."

"If findings were keepings you'd be well off," said Mollie. "How lucky
you are!" and sighed.

"Of course I can't keep it," decided Betty. "But I wonder who could
have dropped it?" and she looked up at the railroad bridge over their
heads, as if she might see some one standing there waiting for the
return of the bill.

"What is that paper pinned to it?" asked Grace, as she took hold of it
while Betty held the bank note by the two ends.

"That's so--I forgot to look at that," said the finder. She turned it
over. There was some writing on it. It said:

"_ This is my last five hundred dollar bill--all that is left of my
fortune. This is to remind me that if I don't make good use of this I
don't deserve any more luck. It is make or break with me now! Which
will it be?_"

The girls were silent for a moment or two after reading this strange
message that had come to them in such a queer manner. Then Betty said:

"Girls, what do you make of it?"

"It's a joke!" declared Grace.

"It sounds far from being a joke," spoke Betty, seriously. "Girls, there
may be a grim tragedy here."

"How romantic!" sighed Mollie. "What shall we do with the money?"

"We must take it home and consult our folks about it," decided Betty.
"I'll ask papa--and you might refer the question to yours, Amy. Being a
broker, he's quite likely to know about such things, and can tell us
what to do. This is quite a lot of money to lose, I wonder how we can
find the owner?"

"Advertise?"

"Maybe there'll be a notice in the post office."

"It can't have been here very long. Perhaps we'll meet whoever it belongs
to, coming back to look for it," spoke Grace.

Thus came some opinions, and while various others were rapidly formed and
expressed, and as the girls are speculating on how the bill, and the
attached paper, came to lie so openly on the highway, I hope I may be
permitted to insert here a little descriptive matter that will, perhaps,
give the reader a clearer understanding of the characters of this story.

And as Betty Nelson had, by right of more than one informal conquest,
reached the position of leader, I can do no better than begin with her.

Betty was about sixteen years old. She was not exactly what one would
call "pretty"--that is, at first glance. More likely she would have been
spoken of as "good-looking." At least by the boys. And certainly Betty
was good to look upon. Her face showed her character. There was a calm
thoughtfuln