During the month following Alexander's researches into history, no further progress was made in solving the mystery that absorbed the Antiquarian Club. The Christmas holidays came and went, and the severer winter weather held the city in such a grip that often, for days on a stretch, Margaret could not be wheeled out in her chair. Under the combined strain of confinement to the house and lack of any further stimulating excitement, she grew very restless and just a wee bit unhappy. The girls and Alexander were very busy with their midwinter examinations, and could not give much time to other interests, even such absorbing ones as the long-ago Alison and her fate.

But, with the beginning of February, matters improved. The weather moderated, to begin with, the sun shone daily, and Margaret could again enjoy her outing of an hour in the sunny part of each early afternoon. The others also, released from the grind of much study and "cramming for exams," had leisure at last to give to the club-meetings, which they now held regularly three times a week. Alexander was not always with them, for the claims of hockey and skating and coasting often proved too much for his boyish soul to resist. But, for the most part, he managed to be on hand at least once a week, for his interest in the mystery was still very great.

They grew into the habit of reporting, at these meetings, any even slight discoveries they had happened to make, in their reading or in any other manner, that had the slightest bearing on the subject. Thus, Corinne contributed the following, that she had gleaned in looking over a history of New York City: in referring to Abraham Mortier, some one had once remarked that the expression "Laugh and grow fat!" did not apply to him, since, although he was very jolly, he was so thin that the wind could blow him away!

"That's interesting, but of course it doesn't help us much!" Corinne added apologetically. "But I thought anything about the Mortiers would be well to know. I'll warrant Madame Mortier was just the opposite—very fat and solemn!"

Alexander contributed the information that Thomas Hickey was hanged at a spot about where the corner of Grand Street and the Bowery is now. And so deep was his interest in this gruesome affair that he even made an excursion across the city one afternoon to visit the site!

Margaret found a description of Richmond Hill, written by Mrs. John Adams during her residence there, in which she described at much length the beauty and attractiveness of the spot. Only the twins, who read but little, made no additions to the stock of information. This they apologized for by saying that they were no hand at such things, and about everything had been discovered already, anyhow!

Then Corinne invented another form of entertainment. This was that each member of the Antiquarian Club should, after due thought and consideration, invent an explanation of his or her own for the curious break in Alison's journal and her probable fate. The game proved an exceedingly diverting one, and every member took a separate meeting and expounded the particular solution that appealed to his or her imagination.

Corinne herself wove a romantic tale about Alison's having been captured that very night by the steward and Corbie while she was writing, how they carried her off, journal and all, and later fought over her book and tore it in two; how Alison was rescued by the mysterious "H." just in the nick of time, and was taken away to Bermuda to marry him and live happily ever after! But the mystery of the two halves of the journal and their strange hiding-places and the whereabouts of the sapphire signet she admitted she couldn't explain and didn't try to!

Alexander invented a lurid tale of Thomas Hickey discovering Alison in the act of writing her journal, tearing it in two in snatching it from her, and retaining the latter half. Phoebe then helped Alison to escape with her trunk and the other half and embark on some vessel that was later overhauled by pirates and scuttled, and Alison was made to "walk the plank"! This horrible ending so affected Margaret that she cried herself almost sick over it. And Alexander thereat was so conscience-stricken that he determined henceforth to keep his inventive powers under better control.

Margaret herself advanced the theory that, for some reason, Alison and Phoebe suddenly determined to tear the journal in two and each keep half of it as evidence in case anything should go amiss. That Phoebe hid her half in the beam, and Alison put hers in the trunk. Then they went and denounced the plot to Washington, and he was so grateful that he sent Alison right home to Bermuda, where she lived happily, having taken the signet with her, and giving away the trunk to some relative and forgetting all about the journal in the bottom. It was the relative who was shipwrecked and abandoned the trunk!

Again the twins, who had no gift of imagination, refused to offer any solution, though they were highly interested in the tales of the others. They both declared that they could think of absolutely no explanation, so what was the use of their trying? And on these grounds the others excused them. So the month passed, and then one day Margaret announced that she herself had made a discovery, and proceeded to tell of it.

"It all came about through Sarah wanting to wheel me over through Macdougal Street to-day and down Spring Street, because she had an important errand there. You know we never go through Macdougal Street, because it's so narrow and not nearly as nice and clean and sunny as our own and Varick Street. I actually don't think I've been over that way for three or four years! Well, just as we were passing a house between this block and Van Dam, I looked up at it, and what do you think I saw?—the brass sign near the front door—"Richmond Hill House"! I couldn't imagine for a moment what it meant. But I asked Sarah if she knew what the place was, and she said it was a settlement-house, with a day-nursery and clubs for the children and things like that in it.

"I asked why it was called that name, and she said she didn't know—thought it was a silly one and didn't mean anything. But I knew—though I didn't say so! Somebody who knows about history has called it that because it stands almost on the grounds where Richmond Hill used to be. But oh, girls! think how much trouble and wondering and hunting it would have saved us, if we'd only known about that house at first! It would have suggested the thing to us right away!"

"Huh!" remarked Alexander, disgustedly. "I knew about that old joint right along—ever since I lived here! I could have told you a thing or two, if you'd only consulted yours truly sooner!"

"Well, never mind!" said Corinne, soothingly. "Maybe we did get at things in a roundabout, clumsy fashion; but we got there, just the same, and we had a good time doing it, too! But now I've something brand-new to say, and I want you all to listen very attentively. This is a matter that needs a lot of careful consideration. We've about come to the end of our rope, as far as making any further progress with this mystery is concerned. We've been having a lot of fun and entertainment out of it, of course, with these stories of our own, and all that sort of thing. But we're not 'getting any forrarder,' as Dickens says; and do you know, I'm beginning to think that perhaps we're not doing just right in keeping this all to ourselves!"

Here Margaret started and gave her a reproachful look. Corinne put an arm over the invalid girl's shoulder and continued:

"Honey dear, I know you think I'm playing the traitor, and trying to spoil our delightful secret society, but I'm really not; and if you'll hear me to the end, I believe you'll feel the same as I do. I've been doing a lot of hard thinking about this matter lately. Perhaps you haven't realized it, but I am certain that this old journal we've found is really a very valuable thing—not only valuable in the way of money (for many people would pay a great deal for a genuine old document like this), but also in the way of historical information. We're keeping to ourselves something that might really throw light on the past history of our city.

"Now, of course, I'm not certain about this, but I'd like to have the opinion of some grown person who really knows. And I've thought of a plan by which we could do this, and at the same time keep our secret society almost the same as it is now. It's this: I would like you all—and especially Margaret—to consent to my telling my father all about this, and, if he is willing (and I'm certain he will be), we can let him become a member of our Antiquarian Club. In that way, you see, we won't be breaking up our society—we will just be adding another member!"

"But he's a grown person!" objected Margaret, trying hard to keep the tears from rising. "And he wouldn't care a bit about a thing like this! And we'd feel so strange and—and awkward to have an older person in it!"

"Oh, but you don't know my father!" laughed Corinne. "To be sure, he's a grown person, but I never met any one who was more like a boy in his manner and interests and sympathies! Why, he's actually more boyish than lots of the young fellows in high school. He is deeply interested in young folks and their affairs; and if he weren't such an awfully busy man, he'd spend most of his time being with them. He and I are such chums! You ought to see us together when he's away on a vacation! He romps around with me as though he were only sixteen, and everything that interests me just absorbs him too. I believe you've thought, because I said he loved books and history and old things, that he's a regular old fogey that goes around stoop-shouldered and spectacled! He isn't a bit like that!"

"I got you, Steve!" ejaculated Alexander. "He must be some good sport! I vote we ring him in on this!"

Margaret, however, still looked only half convinced.

"But, if he's so busy," she ventured, "I don't see how he's ever going to find time to attend these meetings—even if he wanted to!"

"Of course," Corinne responded, "it would be impossible for him to get to our meetings, as a rule, but I know that he would be glad to hear all about them from me, and sometimes, on holidays, he'd be delighted to just get together with us all. And, what's more, I know he'd always have some interesting thing that he'd propose doing—something probably that we've never thought of!"

Margaret had, by this time, almost completely melted, but she had one further objection to offer:

"But, Corinne, he doesn't know us—not a thing about us, and he'd feel awfully strange and queer too, getting acquainted with a lot of brand-new young folks he's never even heard of before!"

And again Corinne had her answer, even for this.

"Wrong again, Honey!" she laughed. "Talk about his not knowing anything about you! Well, do you suppose for one wild minute that I've never told him about these loveliest friends I ever had? Why, every evening he and I talk for at least a couple of hours about every blessed thing that interests us. I've given him your whole history, described you all in every detail, told him how much I come here, and that we had an important secret society. The only thing I haven't told him is the secret! But I've done something else that I hope you won't mind—I've let him know that I was very anxious to have him admitted as a member, and that the secret was something he'd probably find very interesting. And, do you know, he's just crazy to be allowed in it, and is only waiting for the time when I'll come home some day bringing him the high permission of its dear president!"

Then, at last, did Margaret capitulate. How, indeed, could she hold out after having been presented with such an alluring picture of the latest member-to-be! Truth to tell, the desire was awakened in her heart to meet this delightful father, who was so young in spirit that his daughter considered him a "chum"! She gave her full consent that he was to be told everything that night, and Corinne departed in high feather. When she had gone, Margaret turned to the rest.

"It must be lovely," she sighed, "to have a father like that!"