Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  The girls were much amused when they learned they had made so important a sale to one of themselves.

  “If we had asked Mrs. Dyer to give us fifteen dollars, cold cash,” remarked Laura, “she would have snubbed us properly; but the first article from her attic which we sold has netted us that sum and I really believe we will get from fifty to seventy-five dollars more out of the rest of the stuff.”

  Mrs. Charleworth dropped in during the afternoon and immediately became interested in the Dudley-Markham furniture. The family to whom it had formerly belonged she knew had been one of the very oldest and most important in Dorfield. The Dudley-Markhams had large interests in Argentine and would make their future home there, but here were the possessions of their grandmothers and great-grandmothers, rescued from their ancient dust, and Mrs. Charleworth was a person who loved antiques and knew their sentimental and intrinsic values.

  “The Dyers were foolish to part with these things,” she asserted. “Of course, Mary Dyer isn’t supposed to know antiques, but the professor has lived abroad and is well educated.”

  “The professor wasn’t at home,” explained Edna. “Perhaps that was lucky for us. He is in Chicago, and we pleaded so hard that Mrs. Dyer let us go into the attic and help ourselves.”

  “Well, that proves she has a generous heart,” said the grand lady, with a peculiar, sphinx-like smile. “I will buy these two chairs, at your price, when you are ready to sell them.”

  “We will hold them for you,” replied Edna. “They’re to be revarnished and properly ‘restored,’ you know, and we’ve a man in our employ who knows just how to do it.”

  When Mary Louise told Colonel Hathaway, jokingly, at dinner that evening, of Josie’s extravagant purchase, her girl friend accepted the chaffing composedly and even with a twinkle in her baby-blue eyes. She made no comment and led Mary Louise to discourse on other subjects.

  That night Josie sat up late, locked in her own room, with only the pedestal-desk for company. First she dropped to her knees, pushed up a panel in the square base, and disclosed the fact that in this inappropriate place were several cleverly constructed secret compartments, two of which were well filled with papers. The papers were not those of the Dudley-Markhams; they were not yellowed with age; they were quite fresh.

  “There!” whispered the girl, triumphantly; “the traitor is in my toils. Is it just luck, I wonder, or has fate taken a hand in the game? How the Kaiser would frown, if he knew what I am doing to-night; and how Daddy would laugh! But — let’s see! — perhaps this is just a wedge, and I’ll need a sledge-hammer to crack open the whole conspiracy.”

  The reason Josie stayed up so late was because she carefully examined every paper and copied most of those she had found. But toward morning she finished her self-imposed task, replaced the papers, slid the secret panel into place and then dragged the rather heavy piece of furniture into the far end of the deep closet that opened off her bedroom. Before the desk she hung several dresses, quite masking it from observation. Then she went to bed and was asleep in two minutes.

  CHAPTER XIII

  JOE LANGLEY, SOLDIER

  Strange as it may seem, Mary Louise and her Liberty Girls were regarded with envy by many of the earnest women of Dorfield, who were themselves working along different lines to promote the interests of the government in the Great War. Every good woman was anxious to do her duty in this national emergency, but every good woman loves to have her efforts appreciated, and since the advent of the bevy of pretty young girls in the ranks of female patriotism, they easily became the favorites in public comment and appreciation. Young men and old cheerfully backed the Liberty Girls in every activity they undertook. The Dorfield Red Cross was a branch of the wonderful national organization; the “Hoover Conservation Club” was also national in its scope; the “Navy League Knitting Knot” sent its work to Washington headquarters; all were respectfully admired and financially assisted on occasion. But the “Liberty Girls of Dorfield” were distinctly local and a credit to the city. Their pretty uniforms were gloriously emblematic, their fresh young faces glowed with enthusiasm, their specialty of “helping our soldier boys” appealed directly to the hearts of the people. Many a man, cold and unemotional heretofore in his attitude toward the war, was won to a recognition of its menace, its necessities, and his personal duty to his country, by the arguments and example of the Liberty Girls. If there was a spark of manhood in him, he would not allow a young girl to out-do him in patriotism.

  Mary Louise gradually added to her ranks, as girl after girl begged to be enrolled in the organization. After consulting the others, it was decided to admit all desirable girls between the ages of 14 and 18, and six companies were formed during the following weeks, each company consisting of twenty girls. The captains were the original six — Alora, Laura, Edna, Lucile, Jane and Mary Louise. Irene Macfarlane was made adjutant and quartermaster, because she was unable to participate actively in the regimental drills.

  Mary Louise wanted Josie to be their general, but Josie declined. She even resigned, temporarily, from membership, saying she had other duties to attend to that would require all her time. Then the girls wanted Mary Louise to be general of the Dorfield Liberty Girls, but she would not consent.

  “We will just have the six companies and no general at all,” she said. “Nor do we need a colonel, or any officers other than our captains. Each and every girl in our ranks is just as important and worthy of honor as every other girl, so the fewer officers the better.”

  About this time Joe Langley came back from France with one arm gone. He was Sergeant Joe Langley, now, and wore a decoration for bravery that excited boundless admiration and pride throughout all Dorfield. Joe had driven a milk wagon before he left home and went to Canada to join the first contingent sent abroad, but no one remembered his former humble occupation. A hero has no past beyond his heroism. The young man’s empty sleeve and his decoration admitted him to intercourse with the “best society” of Dorfield, which promptly placed him on a pedestal.

  “You know,” said Joe, rather shamefacedly deprecating the desire to lionize him, “there wasn’t much credit in what I did. I’m even sorry I did it, for my foolishness sent me to the hospital an’ put me out o’ the war. But there was Tom McChesney, lyin’ out there in No Man’s Land, with a bullet in his chest an’ moanin’ for water. Tom was a good chum o’ mine, an’ I was mad when I saw him fall — jest as the Boches was drivin’ us back to our trenches. I know’d the poor cuss was in misery, an’ I know’d what I’d expect a chum o’ mine to do if I was in Tom’s place. So out I goes, with my Cap’n yellin’ at me to stop, an’ I got to Tom an’ give him a good, honest swig. The bullets pinged around us, although I saw a German officer — a decent young fellow — try to keep his men from shootin’. But he couldn’t hold ‘em in, so I hoisted Tom on my back an’ started for our trenches. Got there, too, you know, jest as a machine-gun over to the right started spoutin’. It didn’t matter my droppin’ Tom in the trench an’ tumblin’ after him. The boys buried him decent while the sawbones was cuttin’ what was left of my arm away, an’ puttin’ me to sleep with dope. It was a fool trick, after all, ‘though God knows I’ll never forget the look in Tom’s eyes as he swallered that swig o’ cool water. That’s all, folks. I’m out o’ the game, an’ I s’pose the Gen’ral jus’ pinned this thing on my coat so I wouldn’t take my discharge too much to heart.”

  That was Joe Langley. Do you wonder they forgot he was once a milk-man, or that every resident of Dorfield swelled with pride at the very sight of him? Just one of “our soldier boys,” just one of the boys the Liberty Girls were trying to assist.

  “They’re all alike,” said Mary Louise. “I believe every American soldier would be a Joe Langley if he had the chance.”

  Joe took a mighty interest in the Liberty Girls. He volunteered to drill and make soldiers of them, and so well did he perform this task — perhaps because they admired him and were proud of their drill-master — that
when the last big lot of selected draft men marched away, the entire six companies of Liberty Girls marched with them to the train — bands playing and banners flying — and it was conceded to be one of the greatest days Dorfield had ever known, because everyone cheered until hoarse.

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE PROFESSOR IS ANNOYED

  Josie O’Gorman, after resigning from the Liberty Girls, became — so she calmly stated — a “loafer.” She wandered around the streets of Dorfield in a seemingly aimless manner, shopped at the stores without buying, visited the houses of all sorts of people, on all sorts of gossipy errands, interviewed lawyers, bankers and others in an inconsequential way that amused some and annoyed others, and conducted herself so singularly that even Mary Louise was puzzled by her actions.

  But Josie said to Mary Louise: “My, what a lot I’m learning! There’s nothing more interesting — or more startling — or, sometimes, more repulsive — than human nature.”

  “Have you learned anything about the German spy plot?” questioned Mary Louise eagerly.

  “Not yet. My quest resembles a cart-wheel. I go all around the outer rim first, and mark the spokes when I come to them. Then I follow each spoke toward the center. They’ll all converge to the hub, you know, and when I’ve reached the hub, with all my spokes of knowledge radiating from it, I’m in perfect control of the whole situation.”

  “Oh. How far are you from the hub, Josie?”

  “I’m still marking the spokes, Mary Louise.”

  “Are there many of them?”

  “More than I suspected.”

  “Well, I realize, dear, that you’ll tell me nothing until you are ready to confide in me; but please remember, Josie, how impatient I am and how I long to bring the traitors to justice.”

  “I won’t forget, Mary Louise. We’re partners in this case and perhaps I shall ask your help, before long. Some of my spokes may be blinds and until I know something positive there’s no use in worrying you with confidences which are merely surmises.”

  Soon after this conversation Mary Louise found herself, as head of the Liberty Girls, in an embarrassing position. Professor Dyer returned from Chicago on an evening train and early next morning was at the Shop even before its doors were opened, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Mary Louise.

  “There has been a mistake,” he said to her, hastily, as she smilingly greeted him; “in my absence Mrs. Dyer has thoughtlessly given you some old furniture, which I value highly. It was wife’s blunder, of course, but I want back two of the articles and I’m willing to pay your Shop as much for them as you could get elsewhere.”

  “Oh, I’m awfully sorry, Professor,” said the girl, really distressed, as she unlocked the Shop door. “Come in, please. Mrs. Dyer told our girls to go into the attic and help themselves to anything they wanted. We’ve done splendidly with the old furniture, and fenders, and brassware, but I hope the two articles you prize are still unsold. If so, you shall not pay us for them, but we will deliver them to your house immediately.”

  He did not reply, for already he was searching through the accumulation of odds and ends with which the store-room was stocked.

  “Perhaps I can help you,” suggested Mary Louise.

  He turned to her, seeming to hesitate.

  “One was a chair; a chair with spindle legs and a high back, richly carved. It is made of black oak, I believe.”

  “Oh, I remember that well,” said the girl. “Mrs. Charleworth bought it from us.”

  “Mrs. Charleworth? Well, perhaps she will return it to me. I know the lady slightly and will explain that I did not wish to part with it.” Still his eyes were roving around the room, and his interest in the chair seemed somewhat perfunctory. “The other piece of furniture was a sort of escritoire, set on a square pedestal that had a carved base of lions’ feet.” His voice had grown eager now, although he strove to render it calm, and there was a ring of anxiety in his words.

  Mary Louise felt relieved as she said assuringly:

  “That, at least, I can promise you will be returned. My friend, Josie O’Gorman, bought it and had it sent to our house, where she is visiting. As soon as some of the girls come here to relieve me, I’ll take you home with me and have Uncle Eben carry the desk to your house in our motor car. It isn’t so very big, and Uncle Eben can manage it easily.”

  The tense look on the man’s face relaxed. It evident that Professor Dyer was greatly relieved.

  “Thank you,” he said; “I’d like to get it back as soon as possible.”

  But when, half an hour later, they arrived at the Hathaway residence, and met Josie just preparing to go out, the latter said with a bewildered look in her blue eyes: “The old desk? Why, I sent that home to Washington days ago!”

  “You did?” Mary Louise was quite surprised. “Why, you said nothing to me about that, Josie.”

  “I didn’t mention it because I’d no idea you were interested. Daddy loves old things, and I sent it home so he would have it on his return. By freight. You are away at the Shop all day, you know, so I asked Uncle Eben to get me a big box, which he brought to my room. The desk fitted it nicely. I nailed on the cover myself, and Uncle Eben took it to the freight office for me. See; here’s the receipt, in my pocket-book.”

  She unfolded a paper and held it out to Professor Dyer, who read it with a queer look on his face. It was, indeed, a freight receipt for “one piece of furniture, boxed,” to be shipped to John O’Gorman, Washington, D. C, The sender was described as “Miss J. O’Gorman, Dorfield.” There was no questioning Josie’s veracity, but she called the black servant to substantiate her story.

  “Yes, Miss Josie,” said Uncle Eben, “I done took de box to de freight office an’ got de receipt, lak yo’ tol’ me. Tuesday, it were; las’ Tuesday.”

  Professor Dyer was thoughtful.

  “You say your father is away from home at present?” he asked.

  “Yes; he’s abroad.”

  “Do you suppose the freight office in Washington would deliver the box to me, on your order?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Josie, “It’s consigned to John O’Gorman, and only John O’Gorman can sign for its receipt.”

  Again the Professor reflected. He seemed considerably disturbed.

  “What is the business of John O’Gorman, your father?” he presently inquired.

  “He’s a member of the government’s secret service,” Josie replied, watching his face.

  The professor’s eyes widened; he stood a moment as if turned to stone. Then he gave a little, forced laugh and said:

  “I’m obliged to make a trip to Washington, on business, and I thought perhaps I’d pick up the — ah — -the box, there, and ship to Dorfield. The old desk isn’t valuable, except — except that it’s — ah — antique and — unusual. I’d like to get it back and I’ll return to you the money you paid for it, and the freight charges. If you’ll write a note to the railway company, saying the box was wrongly addressed and asking that it be delivered to my order, I think I can get it.”

  Josie agreed to this at once. She wrote the note and also gave Professor Dyer the freight receipt. But she refused to take his money.

  “There might be some hitch,” she explained. “If you get the box, and it reaches Dorfield safely, then I’ll accept the return of my money; but railroads are unreliable affairs and have queer rules, so let’s wait and see what happens.”

  The Professor assured her, however, that there was no doubt of his getting the box, but he Would wait to pay her, if she preferred to let the matter rest. When he had gone away — seeming far more cheerful than when he came — Mary Louise said to Josie:

  “This is a very unfortunate and embarrassing affair, all around. I’m so sorry we took that furniture from Mrs. Dyer before her husband came home and gave his consent. It is very embarrassing.”

  “I’m glad, for my part,” was the reply. Josie’s blue eyes were shining innocently and her smile was very sweet. Mary Louise regarded her
suspiciously.

  “What is it, Josie!” she demanded. “What has that old desk to do with — with — ”

  “The German spy plot? Just wait and see, Mary Louise.”

  “You won’t tell me?”

  “Not now, dear.”

  “But why did you ship the thing to Washington, if it is likely to prove a valuable clue?”

  “Why ask questions that I can’t answer? See here, Mary Louise: it isn’t wise, or even safe, for me to tell you anything just yet. What I know frightens me — even me! Can’t you wait and — trust me?”

  “Oh, of course,” responded Mary Louise in a disappointed voice. “But I fail to understand what Professor Dyer’s old desk can possibly have to do with our quest.”

  Josie laughed.

  “It used to belong to the Dudley-Markhams.”

  “The Dudley-Markhams! Great heavens, But — see here — they left Dorfield long before this war started, and so — ”

  “I’m going out,” was Josie’s inconsequent remark. “Do you think those are rain clouds, Mary Louise? I hate to drag around an umbrella if it’s not needed.”

  CHAPTER XV

  SUSPENDERS FOR SALE

  The two girls parted at the Liberty Shop. Mary Louise went in “to attend to business,” while Josie O’Gorman strolled up the street and paused thoughtfully before the windows of Kasker’s Clothing Emporium. At first she didn’t notice that it was Kasker’s; she looked in the windows at the array of men’s wear just so she could think quietly, without attracting attention, for she was undecided as to her next move. But presently, realizing this was Kasker’s place, she gave a little laugh and said to herself: “This is the fellow poor little Mary Louise suspected of being the arch traitor. I wonder if he knows anything at all, or if I could pump it out of him if he does? Guess I’ll interview old Jake, if only to satisfy myself that he’s the harmless fool I take him to be.”