They found Jimmy Smith in the stable leaning over Gabriel’s stall and talking to him in low tones. The lad stepped back and lifted his cap from his head as the two girls approached.

“Are you telling Gabriel that he must win the Derby, Jimmy?” asked Shirley with a bright smile.

“Yes, Miss,” was the reply. “Gabriel and I have many talks, and he always promises me that he will win.”

“But, suppose he should lose?”

“He can’t lose,” said Jimmy decisively.

“Are you sure?” asked Shirley sharply.

Jimmy looked at her queerly.

“Why—I—yes—of course he can’t,” he stammered.

“But suppose something should happen?” persisted Shirley.

“What do you mean?” asked Jimmy, plainly startled.

“Oh, nothing,” said Shirley, and changed the subject abruptly.

“Jimmy,” she said a few moments later, “I wish you would go up in the loft and see how much hay there is up there.”

“All right, Miss,” said the boy, and reached for his coat, which hung over the stall door.

“You don’t need the coat,” said Shirley. “Hurry up, please. Dad is anxious to know right away.”

Without another word, but with a sidelong glance at the coat, Jimmy hastened to obey. He clambered up the ladder quickly.

Hardly had his hand disappeared when Shirley stepped quickly forward and took up the coat. Rapidly she explored the pockets, one after another, and, at last, drawing forth a small piece of paste-board, she gave a little cry of triumph.

“I have it,” she whispered to Mabel.

She slipped the card into her dress, and hastily put the coat back where she had found it. She was leaning over the stall door talking to Gabriel when Jimmy came down the ladder.

“Plenty of hay for two weeks, Miss Shirley,” said Jimmy.

He reached out cautiously and picked up his coat, which he donned with an audible sigh of relief.

“All right, then,” said Shirley. “Come, Mabel, we may as well go.”

She gave Gabriel another little pat, and led the way from the stable.

“I feel like I had picked somebody’s pocket,” Shirley confided to Mabel, as they made their way back toward the house.

“You have,” replied her friend, “and I don’t know whether you were right or not.”

“The end will justify the means,” said Shirley quietly. “It’s for Jimmy’s own good, for my father’s good, and for the good of others. I am sure I did no wrong.”

They sat down on the porch and talked for some moments.

“Look,” said Mabel suddenly, “here comes Jimmy. I wonder what is the matter with him. He seems to be looking for something.”

In truth, he did seem to be looking for something. The boy seemed greatly excited, and his eyes roved about the ground as he approached.

“It’s the card he misses,” said Shirley. “He thinks he has lost it.”

“You don’t suppose he suspects us, do you?”

“I hope not.”

Jimmy was close to them now, and Shirley called out: “What’s the matter, Jimmy? Lost something?”

Jimmy, unaware of their presence until then, looked up in confusion.

“No—no, Miss Shirley,” he stammered, and disappeared.

“Poor Jimmy,” said Shirley. “One evil leads to another. He was forced to lie, you see. Come, Mabel, let’s go upstairs and have a look at this card, and figure out a letter to Mr. Jones that will do the work.”

Mabel followed her friend up the stairs, where both sat down, and Shirley produced the card.

“Mr. A. B. Jones,” she read, “Fifth Avenue Hotel, Louisville, Ky.”

“Very well, Mr. Jones,” she said, “we shall attend to your case.”

She turned to Mabel. “What do you think?” she asked. “Would it be better to ask him to meet me in Paris, Lexington, or where?”

“I don’t know,” replied Mabel. “But it seems to me that Paris is pretty close to your home. Besides, Jimmy is well known in Lexington also.”

“True,” said Shirley. “I think I shall select Cincinnati.”

“Goodness,” said Mabel, “that is a long ways.”

“So it is,” said Shirley, “but I can make an excuse to go there. I can tell father we are going to spend a couple of days with Clara Morton. He will not object.”

“Suit yourself,” said Mabel. “I reckon it might as well be there as any place else. It probably will be safer too. We can stay with Clara while there.”

“My idea exactly,” said Shirley. “Now let’s see if I can write the proper kind of a letter.”

She drew forth some paper—and wrote long and earnestly. Sheet after sheet she tore up, but at last, with a little cry of satisfaction, she took the last sheet, upon which she had just written, and passed it to Mabel.

“I think that will do very well.”

Mabel read:

“Mr. A. B. Jones:—Dear Sir:—I have considered your offer. I shall be in Cincinnati, Palace Hotel, Friday. If offer is still open, meet me in the lobby at 6 o’clock Friday night. I am going to Cincinnati on an errand for Miss Willing.

“Jimmy Smith.”

Mabel read the letter over several times.

“I guess it is all right,” she said at last. “There is only one thing I would suggest.”

“What is it?”

“I would add a line and say, ‘Under no circumstances write me!’”

“Good,” said Shirley. “I’ll do it.”

She did, and then addressing an envelope, the two girls walked up to the mail box at the pike and waited the passing of the rural mail carrier. They did not wish the letter to remain in the box unguarded, because some one might see it.

But with the letter in the mailman’s hands, Shirley felt more comfortable. The two girls walked back to the house.

“With good luck,” said Shirley, “that is, if Dad doesn’t object, we should be able to leave here Thursday morning. We will send Clara a telegram from town telling her to meet us. Now we’ll go and see what Dad has to say.”

“So you want to go away again, eh?” said Mr. Willing, after Shirley had suggested the trip. “And how long do you want to be gone?”

“Until Sunday or Monday, Dad,” said Shirley.

“Well,” said Mr. Willing, after a long pause, “I can see no reason why you cannot go if Mr. Ashton doesn’t object.”

“I am sure he won’t,” said Mabel.

“Better go and ask him then,” said Mr. Willing.

Mabel hurried to obey, and returned in a few moments with her father’s consent.

“You want to go Thursday?” asked Mr. Willing. “Why, that’s day after to-morrow.”

“I know that,” said Shirley with a smile.

“All right,” said Mr. Willing. “I am going to town this afternoon. I’ll send Clara a telegram myself to meet you.”

The matter settled, Shirley and Mabel began their preparations for the trip.

“I don’t anticipate much trouble,” said Shirley. “Of course you never can tell just what will happen, and for that reason I am going to take my little pocket revolver.”

“Then I shall take mine, too,” said Mabel.

“That is hardly necessary,” said Shirley, “for, of course, I shall see Mr. Jones alone.”

“Aren’t you going to let me go with you?” demanded Mabel.

“No,” said Shirley, “that might spoil everything. Mr. Jones might suspect something even if he didn’t recognize either of us.”

“But I can’t let you face the danger alone,” protested Mabel.

“Who said anything about danger?” demanded Shirley.

“Why, didn’t you?” asked Mabel.

“No.”

“Then why do you take your revolver?”

“Well,” said Shirley with a smile, “it is always best to be prepared for the unexpected.”

“Well, I suppose you will have it your own way,” said Mabel.

Shirley smiled.

“In this, yes,” she replied.

The two days passed slowly for both girls, but at length the time came to go. The first thing in the morning, making sure that Jimmy was in the stable, Shirley made her way to his room and appropriated one of his old suits—one that she was sure he would not miss. This she packed in her suitcase.

“I shall have to buy a wig in Cincinnati,” she told Mabel.

Clara met the girls at the train, and they were soon whirled to her Walnut Hills home in a large automobile. There they were to remain until the following afternoon, when Mabel would accompany Shirley downtown.

The next day, shortly before five o’clock, Shirley slipped her dress on over her suit of boy’s clothes, and leaving Clara behind in spite of many protests, the two girls took the street car down town. On Fourth Street they found a little store where Shirley was fortunate enough to find a wig of the right shade.

In a secluded corner in the railroad station, when there was no one near, Shirley quickly stripped off her dress and stood revealed in her boy’s clothing. Donning wig and cap, she handed Mabel the discarded dress to put into the satchel brought for that purpose.

“Now,” said Shirley, “go back to Clara’s and, under some pretext or other, wait on the porch for me after every one has gone to bed. I’ll not come until I am sure they have all retired.”

“All right,” Mabel agreed, “and, Shirley, be very careful.”

“I shall be, never fear,” was the reply, and the young girl bade her friend good-bye and started for the rendezvous.