“Now, Madie, you just promise you will say nothing about my man and Mrs. Johnston’s wash.  I tried to do something noble and it didn’t pan out, so if you are a good little pal, and a first rate sport, you will keep mam as a clam, won’t you, please, Madie?”

“Well, since it did not end in a tragedy I suppose I may keep quiet without breaking honor, but you know, Gracie, I am six months older than you, and I would be held accountable at a trial.”

“Don’t you fret,” and Grace was now shaking her curly head and throwing her blazing cheeks up to the clearance light, with, renewed defiance.  “I certainly had a lovely time while it lasted.”

“There are the girls!” exclaimed Madaline joyously.  “It would have been dreadful if they were obliged to go all the way into Flosston without us.  They would have come back with the mill bell man looking for us.”

“Whoo-hoo!!  Coo-ee, Coo-ee!!” trilled Grace, and back came the welcome answer.

“Coo-ee!  Coo-ee!  Whoo-hoo!”

Realizing the lost was found, Lieutenant Lindsley stood on top of the little hill, just over the turn of the macadam road, that outlined Oakley Avenue, the one street of distinction that ran through the country and gave tone to little Flosston on its way.  She was an attractive figure standing there in her plain serge suit, and soft tam-o’-shanter on her finely poised head, and even at a distance one would be correct in describing Romaine Lindsley as an attractive, fine-looking young girl.

Around her were the other members of the hiking party, all of whom had come to an abrupt halt, at the call of Grace and Madaline from the woodlands.

“Don’t run to meet them,” cautioned the lieutenant, “that might mean another mixup,” and she gave a double quick trill to notify the delinquents they were expected to report promptly.  “After all there appears to be no harm done, other than the loss of an afternoon’s sport.”

“But I did not get my watercress,” wailed Winnie, the blonde of the McKay twins.

“And I lost a perfectly good side comb mother just received from Philadelphia,” complained Cleo.  “I wanted this kind and could not get them around here.  Now one is lost and the other useless.”

“But we must not complain, Cleo,” admonished the lieutenant pleasantly.  “It isn’t good scouting, you know.”

By this time the runaways, or lost sheep, had caught up with the awaiting contingent.  That they would be deluged with questions, and all but stampeded for answers, was to be expected.

“It was an accident,” Grace managed to inject finally.  “Madie’s foot went blistered—­and I hunted around for some—­some medicated leaves,” this was said in an apologetic tone, “and when the heel was all fixed we were thoroughly lost.”

Madaline sighed and smiled alternately, and agreed without venturing to say so.

“Well, we are glad you met with no mishap,” declared the lieutenant, to whom girls lost in the woods was not a new adventure.  “We were going back for you just now.  The trouble was we took the left road to look for you, when, of course, you were hugging due right.  Didn’t you see our trail?”