The Whatnot Shop was quite powerless to prevent the invasion.

“We’ll push all the tables back and set the chairs around in a half-circle,” suggested the fluttered Nancy. “Then, it will be just like—”

“A play,” finished Isabel. “Too bad we can’t turn on a spot light.”

“I think it would be nice to let Mr. Townsend sit behind the counter on his old high stool,” Nancy further suggested. “It might make him feel at home. I wonder where we put that stool.”

“Away back in the corner under the three-cornered shelf,” Ruth informed her. “I rammed it in there myself.”

It was dragged out—the stool, and set just where it had been found when Nancy first took possession of the shop.

“A regular par-tee!” chanted Isabel. “Glad I happened to wear a white dress; being a deb and all that.”

“You may carry the white paper fan, little deb,” mocked Nancy. “We couldn’t sell it so I’d be delighted to donate it to your coming out party.”

“Oh, it isn’t mine, it’s yours,” chirped Isabel, “and I hope you are not going to wear that howling yellow gingham—”

“I am. Yellow’s my color,” and Nancy flipped the skirt of her dress around gaily.

They were preparing, as might easily be guessed, for the “private performance” promised by Mr. Sanders. Nancy had talked with him over the phone, after his visit to the class that morning, and arrangements were then made to invite the Townsends over, besides permission having been granted Ted to bring in his chum, Buster Clayton. Just now Ted was upstairs dressing; also singing and telling stories to Nero, most of which racket could be heard down in the store.

Mrs. Brandon’s cheeks became soft as damask when Nancy showed her the big check for one hundred dollars, which Nancy explained was in no sense a gift, but purely part of a business transaction between her and Mr. Ashley’s real-estate office. The mother did not try to hide her delight, that Nancy should have become such “a splendid little business woman,” and she predicted her own retirement from the office at an early date, if such wonderful achievements were to be kept up.

“And your bank account, my dear,” she told Nancy when they were in confidence over the developments, “aren’t you proud of it?”

“A little, Mother-mine,” faltered the happy girl, “but there’s something better than that,” she said shyly, for Nancy was not given to boasting.

“I know,” and the mother arms went around her. “Besides, you know now that even despised housework is not so bad when it has an interesting motive. That’s why we mothers tolerate it; because we are working for our darling children.”

“I know, Mums, but I really only thought 'dishes’ before, now I think—”

“The joy of helping us,” Mrs. Brandon supplied. “And I’m so proud of your cooking, and how much it has benefited Miss Manners, as well as your friends. Why, my dear, I would make you vain were I to tell you one-half of what I hear—”

“Not vain, Mums. I’m not silly enough for that, for I’ve got to admit I’ve been rather selfish all the way through—it has been such a lot of fun.”

And Nancy meant it. She was not posing, nor was she playing at being humble, for her mind was of that quality that reasons and analyzes one’s own motives as well as looking for motives in others. In that way she had acquired what is called “common sense,” perhaps because every one should try, at least, to possess a measure of it.

Now Mrs. Brandon, as well as Ted, was dressing. To please Nancy she had promised to wear her geranium georgette, a soft dress that toned so well with her dark hair and dark eyes, for Mrs. Brandon was still young, and a handsome woman.

And the girls were fairly dancing around the store, arranging chairs brought in from the porch, dining room and even from the kitchen.

“Let’s make a little platform for Mr. Sanders,” Ruth proposed. “This top step of the back stairs will do. We don’t have to open that door.”

“And have a stand and a glass of water—” Isabel added.

“And flowers,” insisted Nancy. “I must have flowers, they’re so silly for a man’s speech, they’ll make every body laugh.”

“Maybe hollyhocks would,” Ruth said, “but I doubt if your audience would see the joke if you put a bunch of roses there.”

So they progressed, until very soon, too soon for the girls, the company began to arrive.

Mr. and Miss Townsend, and little, brown, woolly Tiny came first.

“I’m afraid we’re early,” said the lady in her best silver silk dress and her very pretty new black-satin-trimmed-with-silver grapes, hat. She carried a little flat cushion for Tiny, out of respect for the silver silk dress.

“Mother will be down directly,” Nancy greeted Miss Townsend, in her very best manner. “Sit over here. We’ve fixed this corner for you.”

“Oh my!” exclaimed the lady in genuine admiration. “How lovely everything looks! However did you paint this old wood work white?”

“For our cooking class, you know,” replied Nancy, gaily. “Doesn’t it look—hygienic?”

“I—should—say—so!” Miss Townsend was aghast. “And I suppose, those spotless tables—”

“Are the old ones from around the porches and every place,” Nancy informed her. “We just daubed the legs white and covered the tops with oil cloth.”

“And I want to see that gas range. I’ve heard so much about it. Oh! there’s Miss Manners,” exclaimed Miss Townsend, “she’ll explain it to me, and you may run along, dear.” This was a release, not a dismissal for Nancy.

“She’ll buy one and that will be a good big discount for Manny,” Nancy told the girls who had heard most of the conversation.

“Yes. They’ve bought a new house—a brand spic-span new one,” Ruth whispered. “Father said Miss Townsend wanted the shiniest one he had for sale,” and there was a pardonable titter in response to that.

But guests were now arriving in pairs. There were Mr. and Mrs. Ashley, Ruth’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Duryee, Isabel’s parents, besides Ted, Buster and Nero, the latter three being promptly assigned by Ruth to the corner nearest the side door.

“So you can watch for prowlers,” she joked. “Some other folks might sneak up on the porch and listen in.”

“I’m all but stage struck,” panted Nancy, trying to force the little kicked-up curls around her ears back into place. “And girls, take your places!” she admonished. “Here comes—the—talent! Mr. Sanders and Sibyl!”

It really was taking on the look of some sort of entertainment,—for as Mr. Sanders and his daughter arrived there was a general presentation all around by Mrs. Brandon, while the girls, feeling very much like ushers at a school entertainment, stood with backs to the windows, just as they always did at school affairs.

The preliminary formalities over, Mr. Sanders was rather humorously conducted to the “platform.” This pleased Mr. Townsend “most to death” and he was heard to chuckle that “the old fire-house as town-hall had never held a better meeting.”

“I’ll not keep you in suspense, my friends,” began Mr. Sanders, without so much as clearing his throat, “but I’ll just introduce myself to those who don’t happen to know me. I’m Edwin Sanders of Eastern College, professor of science there.” There was a murmur through the room at that announcement.

“Professor!” was the surprised word it conveyed.

“And I came here to experiment,” the gentleman continued in a pleasantly matter of fact voice. “I found this little house had a direct air shaft, it runs from this room at that old fireplace down to the cellar, and out through an old-fashioned flue-door, you know the kind.”

“That’s a relic on this place,” spoke up Mr. Elmer Townsend. “It was built in here by a Dutch man from Holland—”

“Yes, and it’s a good one,” agreed Mr. Sanders. “Well, you see, my friends,” he continued, “I had to experiment on an extremely delicate little instrument,” he was all professor now, “so, when I found the exact conditions that I required here, I made an offer to the owner, Mr. Townsend.”

There was much shifting around and significant scraping of chairs at this point, but the speaker was in no way disturbed.

“I thought it only fair to tell him how important my experiment was, and what it would mean if it worked out as I expected. Well, it did,” he stated emphatically, “but not without the usual trouble that must be endured if we want to succeed in big things.”

Miss Townsend was whispering, or she thought she was, and her brother was trying to restrain her.

“I could not tell the nature of this work because there was a new secret principle involved in it,” Mr. Sanders said, having overheard, likely, what Miss Townsend was trying to tell her neighbor. “That was why Mr. Townsend and I had to keep our secret so close.”

Ted and Buster were visibly squirming in their chairs, they were so interested, but old Nero snoozed contentedly, not even suspecting apparently, the presence of another dog, Tiny, that was safely hidden in Miss Townsend’s cushion. And as if Mr. Sanders remembered Tiny, he next said:

“Even the little dog was so interested as we worked he would insist upon barking a tune for us. Sometimes we were afraid he might tell,” he finished, quizzically.

“That was it,” Ted privately told Buster. “Nancy said that puny, little dog barked all the time he was in here.”

“After I got my point worked out in this air shaft,” went on Mr. Sanders, who had actually taken a sip of water from the glass at his hand, “I was obliged to try it out in a very much more condensed atmosphere. And just there is where I was forced to excite such wild suspicions.” He was almost laughing at the recollection.

“It was funny; I’m willing to admit that myself, for like the King of France in the story, I marched up the hill, but unlike him, I did not march down again. And I’m surprised that no one seems to have guessed where I was hidden.”

There was a pause. Nancy’s face was betraying her suspicions but she uttered no word.

“Just once I was almost discovered,” continued Mr. Sanders. “And that was the other day when my cat—cried. Just then some one was passing—”

“I was,” blurted out Nancy. “And I heard you singing!”

Every one laughed.

“Was I singing, really?” asked the professor. “Well, I might have been for I was surely very happy. The anemometer was working beautifully down there, in my—cistern!”

“Cistern!” Every one seemed to cry out the word.

“He was in the cistern!” Nancy gasped. “That was where I heard the—noises coming from!”

“In the cistern!”

It took some time for the older folks to realize the significance of the revelation, but the girls and boys seemed instantly to understand.

“Yes, and you would be surprised what fine quarters I’ve had there. I have that nice, perfectly dry cistern actually furnished, even a rug on the floor! Chairs and a table, a looking glass—oh, you are all invited to inspect now,” announced the professor cheerily, “for my precious instrument has been safely shipped to the manufacturers, and I’ve been able—”

“He’s paid me more than a thousand dollars,” declared Mr. Townsend, rising from his chair and addressing the house, “and I think it’s only fair that folks around here should know how well I’ve made out on my investment.”

“Yes indeed,” Miss Townsend chimed in, “if any body in Long Leigh has heard me say I was worried about Brother Elmer’s money affairs,” she sort of hesitated before framing that term, “I just want them to know now that we’ve made more money by Mr. Sanders investment in six months, than we would make in six years in this little store.”

A burst of applause followed this. And presently every one seemed to be talking at once. The formality of the occasion was lost in a round of enthusiastic interest; the men demanding to know more about the invention, while the women and girls were keen to hear all about the cistern.

Sibyl was glad to tell them about the curious little work shop under the ground, and she soon had a group of the young folks listening to her story.

“I thought it was awful, at first,” she explained, “but, of course, I’m used to father’s peculiar experiments. He has invented some wonderful instruments,” she said this in a properly restrained voice. “They are being used in the college observatories, where they make weather predictions, you know,” she pointed out.

“And I did notice some little pipes sticking out of the sides of that cistern box,” Nancy now remembered. “I might have known, but I was too surprised to investigate,” she admitted frankly.

“Really girls,” Sibyl went on, “Dad has that cistern furnished like a room. You walk down a little ladder, and sit on a regular chair—”

“But isn’t it dark?” Ruth wanted to know.

“Oh, no. One whole side of the cover is glass, a side that is back away from the opening,” Sibyl told them. “No one would ever notice the glass there. And besides that, father had cut the concrete away, over on one side of the bowl, and there he made a little skylight. You would never notice that either, as there are bushes all around it,” she said.

By this time Ted and Buster were demanding to be heard. They had tried to get a hearing with the older folks, but according to Ted “the buzzing there was worse than a bee fight.”

“And say, Nan,” he called out now, “I just want to know about—about what Nero was after down the cellar, you know.”

Mr. Sanders was trying to make his way toward the girls just then, so Nancy delayed answering Ted.

“And say, Ted,” Mr. Sanders began. “About your dog. You needn’t worry that anyone will take him from you. That man who spoke to you used to be care-taker at the old stone house. And he was supposed to look after Nero, whose real name is Jason. That’s the fellow who went after the Golden Fleece you remember.”

“Jason?” repeated Ted. “Sounds like an auto fixer. I like Nero best.”

“All right, son,” and Mr. Sanders gave Ted a friendly slap on the shoulders. “Nero he shall be. But as I was saying, the man who was expected to care for your dog hadn’t done so, and he’s got sort of worried lately and wanted to get him back.”

“He can’t have him,” Ted defended stoutly.

“No, that’s right; he can’t. And I told him so. He knows now that the dog is in good hands, and that I’ll answer any questions the Ellors family care to ask about him.”

Ted’s face was now beaming with joy. He had been so worried about Nero that he simply wouldn’t let the animal out of his protective sight for days past.

“And Mr. Sanders,” he insisted, “night before last Nero saved us from a flood. A water pipe broke right over there and Nero—made us all get up—”

“Night before last!” exclaimed the professor.

“Yes; and Nancy turned off the water—”

“That was the night I had my precious little air-meter right under this chimney,” said Mr. Sanders very slowly, “and if water had trickled through the floor, down onto that, it would have been ruined.”

“Then, just as Ted says,” Nancy spoke, “Nero really did save it, for there was a regular flood around this hearth.”

“You must have seen me leaving the grounds that afternoon,” Mr. Sanders admitted. “I was sure you did, but I wasn’t ready to tell my story—just then. But Ted, I’ll have to get you a fine collar for Nero—”

The girls were begging Nancy to make an announcement.

“Go on,” urged Ruth. “They’re all talking together and no one will listen unless you get up on the step.”

With this and considerable more urging, Nancy finally mounted the step. She smiled shyly at her mother as she passed along, for Mrs. Brandon, like the other “principals,” was having a busy time of it.

“I just want to say,” Nancy began with a little quaver in her voice, “that we’ve prepared some little cakes and punch as samples of our cooking class work, and we’ll be glad to have you all stay and try them.”

There was real applause at this, and mentioning the cooking class—was a signal for another outburst of comment from the ladies. They all believed in girls doing something during summer, and they did not believe in girls “wasting” an entire vacation.

“I think we ought to give a cheer for the girls,” Mr. Sanders proposed. “They have kept things going pretty lively around here this summer, just lively enough to save me from having been discovered.”

“And I’d like to say a word,” ventured timid Miss Manners. But the girls would not permit her to do so, Nancy, especially being fearful that the little lady’s gratitude, for the domestic science class and for Mrs. Brandon’s hospitality might become embarrassing.

“Any how,” said Buster to Ted, “we can have our dog.”

“And a dandy new collar,” appended Ted.

Nancy was waiting a chance to finish her announcements, and in a little lull she again called out:

“Mr. Sanders and Miss Sanders are entertaining tomorrow evening at the Waterfall House. Every body is invited! And you will be treated there to some real samples of our cakes!”

“Now I call that lov-el-lee,” declared Miss Townsend, shaking her new hat at every syllable. “And these cakes,” (the girls were passing them) “are de-lic-ious.”

Nancy was very happy. She tugged at her mother’s arm and cuddled her head against the loving shoulder, just as she had always done in her great moments.

“Isn’t it lov-ell-lee, Mums,” she whispered.

“A complete—success!” murmured the mother.

And the next morning half, if not all, of Long Leigh trooped up the hill to inspect the wonderfully outfitted and “infitted” cistern, that had so long escaped notice, on the grounds of the old, stone house.

“I was going to look down that cistern first chance I got,” Nancy confessed. “But being successful is such a busy—business,” she joked, “that I think it will be a delightful change to begin a real vacation with mother tomorrow.”