“I still feel as if I were dreaming,” said Amy, as they entered the camp gate.  “It all happened so suddenly, and just when we were feeling so awfully blue.”

“Well, I know I wasn’t dreaming,” said Grace plaintively, “because in my excitement I dropped two perfectly good candies in the road and forgot to pick ’em up.”

They laughed at her, and Betty added whimsically: 

“Perhaps it was just as well for your digestion that you did.  I suppose you’ll have to go to the guardhouse to explain about the prisoner,” she rather stated than asked, turning to Sergeant Mullins.

“Yes,” he said, adding, with a trace of hesitation:  “It won’t take long though, and if you don’t mind waiting till I get back I’d like to have that talk with the old lady he knocked down.  It’s necessary to see her as soon as possible.”

“Goodness, we don’t mind waiting,” cried Betty.  “And you can’t see her too quickly to suit us.  We’re just crazy to see the whole thing settled—­”

“And that brute behind the bars,” finished Mollie vindictively.

Sergeant Mullins laughed boyishly, saluted smartly, and turned on his heel to follow the boys who were fast bearing the prisoner to the guardhouse and from there to the just punishment that had been so long in overtaking him.

“Well,” said Mollie, as she flopped down on the steps and favored the girls with a beaming smile, “now what have you got to say for yourselves?”

“More in truth than in modesty,” twinkled the Little Captain, “I should say that we are pretty good.”

“My! don’t we love us?” queried Grace, fishing up from her pocket a much-mangled and sadly worn chocolate and calmly inserting it between two very pretty rows of white teeth.  “It’s really touching—­”

“Oh, Grace, how can you think of candies at a time like this?” cried Mollie impatiently.

“Don’t know,” returned Grace, calmly nibbling.  “It’s a gift, I guess.”

“Gracie, you’re an awful goose,” cried Betty, hugging her impulsively.  “But I’m so happy, I’ll forgive you even that—­”

“It’s you that ought to be forgiven for calling me names,” returned Grace, in an injured tone of voice.  “Goodness,” she cried, a moment later, pointing a moist and tired chocolate in the direction of the horizon.  “Am I mistaken, or is that the stalwart figure of our sergeant approaching in the distance?”

“Oh, it is, it is!” cried Betty, springing to her feet and fairly dancing in her excitement and impatience.  “Oh, I can’t wait!  Why doesn’t he hurry?”

As a matter of fact, the sergeant was hurrying very much indeed, for he was almost as eager as the girls to see the old lady and collect the evidence in the case against the motorcyclist.

He was panting as he sprang up the steps toward them and his eyes were bright with anticipation.

“I got back as soon as I could,” he cried.  “Now, if you can take me—­”