CONCLUSION
When Marjorie realized that the excitement was all over, she left the
keys of the tea-house with her brother and hurried back to tell the
scouts the good news. It was still very early in the morning; the sun
was just making its appearance above the horizon when she opened the
door of the Harris house. Instead of trying to enter silently, she made
every effort to signify, by her noisy cheer, the success of her
undertaking.
“Hurrah for the Girl Scouts!” she sang out as she reached the foot of
the stairs. “Hurrah for their loyal helpers, the boys!”
She was rewarded by a general stir on the floor above; one by one the
girls slipped out of their beds, donned their kimonas, and came to the
top of the stairs. Lily rushed down and threw her arms around Marjorie.
“You’re safe! You’re safe!” she cried joyously. “Oh, Marj, I’m so
thankful!”
“What happened? Tell us!” demanded two or three other girls at the same
time.
“Wait till I come up,” replied Marjorie, as she and Lily started to
ascend together. “I’ll tell you the whole story, as we finally got it
from the chief boot-legger himself—and from Anna!”
“The boot-legger? Anna?” repeated all the astonished girls at once.
Marjorie nodded and led the way into her own room, surrounded by the
scouts and Mrs. Munsen, who had joined the group. They all climbed upon
her bed, and listened while she recounted, as fast as she could talk,
the thrilling details of the capture and confession. They leaned forward
breathlessly, admiring her more every moment for her courage and
persistence.
“Suppose you had taken our advice and closed the tea-house!” remarked
Marie Louise. “We’d never have discovered the real cause of all those
mysterious knocks.”
“And that old boot-legger and his family would have gone on getting
richer and richer, in opposition to the government!” added Florence.
“I always thought Anna was too good to be true,” put in Daisy. “Most
girls of her ability get more than we could afford to pay her.”
“And besides, now that I think of it,” said Mrs. Munsen, “we really
ought to have considered it very strange for her to go on working in a
place where she had such a dreadful experience as she claimed to have
had. You wouldn’t find one man in a hundred willing to take a chance
like that—let alone a girl!”
“Well, it’s all right now!” said Marjorie, getting up from the bed.
“Now—how about some breakfast?”
“Yes, you must be starved, you poor child!” said Mrs. Munsen. “If you go
down and start things, Marjorie, I’ll be with you in five minutes.”
“And put something on for those noble boys,” said Daisy. “They’ll
probably be along soon!”
The girls separated to dress, but they could not stop talking about the
event; indeed, they discussed it at breakfast, dinner, and supper, upon
every occasion—during their duties at the tea-house and their leisure at
home in the evening.
Nor did they confine their talking to their own party, for Marjorie,
anxious to clear up the suspicion that was attached to the place,
immediately informed all the newspapers; and when the report was
confirmed by the police and even by the Chief Dry Agent of the city, it
received substantial publicity. As a natural result, business increased
as the days went by; the tea-house became more and more widely known to
Philadelphians and their friends, and more generally patronized. As the
time for closing drew near, Marjorie realized that her enterprise was an
overwhelming triumph.
She would have considered the sale of the business and the fine little
sum which she handed into Daisy’s keeping the culmination of their
success, had it not been for an occurrence that took place on Labor
Day—their last day at the tea-room. The whole thing came as a complete
surprise.
It was supper time, and the tea-room was filled with guests. All the
Girl Scouts in their uniforms were serving as waitresses; the boys were
working in the kitchen under the direction of Mrs. Munsen; and even Mrs.
Hadley had insisted upon taking a hand in the work. Just as Marjorie was
wondering what they would do if any more patrons arrived, a motor drew
up to the steps, and stopped while an impressive-looking man got out. He
strode across the porch and opened the screen door in a manner that
proclaimed him a person of dignity and authority.
“Is this the Girl Scout Tea-room?” he asked, in a tone clearly audible
in every part of the room.
“Yes,” replied Ethel, who happened to be standing nearest to the door.
“I am sorry that there are no vacant tables this minute, but if you will
be kind enough to wait in the rest-room, we will try to serve you as
soon as possible.”
“I am sure your supper would be delicious,” replied the man,
courteously, still in the same distinct tone; “but I came for another
purpose than for food. I am the Chief Dry Agent in the city.”
“Yes,” said Ethel, trembling in spite of herself.
“And who is your superior officer?” continued the official.
“Miss Wilkinson,” replied Ethel, as Marjorie came forward.
“Then, Miss Wilkinson, I want to tell you that I am here to congratulate
your troop for catching a notorious boot-legger, who has been baffling
the police for some time. In recognition of this service, we beg to
present you with a written vote of thanks, bearing the seal of our
department beneath the signature. You girls have not only performed a
noteworthy service for the locality, but you have aided in the
enforcement of an important Federal law. Because of your courage and
perseverance, prohibition is one step nearer to becoming an established
fact.”
Amid the applause that followed from every corner of the tea-room as
Marjorie graciously accepted the tribute, the joyous shouts of their
staunch comrades in the kitchen could be heard—those untiring helpers
who had worked so loyally all summer—that splendid band of boys, led by
John Hadley and his assistant, Jack Wilkinson!
THE END