"'Oh, sister! is that all I get?'

"So I told her it was for Aunt Freda, and she gasped:

"'What! All that?'"

The boys got the thing they wanted soldered completed about this time, and Bob ran down the back way with the fire-pot. The rain began to lift. As Nell cheerfully said, a patch of blue sky soon appeared in the west big enough to make a Scotchman a kilt, so they could be sure that it would clear.

Jessie and Amy walked home after seeing the Stanley boys' radio set completed. Their minds then naturally reverted to the adventures of the morning and what they had heard so mysteriously out of the ether the evening before. Jessie had warned her chum to say nothing to anybody about the mysterious prisoner and the stock farm over by Harrimay or of their suspicions until she had talked again with Mr. Norwood.

Momsy came home that afternoon from Aunt Ann's, but Mr. Norwood did not appear. The Court was sitting, and he had several cases which needed his entire attention. He often remained away from home several days in succession at such times.

"And one of the most important cases is that one he told us about," Momsy explained. "He is greatly worried about that. If he cannot find that girl who lived with Mrs. Poole——"

"Oh, Momsy!" exclaimed Jessie, "let us find Daddy and tell him about what Amy and I heard over the radio. I believe we learned something about Bertha Blair, only we could not find her this morning."

She proceeded to explain the adventure which included the automobile trip to Harrimay and the Gandy farm. Momsy became excited. It did not really seem to her to be so; but she agreed that Daddy Norwood ought to hear about it.

When they tried to get him on the long distance telephone, however, the Court had closed for the day and so had the Norwood law office. He was not at his club, and Momsy did not know at which hotel he was to spend the night. There really seemed to be nothing more Jessie could do about the lost witness. And yet she feared that this delay in getting her father's attention would be irreparable.



CHAPTER XXII

SILK!

Belle Ringold and Sally Moon came up to the Norwood place the next forenoon and found Jessie and Amy in a porch hammock, their heads together, writing a letter to Jessie's father. Jessie had tried to get Robert Norwood at his office right after breakfast, but a clerk had informed her that Mr. Norwood was not expected there until later. He would go direct to court from his hotel.

"And they have no more idea where he went to sleep than Momsy had," Jessie had explained to her chum when Amy appeared, eager and curious. "He is so busy with his court work that he does not want to be disturbed, I know. But it seems to me that what we heard over the radio ought to be told to him."

It was Amy who had suggested the writing of the letter and having it taken into town by Chapman, the chauffeur. The coming of Belle and Sally disturbed the chums in the middle of the letter.

"Glad we found you here, Amy," said Belle. "You never are at home, are you?"

"Only to sleep," confessed Amy Drew. "What seems to be the trouble, ladies? Am I not to be allowed to go calling?"

"Oh, we know you are always gadding over here," said Sally, laughing. "You are Jessie's shadow."

"Ha, ha! and likewise ho, ho!" rejoined Amy. "In this case then, the shadow is greater than the substance. I weigh fifteen pounds more than Jess. We'll have to see about that."

"And I suppose your brother, Darrington, is over here, too?" asked Belle, her sharp eyes glancing all about the big veranda.

"Wrong again," rejoined Amy, cheerfully. "But if you have any message for Darry you can trust me to deliver it to him."

"Where is he?"

"Just about off Barnegat, if his plans matured," said Amy composedly.

"Oh!" cried Belle. "Did he go out on that yacht? And without taking any of us girls?" and she began to pout.

"No mixed parties until the family can go along," Amy said promptly. "Jess and I, even, haven't been aboard the Marigold."

"Oh, you children!" scoffed Belle. "I shouldn't think that Darry and Burd Alling and that Mark Stratford would want little girls tagging them. Why, they are in college."

Belle really was a year older than the chums; but she acted, and seemed to feel, as though she were grown up. Amy stared at her with wide eyes.

"Well, I like your nerve!" said she. "Darry's my brother. And I've known Burd Alling since he and Darry went to primary school. And so has Jess. I guess they are not likely to take strangers off on that yacht with them before they take Jess and me."

Belle tossed her head and laughed just as though she considered Amy's heated reply quite childish.

"Oh, dear me," she proclaimed. "To hear you, one would think you were still playmates, all making mud pies together. I don't know that you and Jess, Amy Drew, ever will be grown up."

"Hope not, if we have to grow into anything that looks and acts like you," grumbled Amy.

But Jessie tried to pour oil on the troubled waters. "Just what did you come for, Belle?" she asked. After all, she must play hostess. "Is it anything I can do for you?"

"Some of us older girls are going to have a box party down at the Carter Landing on Lake Monenset the first moonlight night. Sally and I are on the committee of arrangements. We want to talk it over with Darrington and Burd and get them to invite Mark Stratford."

"Humph! You'll have to use long distance or radio," chuckled Amy.

"Now, don't interfere, Amy!" said Belle sharply.

"Wait," Jessie said, in her quiet way. "Don't let us argue over nothing. The boys really are off on their boat. We do not know just when they are coming back. Why don't you write Darry a note and leave it at the house?"

"Humph! I wonder if he'd get it?" snapped Belle, with her face screwed up as though she had bitten into something awfully sour.

"Well! I like her impudence," muttered Amy, as Belle and Sally disappeared. "I don't see how her mother ever let her grow up."

"It is not as bad as all that," her chum said gravely. "But it is awfully silly for Belle and those girls who go with her to be thinking of the boys all the time, and trying to get the older boys to show an interest in them. That is perfectly ridiculous."

"You're right," said Amy, bluntly. "And Darry and Burd think that Belle is foolish."

"Now, let's finish this letter to Daddy," Jessie said, hastily. "And then, oh, Amy Drew, I have an idea!"

"Another idea?" cried her friend.

"I don't know whether there is anything in it or not. But listen. Don't you think we might get Henrietta, take her over to the Gandy place, and look around again for Bertha?"

"We-ell, I admit that kid has got sharp eyes. But how could she see into those buildings that are all shut up any better than we could when we were over there?"

"You don't just get my idea, honey. If the girl who radioed her message, and which we heard, is Henrietta's cousin, she will know Henrietta's voice. And if Henrietta calls her from outside, maybe she can shout and we will hear her."

"That is an idea!" exclaimed Amy. "It might work, at that." Then she laughed. "Anyway, we can give Hen a ride. Hen certainly likes riding in an automobile."

"And Nell has got an almost new dress and other things for her. Let us go down to the parsonage and get them. And while Chapman goes to town with this letter we'll paddle around to Dogtown and get Henrietta."

"Fine!" cried Amy, and ran home for her hat.

A little later, when she had returned from the parsonage with the bundle and the chums were embarked upon the lake, Jessie said:

"I hope the poor little thing will like this dress that Nell was so kind as to find for her. But, to tell the truth, Amy, it seems a little old for Henrietta."

"Is it a cape-coat suit?" giggled her friend.

"It is a little taffeta silk, and Nell said it was cut in a style so disgracefully freakish that she would not let Sally wear it. It was bought at one of those ultra-shops on Fifth Avenue where they have styles for children that ape the frocks their big sisters wear."

"Let's see it," urged Amy, with curiosity.

"Wait till you see it on Henrietta. There are undies, too, and stockings and a pair of shoes that I hope will fit her. But consider! Taffeta silk for a child like Henrietta."

There could be no doubt that the girls from Roselawn were welcome when they landed at Dogtown and came to the Foley house. The greater number of the village children seemed to have swarmed elsewhere; but little Henrietta was sitting on the steps of the house holding the next-to-the-youngest Foley in her arms.

"Hush!" she hissed, holding up an admonishing finger. "He's 'most gone. When he goes I'll lay him in that soap-box and cover him with the mosquito netting. Then I can tend to you."

"The little, old-fashioned thing," murmured Amy. "It isn't right, Jess."

Jessie understood and nodded. She was glad that Amy showed a certain amount of sympathy for Henrietta and appreciation of her. In a few moments the child was utterly relaxed and Henrietta got up and staggered over to the soap-box on wheels and laid the sleeper down upon a pillow.

"He ought to sleep an hour," said little Henrietta, covering Billy Foley carefully so that the flies could not bite his fat, red legs. "I ain't got nothing to do now but to sweep out the house, wash the dishes in the sink, clean the clinkers out of the stove, hang out a line for clothes, and make the beds before Mrs. Foley and the baby get back. I can talk to you girls while I'm doing them things."

"Landy's sake!" gasped Amy, horrified.

But Jessie determined to take matters in her own hands for the time being, Mrs. Foley not being present. She immediately unrolled the bundle of things she had brought, and Henrietta halted on the step of the house, poised as though for flight, her pale eyes gradually growing rounder and rounder.

"Them ain't for me?"

"If they fit you, or can be made to fit you, honey," said Jessie.

"Oh, the poor child!" exclaimed Amy softly, taking care that Henrietta should not hear her.

"Silk!" murmured Henrietta, and sat down on the step again, put her arms out widely and squeezed the silk dress up to her flat little body as though the garment was another baby.

"Silk!" repeated the poor little thing. "Miss Jessie! How good you are to me! I never did have a thing made of silk before, 'cepting a hair-ribbon. And I never had any too many of them."



CHAPTER XXIII

DARRY'S BIG IDEA

When Mrs. Foley and the baby arrived home there stood upon the platform at the back door of the house a most amazing figure. She knew every child in Dogtown, and none of them had ever made such an appearance. She almost dropped the baby through amazement.

"For love of John Thomas McGuire!" burst forth the "bulgy" woman, finally finding her voice. "What's happened to that child? Is it an angel she's turned into? Or is she an heiress, I dunno? Hen Haney! what's the meaning of this parade? And have you washed the dishes like I told you?"

"You must forgive her, Mrs. Foley," Jessie said, coming down to meet the woman and taking the baby from her. "Go and see and speak to the child," she whispered. "She is so delighted that she has not been able to talk for ten minutes."

"Then," said Mrs. Foley solemnly, "the wor-r-rld has come to an end. When Hen Haney can't talk——"

But she mounted heavily to the platform. Little Henrietta stood there like a wax figure. She dared not move for fear something would happen to her finery.

Every individual freckle on her thin, sharp face seemed to shine as though there was some radiance behind it. Absurd as that taffeta dress was for a child of her age, it seemed to her an armor against all disaster. Nothing bad (she had already acclaimed it to Amy and Jessie) could happen to her with that frock on. And those silk stockings! And the patent-toed shoes! And a hat that almost hid the child's features from view!

"Well, well, well!" muttered the amazed Mrs. Foley. "If anybody had ever told me that you'd have been dressed up like—like a millionaire's kid! When I took you away from your poor dead mother and brought you out here, Hen Haney, to be a playfellow of me little Charlie, and Billy, and—and—Well, anyway, to be a playmate to them. Ha! You never cleaned out the stove-grate, did you?"

She had looked into the kitchen and saw the dishes in the sink and the gaping stove hearth, and shook her head. Jessie thought it time to intercede for the little girl.

"You must forgive her, Mrs. Foley, and blame me. I made her dress up in the things we brought. I was sure you would want to see her in her Sunday clothes."

A deep sigh welled up from Henrietta's chest. "Am I going to sure-enough keep 'em to wear Sundays?" she asked.

"If Mrs. Foley will let you," said the politic Jessie. "You can keep them very carefully. It is really wonderful how well they fit."

"Sure," sighed Mrs. Foley, "she's better dressed than me own children."

"But you told us your children were all boys," Amy put in quickly.

"Aw, but a time like this I wish't I had a daughter," declared the woman, gazing at Henrietta almost tenderly. "What a sweet little colleen she might be if she had some flesh on her bones and something besides freckles to color her face. Yes, yes!"

"I am awfully glad, Mrs. Foley," said Jessie quickly, "to see how much you approve of what we have tried to do for Henrietta. So I am bold enough to ask you to let us take her up to my house for over night. Momsy wants to see her in these new clothes, and——"

"Well, if Mrs. Momsy—Or is it Mr. Momsy, I dunno?"

"Why, Momsy is my mother!"

"The like o' that now! And she lets you call her out o' name? Well, there is no understanding you rich folks. Ha! So you want to take little Hen away from me?"

"Only for over night. It would be a little vacation for her, you know."

Mrs. Foley looked back into the kitchen and shook her head. "By the looks o' things," she said, "she's been having a vacation right here. Well, she'll be no good for a while anyway, I can see that. Why, she can't much more than speak with them glad rags on her."

"Come on," said Henrietta, and walked down the steps, heading toward the lake.

Amy burst into laughter again, and even Mrs. Foley began to grin.

"She's as ready to go as though you two young ladies was her fairy god-mothers. Sure, and maybe 'tis me own fault. I've been telling her for years about the Good Little People that me grandmother knew in Ireland—or said she knew, God rest her soul!—and she has always been looking for banshees and ha'nts and fairies to appear and whisk her away. She is a princess in disguise that's been char-r-rmed by a wicked witch. All them stories and beliefs has kept her contented. She's a good little thing," Mrs. Foley ended, wiping her eyes. "Go along with her and tell your Mrs. Momsy to be good to her."

So they got away from Dogtown with flying colors. Henrietta sat, a little silk-clad figure, in the bottom of the canoe and shivered whenever she thought a drop of water might come inboard.

"She ought to have worn her old clothes in the canoe," Amy suggested, but with dancing eyes.

"O-o-oh!" gasped Henrietta, pleadingly.

"It is going to take dentist's forceps to ever get the child out of that dress," chuckled Jessie. "I can see that."

They got back to Roselawn in good season for dinner. Chapman had returned from town, but had not brought Mr. Norwood home. Jessie's father, it seemed, had left the courtroom early in the afternoon and had gone out of town on some matter connected with the Ellison case. That case, as Jessie and her mother feared, was already in the court. A jury had been decided upon, as the defendants, Mrs. Poole and Mrs. Bothwell, had been advised by McCracken, their lawyer, to demand a jury trial.

The plaintiffs would have to get in their witnesses the next day. If Bertha Blair was ever to aid the side of right and truth in this matter, she must be found and brought to court.

"And we don't know how to find her. If she is hidden away over there at that Gandy farm, how shall we ever find it out for sure?" wailed Jessie. "I hoped Daddy would get my letter and come and take charge of the search himself."

"Your idea of taking Henrietta over there and letting her call Bertha is a good one," declared Amy stubbornly. "Aren't you going to do it?"

"Yes. We'll drive over early. But it is only a chance."

They could not interest Henrietta in her Cousin Bertha that evening, save that she said she hoped Bertha would come and see her before she had to take off the silk dress and the other articles of her gay apparel.

She scarcely had appetite for dinner, although Momsy and Jessie tried their very best to interest Henrietta in several dishes that were supposed to appeal to a child's palate. Henrietta was polite and thanked them, but was not enthusiastic.

She found a tall mirror in the drawing room and every time they missed her, Jessie tip-toed into that long apartment to see Henrietta posing before the glass. The child certainly did enjoy her finery.

The suggestion of bedtime only annoyed Henrietta. But finally Jessie took her upstairs and showed her the twin beds in her own room, one of which the visitor was to occupy, and so gradually Henrietta came to the idea that some time she would have to remove the new clothes.

They listened in on the radio that evening until late, using the amplifier and horn that Mr. Norwood had bought. Henrietta could not understand how the voices could come into the room over the outside wires.

"I'll tell Charlie Foley and Montmorency Shannon about this," she confided to Jessie and Amy. "I guess you don't know them. But they are smart. They can rig one of these wireless things with wires, I bet. And then the whole of Dogtown will listen in."

"Or, say! Maybe they won't let poor folks like those in Dogtown have radios? Will they?"

"This is for the rich and poor alike," Jessie assured her.

"Provided," added Amy, "that the poor are not too poor."

They finally got Henrietta to bed. She went to sleep with the silk dress hanging over a chair within reach. After Amy had gone home Jessie retired with much more worriment upon her mind than little Henrietta had upon hers.

Everybody was astir early about the Norwood and Drew places in Roselawn that next morning. At the former house Jessie and Henrietta aroused everybody. At the Drew place "two old salts," as Amy sleepily called them from her bedroom window, came rambling in from a taxi-cab and disturbed the repose of the family.

"Where did you leave that Marigold?" the sister demanded from her window. "You boys go off on that yacht, supposedly to stay a year, and get back in forty-eight hours. You turn up like a couple of bad pennies. You——"

"Chop it, Sis," Darry advised. "See if you can get a bite fixed for a couple of started castaways. The engine went dead on us and we sailed into Barnegat last night and all hands came home by train. Mark has the laugh on us."

Fortunately the cook was already downstairs and Amy put on a negligee and ran down to sit with the boys in the breakfast room and listen to the tale of their adventures.

"Oh! But," she said, after a while, "there's been something doing in this neighborhood, too. At least, our neighbors have been doing something. Do you know, Darry, Jess is bound to find that lost girl we were telling you about? Mr. Norwood goes into court to-day on that Ellison case, and he admits himself that he has very little chance of winning without the testimony of Bertha Blair."

"Fine name," drawled Darry. "Sounds like a movie actress."

"Let me tell you," Amy said eagerly.

She related how she and Jessie had tried to find Bertha after hearing what they believed to be the lost girl's voice out of the air. Darry and Burd listened with increasing wonder.

"What won't you kids do next?" gasped Darry.

"I wish you wouldn't call us kids. You are as bad as Belle Ringold," complained his sister.

"Is she hanging around here yet?" demanded Darry. "I don't want to see that girl. I know I'm going to say something unpleasant to her yet."

"She is right after you, just the same," Amy said, suddenly giggling. She told about the coming moonlight box-party down the lake.

"We'll go right back to the Marigold, Burd," said Darry promptly. "Home is no place for us. But tell us what else you did, Sis."

When Amy had finished her tale her brother was quite serious. Particularly was he anxious to help Jessie, for he thought a good deal of his sister's chum.

"Tell you what," he said, looking at Burd, "we'll hang around long enough to ride over to the stock farm with the girls, sha'n't we?"

"What do you think you can do more than they have done?" asked Burd, with some scorn.

"I have an idea," said Darry Drew slowly. "I think it is a good one. It even beats using that little Hen Haney for a bait. Listen here."

And he proceeded to tell them.



A RADIO TRICK



CHAPTER XXIV

A RADIO TRICK

Jessie was of course delighted to see Darry and Burd in Amy's company when her chum appeared on the Norwood premises after breakfast. Jessie had dressed Henrietta, and the child was preening herself in the sun like a peacock. The boys scarcely recognized her.

At once Burd Alling called her the Enchanted Princess. That disturbed little Henrietta but slightly.

"I expect I am a 'chanted princess,'" she admitted gravely. "I expect I am like Cinderella. I know all about her. And the pumpkin and rats and mice was charmed, too. I hope I won't get charmed back again into my old clothes."

"You could not very well help Mrs. Foley in that dress, Henrietta," Jessie suggested.

"No. I suppose not. But if I could just find my cousin Bertha maybe I would not have to help Mrs. Foley any more. Maybe Bertha is rich, and we could hire somebody to take care of Billy Foley and to clean out the kitchen stove."

She was more than eager to ride along with the others to look for Bertha Blair. As it chanced, Jessie did not have to call for Chapman and the Norwood car when the time to go came. For who should drive up to the house but Mark Stratford, who had come home with Darry and Burd from the yacht cruise and had driven over from Stratfordtown in his powerful car?

It was a tight fit for the six in the racing car, but they squeezed in and drove out through the Parkville road while it was still early morning. Meanwhile Darry had explained his idea to the others, and they were all eager to view the surroundings of the Gandy stock farm.

"If Bertha is there she'll know me if I holler; of course, she will," agreed little Henrietta. "But she never will know me by looking at me. Never!"

"So she'll have to shut her eyes if she wants to know you, will she, kid?" chuckled Burd.

There really did not seem to be any need for the child to call when the party stopped before the closed gate, for there was not any sign of occupancy of either the house or surrounding buildings. The shingled old house offered blank windows to the road, like so many sightless eyes. There were no horses in the stables, for the windows over the box-stalls were all closed. And the tower the girls had marked before seemed deserted as well.

"Just the same, the voice spoke of the red barn and that silo and those two fallen trees there. Chapman says the trees must have fallen lately. And yet there isn't an aerial in sight, as we told you," said Jessie.

"Let's look around," Darry said, jumping out, and Burd and Amy went with him. Mark turned around in the driver's seat to talk with Jessie.

"You know, it's a funny thing that the girl's name should be Bertha Blair," the young man said. "I heard you folks talking about her before, and I said something about it to our Mr. Blair at the factory. He's had a lot of trouble in his family. Never had any children, he and his wife, but always wanted 'em."

"His younger brother married a girl of whom the Blair family did not approve. Guess she was all right, but came from poor kind of folks. And when the younger Blair died they lost trace of his wife and a baby girl they had. Funny thing," added Mark. "That baby's name was Bertha—Bertha Blair. When I told the superintendent something about your looking for such a girl because of a law case, he was much interested. If you go over there again to the sending station, tell the superintendent all about her, Miss Jessie."

"I certainly will," promised the Roselawn girl. "But we haven't even found Bertha yet, and we are not sure she is here."

Darry and the others had entered the grounds surrounding the stock farm buildings and they were gone some time. When they came back even Amy seemed despondent.

"I guess we were fooled, Jess," she said. "There is nobody here—not even a caretaker. I guess what we heard over the radio that time was a hoax."

"I don't believe it!" declared Jessie. "I just feel that Bertha Blair, little Henrietta's cousin, is somewhere here."

"And maybe she can't get away," said Henrietta. "I'd like to help Bertha run away from that fat woman."

"Let's take the kid in and let her call," suggested Burd.

"Sure you didn't see any aerial, Darry?" Mark asked, showing increased interest in the matter.

"Not a sign," said Drew, shaking his head.

"That tower——"

"Yes. It would make an ideal station. But I went all around it. I can't see the roof, for it is practically flat. And if what I suggested was there, we will have to get above the level of the roof to see it."

Mark suddenly got out and opened his toolbox. He brought forth a pair of lineman's climbers.

"Thought I had 'em here. I'll go up that telegraph pole and see what I can see," and he began to strap them on.

"Good as gold!" cried Burd admiringly. "You have a head on you, young fellow."

"Yes," said Mark dryly. "I was born with it."

He proceeded to the tall telegraph pole and swarmed quickly up it. The others waited, watching him as he surveyed the apparently deserted place from the cross-piece of the pole. By and by he came down.

"It's there, Darry," he said confidently. "Your big idea was all to the good. That folding wireless staff you use on the Marigold is repeated right on the top of that tower. When they use the sending set they raise the staff with the antenna and—there you have it."

"Oh! Then she's in the tower!" cried Amy.

"At least, she was in the tower if she sent her message from this station," agreed Darry.

"How shall we find out—how shall we?" cried Amy, excitedly.

"If Mr. Stratford is quite sure that he sees the aerials upon that roof, then I am going to get the tower door open somehow," declared Jessie, with her usual determination.

"It is there, Miss Jessie," Mark assured her.

"Come on, Henrietta," said Jessie, helping the little girl to jump down from the car. "We are going to find your Cousin Bertha if she is here."

"You are real nice to be so int'rusted in Bertha," said Henrietta.

"I am interested in her particularly because Daddy Norwood needs her," admitted the older girl. "Come on now, honey. We'll go up to that tower building and you shout for Bertha just as hard as you can shout. She will know your voice if she doesn't know you in your new dress," and she smiled down at the little girl clinging to her hand.



JUST IN TIME



CHAPTER XXV

JUST IN TIME

It seemed as though if there really was anybody left in charge of the Gandy house and premises, such a caretaker would have appeared before this to demand of the party of young folks from Roselawn what they wanted. As Jessie Norwood walked up the lane, with little Henrietta by the hand and followed by Darrington Drew, she saw no person at any window or door.

The tower might have been abandoned years before, as far as appearance went. But Mark Stratford's discovery seemed to make it plain that the tower was sometimes in use.

Jessie noted that the tower stood on a knoll behind the house from which vantage the race track some quarter of a mile away might be seen. With good field glasses one might stand in the second story of the tower and see the horses running on the track. Then, if there was a sending radio set in the tower, the reports of races could be broadcasted in secret code to sets tuned to the one in the tower.

Of course, if the radio instrument was so illegally used, it was only so used while the races were being held at the Harrimay Track. Then the folding aerials were raised and made use of. The cry for help that had been broadcasted and which Jessie and Amy had heard might have been sent out from this station some night when Martha Poole or her friends had neglected to shut off the aerial by dropping it flat upon the roof of the tower.

The question now was, had Bertha stolen her way into the tower at that time, or was she held prisoner there? Evidently Martha Poole and Sadie Bothwell were determined to hold the girl until after the court had settled in their favor the Ellison will case.

Jessie and those with her came to the foot of the tower. All the lower windows were boarded up and the door was tightly closed. There were shades at the upper windows, and they fitted tightly.

"You call Bertha, honey," said Jessie. "Tell her we've come to let her out. Did you try that door, Darry?"

"Not much! We don't want to be arrested for trying to commit burglary."

"Shout for Bertha, Henrietta," commanded Jessie.

Immediately the little girl set up a yell that, as Burd declared, could have scarcely been equaled by a steam calliope.

"Bertha! Bertha Haney! Come out and see my new dress!"

That invitation certainly delighted Amy and Burd. They sat in the car and clung to each other while they laughed. Little Henrietta's face got rosy red while she shouted, and she was very much in earnest.

"Bertha! Bertha Haney! Don't you hear me? I got a new dress! And we've come to take you home. Bertha!"

Suddenly the lower door of the tower opened a crack. An old, old woman, and not at all a pleasant looking woman, appeared at the crack.

"What you want?" she demanded. "Go 'way! Martha Poole didn't send you here."

Jessie spoke up briskly. "We've come to see Bertha. This is her little cousin. You won't refuse to let her see Bertha, will you?"

"There ain't nobody here but a sick girl. She ain't to be let out. She ain't right in her head."

"I guess that is what is the matter with you," said Darry Drew, sternly. He had come nearer, and now, before the woman could shut the door, he thrust his foot between it and the jamb. "We're going to see Bertha Blair. Out of the way!"

He thrust back the door and the old woman with it. They heard a muffled voice calling from upstairs. Little Henrietta flashed by the guardian of the tower and darted upstairs.

"Bertha! Bertha! I'm coming, Bertha! I got a new dress!"

"You better go up and see what's doing, Jess," said Darry. "I'll hold this woman down here."

Jessie was giggling, although it was from nervousness.

"And I thought you did not want to be considered a burglar?" she said as she passed hastily in at the door.

"Oh, well, we're in for it now," Darry called after her. "Be as quick as you can."

Jessie found a door open at the top of the flight. Henrietta was chattering at top speed somewhere ahead. The rooms were dark, but when Jessie found the room in which Henrietta was, she likewise found a girl bound to a chair in which she sat, with a towel tied across her mouth which muffled her speech.

"Here's Bertha! Here's Bertha!" cried Henrietta eagerly.

Jessie had the girl free and the towel off in half a minute. She saw then that the prisoner was the girl she and Amy had seen carried away by Martha Poole and Sadie Bothwell, out of Dogtown Lane.

"Oh, Miss! is this little Hennie? And have you come to take me away?" gasped Bertha.

"Surely. Are you Bertha Blair?"

"Yes, ma'am. Hennie calls me Bertha Haney. For I lived with her mom after my mother died. But my name's Blair."

"My father is Robert Norwood, the lawyer," said Jessie swiftly. "He wants you to testify in court about what you heard when that old man made his will at Mrs. Poole's house."

"Oh! You mean Mr. Abel Ellison? A gentleman came and asked me about that once, and then Mrs. Poole said I'd got to keep my mouth shut about it or she'd put me away somewhere so that I'd never get away."

"So I ran away from her," said Bertha, "and tried to go to Dogtown and see Hennie and the Foleys. Why! wasn't you one of the girls, Miss, that saw Mrs. Poole putting me into that car?"

"Yes," sighed Jessie. "I saw it, but couldn't stop it."

"Well, they brought me right out here, and I've been here ever since. When Mrs. Poole isn't here that old woman comes and keeps me from running away."

"But once," Jessie suggested, "you had a chance to try to send out a cry for help?"

"There's a radio here. They used it one night. Then I tried to call for help over it. But they heard me and stopped it at once."

"Just the same, that attempt of yours is what has brought us here to-day. I will tell you all about it later. Come, Bertha! We will get you away from here before Mrs. Poole comes. And we must take you to the city to see my father at once."

As they left the tower and the ugly old woman, they heard the latter calling a number into the telephone receiver. She was probably trying to report the outrage to Mrs. Poole.

"But the woman will never dare call the police," Darry assured Jessie. "You tell your father all about it, and he'll know what to do."

"And we must see Daddy Norwood as soon as possible," the girl said. "I must take Bertha to him. The case is already in court."

"I'll fix that for you, Miss Jessie," Mark Stratford said. "I can get you to town just as quickly as the traffic cops will let me—and they are all my friends."

Darry considered that he should go, too. So they dropped Amy and little Henrietta, with Burd Alling, at Roselawn, and after a word to Momsy, started like the flight of an arrow in Mark's powerful car for New York.

Jessie and Bertha Blair had never ridden so fast before. Mark Stratford knew his car well, and coaxed it along over the well-oiled roads of Westchester at a speed to make anybody gasp.

But haste was necessary. They knew where the court was, and they arrived there just after the noon recess. Mrs. Norwood had reached her husband's chief clerk by telephone, and he had communicated the news to the lawyer. Mr. Norwood had dragged along the prosecution until the missing witness arrived. Then he introduced Bertha Blair into the witness chair most unexpectedly to McCracken and his clients.

If Mr. Norwood's side of the argument needed any bolstering, this was supplied when Bertha was allowed to tell her story. The judge even advised the girl, or her guardians if she had any, that she had a perfectly good civil case against Martha Poole for imprisoning her in the tower on the Gandy farm.

These matters, however, did not interest Jessie Norwood and her friends much. They had been able to assist Mr. Norwood in an important legal case, and naturally everybody, both old and young, was interested in Bertha Blair, the girl who had been imprisoned. Momsy said she would put on her thinking cap about Bertha's future.

Meanwhile Bertha and little Henrietta went back to the Foleys for a while. Henrietta was bound to be the most important person of her age in all of Dogtown. No other little girl there was the possessor of such finery as she had.

What Mark Stratford had said to Jessie about Superintendent Blair kept recurring to the Roselawn girl, and she felt that she should tell the man who had charge of the Stratford Electric Corporation radio program about the girl who had been rescued from the horsewoman. As we meet Jessie and Amy and Bertha and all their friends in another volume, called "The Radio Girls on the Program; Or, Singing and Reciting at the Sending Station," in all probability Jessie Norwood will do just that.

"You girls," Darry Drew said to Jessie and Amy, "have got more radio stuff in your heads than most fellows I know. Why, you are as good as boys at it."

"I like that!" exclaimed his sister. "Is there anything, I'd like to know, that girls can't beat boys at?"

"One thing," put in Burd Alling solemnly.

"What's that?"

"Killing snakes," said Burd.

"Wrong! Wrong!" cried Jessie, laughing. "You ought to see little Henrietta attack a flock of snakes. She takes the palm."

"Think of it, a little girl like that going after snakes!" murmured Burd. "She must have nerve!"

"She has," declared Jessie. "And she is as clever as can be, too, in spite of her odd way of expressing herself."

"I wonder what they'll do about Bertha Blair," came from Darry.

"She certainly had an adventure," observed Burd. "Maybe the movie people will want her—or the vaudeville managers. They often pick up people like that, who have been in the limelight."

"I don't think Momsy will allow anything of that sort," returned Jessie. "I'm sure she and Daddy will think up something better."

Suddenly Amy, who was resting comfortably in the porch hammock, leaped to her feet.

"I declare! I forgot!" she cried.

"Forgot what?" came in a chorus from the others.

"Forgot that special concert to-day—that one to be given over the radio by that noted French soprano. You know who I mean—the one with the unpronounceable name."

"Oh, yes!" ejaculated Jessie. "Let me see—what time was it?" She consulted her wrist watch. "I declare! it starts in five minutes."

"Then come on and tune in. I've been thinking of that concert ever since it was advertised. Miss Gress, the music teacher, heard her sing in Paris and she says she's wonderful. Come on. Will you boys come along?"

"Might as well," answered Darry. "We haven't anything else to do."

"And I like a good singer," added Burd.

In another moment all were trooping up to Jessie's pretty room where she had her receiving set. The necessary tuning in was soon accomplished and in a minute more all were listening to a song from one of the favorite operas, rendered as only a great singer can render it. And here, for the time being we will say good-bye to the Radio Girls of Roselawn.

THE END



CLASSIC SERIES

Heidi By Johanna Spyri

Treasure Island By Robert Louis Stevenson

Hans Brinker By Mary Mapes Dodge

Gulliver's Travels By Jonathan Swift

Alice in Wonderland By Lewis Carroll

Boys and girls the world over worship these "Classics" of all times, and no youth is complete without their imagination-stirring influence. They are the time-tested favorites loved by generations of young people.

The Goldsmith Publishing Co.

NEW YORK, N. Y.



Books for GIRLS

THE PEGGY STEWART SERIES

By GABRIELLE E. JACKSON

Against the colorful background of Annapolis and a picturesque southern estate, Gabrielle E. Jackson paints the human and lovely story of a human and lovely girl. Real girls will revel in this wholesome tale and its enchanting telling.

Peggy Stewart at Home Peggy Stewart at School

The Motor Girls Series

By MARGARET PENROSE

A dashing, fun-loving girl is Cora Kimball and she is surrounded in her gypsy-like adventures with a group of young people that fairly sparkle. Girls who follow their adventurous steps will find a continuing delight in their doings. In the series will be found some absorbing mysteries that will keep the reader guessing so that the element of supense is added to make the perusal thoroughly enjoyable.

The Motor Girls On Tour At Lookout Beach Through New England On Cedar Lake On the Coast On Crystal Bay On Waters Blue At Camp Surprise In the Mountains

Helen In the Editor's Chair

By RUTHE S. WHEELER

"Helen in the Editor's Chair" strikes a new note in stories for girls. Its heroine, Helen Blair, is typical of the strong, self-reliant girl of to-day. When her father suffers a breakdown and is forced to go to a drier climate to recuperate, Helen and her brother take charge of their father's paper, the Rolfe Herald. They are faced with the problem of keeping the paper running profitably and the adventures they encounter in their year on the Herald will keep you tingling with excitement from the first page to the last.

The Goldsmith Publishing Company

NEW YORK, N. Y.



Books for GIRLS

The Merriweather Girls Series

By LIZETTE EDHOLM

The Merriweather girls, Bet, Shirley, Joy and Kit are four fun-loving chums, who think up something exciting to do every minute.

The romantic old Merriweather Manor is where their most thrilling adventures occur. The author has given us four exceptional titles in this series—absorbing mysteries and their solutions, school life, horseback riding, tennis, and adventures during their school vacations.

EVERYGIRL'S SERIES

Grouped in the Everygirl's Series are five volumes selected for excellence. Shirley Watkins, Caroline E. Jacobs and Blanche Elizabeth Wade contribute stories that are both fascinatingly real and touched with romance. Every girl who dips into one of these stories will find herself enthralled to the end.

The S. W. F. Club—By Caroline E. Jacobs Jane Lends a Hand—By Shirley Watkins Nancy of Paradise Cottage—By Shirley Watkins Georgina Finds Herself—By Shirley Watkins

THE PEGGY STEWART SERIES

By GABRIELLE E. JACKSON

Against the colorful background of Annapolis and a picturesque southern estate, Gabrielle E. Jackson paints the human and lovely story of a human and lovely girl. Real girls will revel in this wholesome tale and its enchanting telling.

Peggy Stewart at Home Peggy Stewart at School

The Goldsmith Publishing Company

NEW YORK, N. Y.



Books for GIRLS

THE MERRIWEATHER GIRLS SERIES

By LIZETTE EDHOLM

The Merriweather girls, Bet, Shirley, Joy and Kit are four fun-loving chums, who think up something exciting to do every minute.

The romantic old Merriweather Manor is where their most thrilling adventures occur. The author has given us four exceptional titles in this series—absorbing mysteries and their solutions, school life, horseback riding, tennis and adventures during their school vacations.

The Merriweather Girls and the Mystery of the Queen's Fan The Merriweather Girls on Campers Trail The Merriweather Girls in Quest of Treasure The Merriweather Girls at Good Old Rock Hill

CAMPFIRE GIRLS SERIES

By MARGARET PENROSE

These stories take in the activities of several bright girls who become interested in all present day adventures.

Campfire Girls of Roselawn Campfire Girls on Program Campfire Girls on Station Island Campfire Girls at Forest Lodge

EVERYGIRL'S SERIES

Grouped in the Everygirl's Series are five volumes selected for excellence. Shirley Watkins, Caroline E. Jacobs and Blanche Elizabeth Wade contribute stories that are both fascinatingly real and touched with romance. Every girl who dips into one of these stories will find herself enthralled to the end.

The S. W. F. Club——By Caroline E. Jacobs Jane Lends a Hand——By Shirley Watkins Nancy of Paradise College—By Shirley Watkins Georgina Finds Herself—By Shirley Watkins

The Goldsmith Publishing Company

NEW YORK, N. Y.