his bed in this manner. What could it be?

When she walked over to the postoffice the girl found the
long-looked-for letter from Josie O'Gorman. It said:

Dear Mary Louise:
How good you are! I positively need a change of scene and a rest, so
I'm coming. To-morrow--by the train to Chargrove. The mystery you hint
at will help me to rest. Dad doesn't want me to grow rusty and he has
some odd theories I'd like to work out. I haven't an idea what your
"mystery" is, of course, but if it enables me to test any one of the
O'Gorman theories (a theory is merely a stepping-stone to positive
information) I shall bless you forever. And that reminds me: I'm coming
as a sewing girl, to help you fix over some summer gowns. You're
anxious to give me the work, because I need it, but as we're rather
chummy I'm half servant and half companion. (I hate sewing and make the
longest stitches you ever saw!) Moreover, I'm Josie Jessup. I'm never
an O'Gorman while I'm working on a mystery; it wouldn't do at all.
Explain this to dear old Gran'pa Jim.

Between the receipt of this script and to-morrow's train jot down in
regular order everything you know concerning the aforesaid mystery.
Make it brief; no speculations or suspicions, just facts. Then I won't
waste any time getting busy.

Can you hear the rumble of my train? While you're reading this I'm on
my way!

Josie

"Good!" murmured Mary Louise, as she folded the letter. "I feel better
already. Whatever the mystery of Old Swallowtail may be, Josie is sure
to solve it."

CHAPTER VIII
THE RED-HEADED GIRL

Sol Jerrems the storekeeper, coming in from the back room where he had
been drawing molasses for Farmer Higgins, found perched on top the
sugar-barrel a chunky, red-haired, freckle-faced young girl whom he had
never seen before. She seemed perfectly at home in his store and sat
with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms encircling her legs,
eyeing soberly the two or three farmers who had come to the Crossing to
"trade."

"If the head o' thet bar'l busts in, you'll be a fine mess," remarked
Sol.

The girl nodded but did not move from her position. Sol waited on his
customers, at times eyeing the strange girl curiously. When the farmers
had gone with their purchases he approached the barrel and examined his
visitor with speculative care.

"Want anything?"

"Spool o' red cotton, number thirty."

"Ain't got no red."

"Green'll do."

"Ain't got green. Only black an'