wilderment when
Mollie interrupted her impatiently.

"I don't suppose you do," she said, with fond severity. "You never do give
yourself credit for anything, anyway, Betty Nelson. But who was it, I'd
like to know, that first had courage to go up and speak to that criminal?"

"Oh, that!" said Betty, sinking back relievedly. "Anybody could have done
that."

"Perhaps anybody could," retorted Mollie practically. "But you notice
nobody else did, don't you, Betty Nelson?"

"Well, I know, but that didn't have anything to do with capturing him,"
argued Betty, determined not to take any more than her share of the
credit--and not that, if she could help it. "If Sergeant Mullins hadn't
happened along just at that moment, he'd have gotten away from us the way
he did those other times."

"Yes, but who delayed him, I'd like to know," Mollie flung back
triumphantly, "and gave the Sergeant time to come along and finish up the
work?"

"All right," laughed Betty. "I'll admit that much, since you insist. But
what earthly difference does it make, anyway, as long as it's done?" she
cried. "Just think," her voice trembled a little, "how happy those two
must be in there! I--I--oh, I can't believe it yet."

"Well, but that's still troubling me," said Grace, so apropos of nothing
at all that they just stared at her.

"Goodness, don't look at me like that," she cried irritably, getting up
and walking round the room. "You know I always did hate mysteries."

"We should be very much obliged," said Mollie, with forced politeness, "if
you would tell us what you're raving about."

"Goodness, don't you even see there is a mystery?" she cried, facing them
impatiently. "How in the world could Sergeant Mullins ever be Mrs.
Sanderson's son?"

"You'd better ask 'em," chuckled Mollie. "They both seemed so tolerably
sure of it that we've taken it for granted. What's the deep, dark
mystery?"

"Grace means," it was Amy who acted the peacemaker this time, "that it's
strange about the name."

"And, of course, it is," Betty added gravely. "Sergeant Mullins should by
all rights be Sergeant Sanderson."

"And Mrs. Sanderson couldn't have known about his being called Mullins,"
Grace broke in eagerly, "because we've spoken to her of Sergeant Mullins
more than once, and she never acted as though more than casually
interested."

"Well, but I suppose that's easily enough explained," said Mollie, who was
in no mood for details--the actual occurrences be