him, she shrank a little from the thought of
leaving these kind friends and going to a strange home. Aunt Pen,
coming with an effort back from her own dreams, read what was passing in
both Pat's and Renee's minds.
"Let's not worry, girlies! I know everything is going to turn out just
the way that will make everyone happy--when Capt. Allan returns!"
Now Pat suddenly grew suspicious!
"You speak _just as though_ you knew something we didn't know, Penelope
Everett! What _is_ it? _Did_ you know Renee's guardian before? You've
_got_ to tell us every thing!" And Pat, a vision in her mind of romance
and mystery unfolded at last, knelt before Aunt Pen and rested her
elbows upon Aunt Pen's knees with an air that said: "I'm ready now to
hear the whole story!"
But Aunt Pen's face, rosy red, did not suggest the secret sorrow that
Pat had liked to imagine! She laughingly pushed Pat away.
"What an old teaser you are! Yes, this _is_ the same Will Allan I knew!
He used to tell me, sometimes, of the old house in the mountains which
an aunt had left him. Then he went to South America to build a bridge
or something! There's nothing more to tell!"
Pat was visibly disappointed.
"Well, anyway, will you promise to keep him from separating Ren and me?"
she begged.
Aunt Pen slipped the letter back into its envelope.
"I'll promise to do my best to keep him from--separating you--very far!
If he remembers me," she added with sudden alarm! Such a thought had
not occurred to her! Now it brought a tiny droop in the corner of her
lips. "Anyway, Pat, much as we love Renee we must not forget that Capt.
Allan has the first claim, though I am sure he will be anxious to do
whatever will make her the most happy! He may let Renee decide."
"Oh, that would be _dreadful_!" cried Renee.
But the thought satisfied Pat. She stood up with sudden resolution.
"Well, then, _I'm_ going to begin right now teasing Renee _every minute_
to choose us! I'm glad the letter came! Everything was so dull and now
it's exciting again! And that poor Frenchman--let's go over to Peggy's,
Ren, and tell her all about him! As if we minded rain, anyway!"
*CHAPTER XX*
*THE LOST BABY*
"Ren, you look as though you'd stepped out of a picture book!"
Renee did, indeed! With odds and ends from the scrap-bag and the
store-room upstairs she and Pat had put together an Alsatian costume.
Pat, perched cross-legged in the middle of the bed with a book on
Historical Costumes stretched across her knees, proclaimed her
satisfaction with their handiwork while Renee turned and turned before
the long mirror, stopping to spread out the full short skirt or perk up
the enormous bow that adorned her head.
Keineth Randolph was going to give a party. It was to be a costume
party; there was to be dancing as well as games; all the boys and girls
of the Randolph's acquaintance had been invited. They always loved to
go to the Randolph's home; the house, though small, seemed to have been
built for the sole purpose of giving young people room for a good time;
John Randolph, himself, could be as young as the youngest and Keineth,
always good-humored, was a hospitable little hostess. Add real
musicians, tucked off on the landing of the stair, a table in the corner
of the dining-room laden with goodies dear to young folks, witches and
goblins, lords and ladies of past kingdoms, monks, fairies, clowns and
elves to make merry--well, "it will be one grand party!" Pat had
declared.
She herself had been torn in mind as to what she wanted to be. She
pictured herself as Jeanne d'Arc, glorious in silver armor and lance in
hand; she considered Mary, Queen of Scots; then her romantic fancy
favored Cinderella! But learning from Peggy that Garrett was going as
the brave Powhatan, the Indian Chief, she promptly decided to tease
Garrett by appearing as Pocahontas! Aunt Pen was shopping at that very
moment trying to find the gayest feather duster in the city with which
to decorate her.
"Pat, I'll wear my locket!" cried Renee, turning from the mirror.
She ran to her drawer as she spoke and drew from it the little case.
Pat watched her approvingly as she fastened the bright red band about
her throat. It added a piquant spot of color to the quaint costume and
the curious old locket looked as though it might have been fashioned by
some old artisan for a royal lady in the days when feudal lords reigned
over France!
"It's _perfect_!" Pat gave a leap over the low footboard of her bed to
examine more closely Renee's entire appearance.
"You're going to be the best thing there," she declared conclusively.
"I know everyone will be crazy over you! _Won't_ it be fun? I can't
wait until Thursday comes! Only then it'll be over so soon!" And Pat
sighed deeply, as millions of others have sighed over the rapid flight
of time!
Maggie tapped at the door.
"There's a queer old woman downstairs a-asking for you, Miss Renee!"
"For me?" Renee turned, startled. Then a sudden thought enlightened
her. "It must be Elsbeth!"
She ran quickly down the stairs to the door followed by Pat. It was
Elsbeth, the queer old servant who lived with Mrs. Forrester. At sight
of Renee she turned a face white with distress.
"Oh, Miss Renny, Miss Renny, she's took again! Mis' Lee sent me to fetch
you! You must come!"
"What do you mean, Elsbeth--Mrs. Forrester? I'll go with you at once!"
"I think that's _mean_, Renee! We were going to plan my costume--you
_know_ it!" protested Pat.
"Oh, _Pat_!" Renee's voice pleaded from the depths of the hall closet
where she was hunting for her warm coat. "Oh, Pat--you wouldn't want me
not to go! The poor thing!"
Pat was a little ashamed; however she did not want to show it--she cast
an accusing look at old Elsbeth as though she was to blame.
"Well, I don't believe I'd leave you for any of the Kewpies, but I'll
get along somehow!" and assuming the air of a martyr she started slowly
back up the stairs.
"I'll get back as quickly as I can, truly, Patsy, so wait for me!" Pat
paused in her ascent. "You're never going in _that_ costume, are you?"
Renee had completely forgotten what she had on! However, she only
laughed and buttoned the coat up closely about her throat.
"Oh, it won't make any difference! I'm ready, Elsbeth--let's hurry!"
"She was took last night with one of her spells and cried and wouldn't
take her powders! And to-day she's still like she was dead," the old
servant explained to Renee as they almost ran through the streets. They
made a curious pair--the young girl's scarlet skirts swinging out below
the coat, the gilded cardboard with which she had covered her slippers
flopping about her ankles and the ends of the big black bow peeping out
from under the soft hat she had clapped upon her head; Elsbeth, hobbling
in her effort to keep up with the younger feet, her loosened ends of
stringy gray hair flying in every direction, and her hands rolled in the
apron she tried vainly to conceal under the short, shabby jacket she
wore.
"The Lord sent Mis' Lee," she gasped, panting for breath, "and she
sez--go fetch Miss Renny! An' I come!"
"She'll be better, I know, with Mrs. Lee there! Don't worry, Elsbeth,"
and Renee, heedless of the panting breath beside her, quickened her pace
so that in a very few minutes she was tapping at the door.
Mrs. Lee opened it and drew Renee into the dingy parlor. She went to
one of the windows and raised the shade to the very top, letting in a
flood of warm sunshine. Then she whispered to Renee:
"The doctor is with her now. It is the first time since I have known
her that we could get her to see a doctor! Take off your coat, my dear!
Oh----" she stared for a moment, puzzled, then laughed: "you were trying
on your costume for Keineth's party! You are a picture, my dear!" She
hesitated, as though something in Renee's face suddenly held her
attention.
"Just for a moment you made me think of someone, but I can't tell who!
Perhaps it is that you so thoroughly look the part of a little Maid of
Alsace! I thought, while we were waiting, I might tell you a little
more of poor Mrs. Forrester's story. Then you will understand why she
suffers as she does! She was not always alone as she is now--she once
had a beautiful young daughter----"
"Oh," broke in Renee, excitedly, "was that the lost baby?"
"Yes, though she was twenty years old! Now the mother always thinks of
her as a baby."
"Did she die?"
"No--to Mrs. Forrester then it was worse than death. The two of them
seemed to have been quite alone in the world; the mother cared for
nothing but the little girl. Every luxury that money could buy she
heaped upon her with a lavish hand. One might think that the child
would have been dreadfully spoiled but those who knew them say she was
sweet and gentle, pretty as a flower. When she was a little older the
mother took her away--she must have the best schooling that money could
obtain. They traveled a great deal, too. And all the while, as the
young girl grew toward womanhood, the proud mother was building plans
for the wonderful future her child must have! I do not know of just
what greatness she dreamed--whether it was of some Duchess Somebody or
even a prince's title--I only know that she held money and high social
position as the greatest gifts with which a Kindly Providence could
endow her flower and lost sight of what makes real happiness in this
world!