utt, who figured as "not present,"
told marvelous tales of how he had worsted seven mill hands in a
stand-up fight, using only his invincible fists.

The following forenoon the liveryman at the Junction brought to
Millville a passenger who had arrived by the morning train--a quiet,
boyish-looking man with a shock of brick-red hair and a thin, freckled
face. He was driven directly to the Merrick farm, where Uncle John
received him cordially, but with surprise, and at once favored the new
arrival with a long interview in his private room.

The girls, who had not yet gone to the office, awaited somewhat
impatiently the result of this conference, for they already knew the
red-headed youth to be the great Fogerty--admitted by even his would-be
rivals, the king of New York detectives. Also they knew that Uncle John
had employed him some time ago to ferret out the mystery of the identity
of Thursday Smith, and the fact of Fogerty's presence indicated he had
something to report.

However, when Mr. Merrick came out of the private room his usually
cheery countenance wore a troubled expression. Fogerty was invariably
placid and inscrutable, so no explanation could be gleaned from his
demeanor.

"Ready for town, my dears?" asked Uncle John.

"Yes; the surrey is waiting," answered Louise.

"Then go along, and Fogerty and I will join you at the office presently.
I want to confer with the major and Arthur before--before taking any
steps to--"

"What's the news, Uncle?" demanded Patsy, impatiently.

"You shall know in good time."

"Who is Thursday Smith?"

"By and by, dear. Don't bother me now. But that reminds me; you are to
say nothing to--to--Thursday about Mr. Fogerty's arrival. Treat
him--Thursday, you know--just as you have always done, for the present,
at least. Whatever we determine on in regard to this man, during our
conference, we must not forget that he has acted most gallantly since he
came to Millville. We really owe him a debt of gratitude."

With this somewhat incomprehensible statement the girls were forced to
content themselves. Feeling quite helpless, they drove to the office
and left the men to settle the fate of Thursday Smith.

The "pressman" was now the man-of-all-work about the modest but trim
little publishing plant. He attended to whatever job printing came in,
made the etchings from Hetty's drawings, cast the stereotypes, made up
the forms and operated the press. But aside from this mechanical