It was late when they neared Clara Morton’s home. As they approached quietly, a figure ran from the porch to meet them. It was Mabel.

“Shirley,” she cried, “I was so afraid that something had happened to you. I have been waiting here for more than an hour.”

“Well, something did happen,” said Shirley. “I’ll tell you about it when we get upstairs.”

“Come on, then,” said Mabel, “but be careful. I told Clara you probably wouldn’t be home until in the morning, and no one here must see you in that costume.”

Shirley turned to say good-bye to Dick, but there was no Dick. His duty done, he had not waited for thanks.

Shirley was disappointed.

“I would like to have said good-bye to him,” she told herself.

Silently the two girls made their way up the stairs, and reached their room without being discovered.

Mabel insisted upon an immediate account of Shirley’s adventures and the latter gave full details.

“You see,” she concluded, “it was all your fault. Why didn’t you remind me of my purse?”

“That’s right, blame me,” said Mabel. “I think you’ve had some jolly fun.”

“It depends on how you look at it,” drawled Shirley. “Oh, but I’m tired. Let’s get to sleep.”

The next two days, Saturday and Sunday, the girls spent quietly in their friend’s home, only going out twice. One trip was to the theater, and the other to church on Sunday morning.

Early Monday morning found them on the train.

A young man boarded the train at Cynthiana, who attracted Shirley’s attention at once. There was something familiar about him, but for the moment she could not place him. Looking in her handbag for her ticket, she accidentally drew forth a card, which she glanced at in surprise.

“Mr. Leonard Wolfe,” it read.

“I wonder,” she murmured, and then it all came to her in a flash.

“The card of the young man who came to my aid in the drugstore,” she said, passing it to Mabel. “That reminds me, I forgot to send the ten cents.”

“I reckon he won’t miss it,” said Mabel, as she returned the card.

The young man who had just gotten on the train, came through the aisle. He dropped his suitcase in the seat across from the girls, and sat down.

Shirley noticed that from time to time he glanced at her. To herself she said, “His face is familiar. Where have I seen him before?”

And then she remembered.

“Mr. Wolfe!” she exclaimed to herself.

She whispered to Mabel, and the latter, of course, glanced across. As she did so she encountered the young man’s smiling eyes.

The young man arose directly and spoke to Shirley.

“Surely I have met you somewhere,” he said.

“Perhaps it’s my twin brother you met,” said Shirley, with a faint smile. “We look very much alike.”

“Perhaps that’s it,” returned the young man.

“Yes,” continued Shirley, “my twin brother is often getting into scrapes, and I have to help him out. He told me that the other day he almost fell into the hands of the police, because he didn’t have money to pay for a soda he bought in a drugstore in Cincinnati. Some stranger came to his aid and paid the dime. I don’t believe he returned it, either.”

The young man had looked at Shirley in surprise during this recital, and then he said quietly:

“No, he didn’t!”

“How do you know?” queried Shirley in well simulated surprise.

“Because I happen to be the fellow who paid it.”

Before answering Shirley reached for her handbag and took out a card. She gazed at it long and earnestly.

“Is your name Mr. Wolfe?” she asked finally.

“Why, yes,” exclaimed the young man. “Why?”

“Nothing, only my brother, in telling me of the trouble, showed me your card and I didn’t give it back.”

She drew a dime from her purse and extended it to the young man.

“Here is your ten cents,” she said.

Mr. Wolfe protested.

“Let your brother pay his own debts,” he said.

“No,” said Shirley, “I insist. You see, my brother and I are such close relations that I almost feel I owe you this myself.”

“Well, if you insist,” said the young man.

He took the dime and dropped it in his pocket.

“May I ask where you are going?”

“Home,” said Shirley briefly, for she wished to end the conversation, considering now that she had repaid her debt.

“I see,” smiled Mr. Wolfe; “and would you mind telling me just about where that is.”

“I’ll tell you this much,” said Shirley. “It’s about three miles from Paris, on the Bethlehem pike.”

The young man uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“I wonder if you know a Mr. Willing, who must live near you?”

“He is my father,” returned Shirley.

“You don’t say so! I am in luck, for I am going now to Willing’s place.”

Shirley felt frightened.

“You are?” she exclaimed.

“Yes.”

“On business?”

“Well, no, not exactly. You see, Mr. Willing and my father are old friends. Your father has often asked my father to stop and see him, and as I was near, I felt anxious to call.”

Shirley held out her hand.

“I know you now,” she said. “At first I didn’t associate you with the Mr. Wolfe of whom father speaks so often, his old college friend.”

“I am the son of his old friend,” said Mr. Wolfe.

“You will be very welcome,” said Shirley.

She introduced him to Mabel, who had been much interested in their talk.

Mr. Wolfe said after a few minutes, “I knew, of course, that Mr. Willing had a daughter, but I had never heard of twins.”

“Twins!” repeated Shirley.

“Yes; this troublesome brother of yours.”

Shirley blushed.

“I—we—he,” she stammered.

Mr. Wolfe looked at her for a few moments, then a smile spread over his face.

“I see,” he said.

“You see what?” demanded Shirley anxiously.

“The joke,” replied young Wolfe drily.

Shirley blushed, and hid her head in her hands.

“Have no fear,” said the young man, “I shall say nothing about it. If you care to tell me why you masqueraded, I shall be honored, but I shall not press you for an explanation; and I will never mention it.”

“Thank you,” said Shirley. “There is no reason why I cannot tell you, if you will promise to keep the secret.”

“I promise,” said he.

Shirley then gave him an account of her adventures and their cause. When she finished, young Wolfe looked at her in undisguised admiration.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “You are plucky. And you are doing all this for the boy you call Jimmy Smith?”

“And my father too,” said Shirley.

“Yes,” said Wolfe, “you are indeed a brave girl, and I am proud to know you.”

The train was now whistling for Paris.

“You will, of course, ride out with us,” said Shirley.

“I shall be pleased,” returned the young man, with a bow.

Mr. Willing met them as they stepped from the train.

Then he saw the young man. He looked at him long and earnestly, and then before either of the girls could speak, he said:

“Surely this is Leonard Wolfe?”

“I am,” said the young man, smiling and extending his hand.

“I thought I could not be mistaken,” said Mr. Willing. “You are your father all over again.”

He turned to Shirley.

“Mr. Wolfe,” he said, “allow me to introduce you to my daughter.” He turned to Mabel, “and——”

“We have already met, Daddy,” laughed Shirley. “Mr. Wolfe made himself known to us on the train.”

“But how——” began Mr. Willing.

“Never mind now, Daddy,” said Shirley. “It’s a long story.”

“Well,” muttered Mr. Willing to himself, “all right, but the young people now-a-days aren’t like they were in my day.”

Then he climbed into the large automobile and Frank started it.