r she has done
anything worthy of publication or not. If the name isn't printed, we've
made an enemy; and, if it is, the paper is sure to suffer more or less
ridicule."

"That is quite true, my dear," responded Louise, the reporter. "I've
said everything, about every one of them, that has ever happened, or
threatened to happen, since we started the paper, and it is driving me
crazy to discover anything more about these stupid natives that will do
to print."

Hetty had overheard this conversation and now looked up with a smile.

"Has your 'local happenings' column been prepared for to-morrow, Mrs.
Weldon?" she inquired.

"No; I'm about to start out to unearth some items," replied Louise,
wearily.

"Let me do it for you. I've an hour or so to spare and I won't need to
leave my desk," suggested the artist.

"It is my duty, you know, Hetty, and I've no right to evade it."

"Evade it for to-day. Go home and rest. I'll do your column for
to-morrow, and after the vacation you can tackle the thrilling
situations with better courage."

"Thank you, Hetty. But I won't go home. I'll wait here to see Fogerty."

"Fogerty!" exclaimed the artist, with a start of surprise. "Do you mean
the detective?"

"Yes," said Louise, regretting she had inadvertently mentioned the
name.

"But what is there now to detect?" asked Hetty suspiciously. "Our
troubles seem ended with the burning of the mill and the flitting of
Skeelty and his workmen."

Louise hardly knew how to reply; but Patsy, who trusted the queer girl
artist, said quite frankly:

"There remains the mystery of Thursday Smith to fathom, you know."

Hetty flushed and an indignant look swept over her face.

"What right has anyone to solve that mystery?" she asked defiantly.
"Isn't that Thursday Smith's own business?"

"Perhaps," returned Patsy, somewhat amused; "but Smith hasn't been able
to discover who he is--or was, rather--and seems really anxious to
know."

Hetty bent over her desk for a time. Then she looked up and her thin
features were white and drawn with anxiety.

"When you discover who Thursday Smith is," said she, "the Millville
Tribune will lose its right bower."

"Why?"

"Before his accident, or whatever it was that made him lose his memory,
he was an unusual man, a man of exceptional ability. You know that."

"We are all inclined to admit it," answered Patsy. "But what then?"

"Men of ability," declared Hetty slowly, "are of two classes: the ve