sleep once in a while.”

“Oh yes, of course. Especially eat. What would Christmas be without eating?”

“What are you going to do now?” inquired her mother.

“Go coasting. Max and Norman are bringing the bobsled over in ten minutes, and Jane and I are supposed to be ready.”

“You better hurry, then. Get something to eat first. And—I forgot to tell you—your father wants to see you at half-past five this afternoon. Be sure to be home in time. He said he wanted to ‘consult’ you.”

“About somebody’s Christmas present? I thought all our Christmas shopping was finished last week.”

“It was. This hasn’t anything to do with presents, but it concerns your Christmas vacation, I believe,” replied Mrs. Gay.

“Oh, that sounds exciting!” exclaimed Mary Louise. Mr. Gay was a detective on the police force, and, knowing his daughter’s keen interest in the solution of crimes, he sometimes discussed his cases with her. Already she had shown marked ability in the same line herself by unraveling two baffling mysteries the preceding summer.

She ran out into the kitchen and poured out a glass of milk for herself and cut a piece of chocolate cake. This brisk weather certainly made her feel hungry, and the refreshments tasted good. Then she dashed upstairs to change into her “snow suit,” a long-trousered costume that happened to be popular with the older girls at the moment. When she was all ready she opened her side window and whistled to her chum, Jane Patterson, who lived across the snow-covered lawn in the house next door.

“Yo, Jane!” she called.

Immediately a corresponding window flew up, and a youthful face appeared at the enclosure.

“Ready!” was the reply. “The boys there yet?”

“I think I hear them,” returned Mary Louise. “Come on over.”

The windows were slammed down simultaneously, and the two girls dashed downstairs to their porches. Before they had finished putting on their goloshes, the boys were at the Gays’ house.

“Left the sled at the gate,” announced Max Miller, Mary Louise’s especial boy-friend in Riverside.

“Do you think the snow’s packed hard enough?” demanded Jane.

“Hope so,” returned Max, with a grin. “The kids were sledding last night over near Cooper’s woods, so they ought to have made a track. Anyhow, we can have some fun. You’ve just got to be outdoors, weather like this.”

They made their way across the yard, chatting about the school entertainment, their dates for the next two weeks, and the fun which Christmas always brought them. When they reached the hill where the coasting was the best, near Riverside, they found many of their other high-school friends, and for two hours they alternately rode down the steep incline at a breathtaking speed and then trudged slowly back to the top. The sun was setting, and the afternoon was gone before they knew it.

“Oh, I must go home!” exclaimed Mary Louise, glancing at her wrist-watch in amazement.

“It’s only five o’clock,” returned Max complacently. “You don’t eat at your house before six-thirty, do you?”

“Come on, Mary Lou!” called Jane. “All aboard!”

Her chum shook her head.

“I can’t, Jane. I’ve got to be home by five-thirty.”

“Why the rush?” demanded Max.

“I have to see my father. He left word with Mother for me to be there.”

“Oh, you can see him at supper,” observed Jane lightly. “You don’t want to break up the party, do you?”

“No, of course not. No need for that at all. I’ll just run along by myself. You people take some more rides.”

“Nix,” answered Max loyally. “You’re not going home alone past these woods. If you have to go, Mary Lou, I’ll go too.”

“Oh, we might as well all go,” said Jane. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be on time for a meal once in a while. Still, I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Max looked straight into Mary Louise’s eyes, a serious expression on his face.

“Mary Lou,” he asked, “you’re not doing any more detective stuff, are you? Surely last summer was enough!”

The girl laughed.

“Yes, it was plenty. Haven’t I been pretty good all fall? Never tried to listen in on any of Dad’s cases or hunt for clues!”

“I should think you’d be cured,” remarked Jane. “The whole town could burn down before I’d go through an experience like yours last summer, to discover a criminal. And if it hadn’t been for Max and Norman——”

“I owe them my life!” said Mary Louise, half seriously and half smilingly. But in her heart she felt a deep sense of gratitude to her two youthful rescuers.

“Max could use it,” remarked Norman slyly.

“I’ll say I could,” muttered the other young man fervently. “But you really don’t think you’ll do dangerous things again, do you, Mary Lou?” he asked eagerly. “You’ll leave the solving of mysteries and crimes to your father hereafter, won’t you?”

Mary Louise’s eyes twinkled.

“I’m not making any rash promises. It sort of gets into the blood, Max. There’s no other thrill like it. I’d rather solve a mystery than eat.... But I really don’t think there is anything for me to solve now. So you can put your mind at rest.”

“I’ll feel safer after this talk with your father is over,” returned the young man.

They came to a hill, and the subject was forgotten as they all piled on the sled and rode down together.

It was only a little past five-thirty when Mary Louise opened the door of her house. Her father was already there, beside the roaring logs in the fireplace, comfortably smoking.

Mr. Gay was a tall, impressive-looking man, with a determined jaw which announced to the world that he usually accomplished whatever he set out to do. He was proud of his daughter’s detective work that summer, and delighted to have her follow in his footsteps, though he wished he might keep her always from the more gruesome features in the pursuit of crimes and criminals.

“Hello, Mary Lou!” he called, gazing admiringly at her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. “Did you have a good time?”

“Wonderful!” she replied, hanging up her snowflaked coat. “I’m sorry to be late, Dad, but I had a hard time getting the others home.”

“That’s all right, Daughter. It won’t take long for me to tell you what I have in mind. It may take longer for you to decide upon your answer.”

Mary Louise sat down opposite him and waited expectantly, not saying another word.

“There is a small hotel for women in Philadelphia,” he began. “It is a pretty up-to-date place, though they try to keep their rates down, because it is endowed, and supposedly was started for girls in moderate circumstances. They have been having some trouble lately, valuables have been stolen—and they are practically sure that none of the servants is guilty. So they want a detective.”

“A detective?” repeated Mary Louise breathlessly. “You mean——”

“Yes, I mean you, Mary Lou. The proposition was put up to me, and naturally I can’t handle it myself. I was to find them a woman detective for a week or so, and I suggested you. The woman in charge is delighted. She said a young girl like you could work better than anyone else because no one would suspect you of being a detective. And you could have a room near hers, under her protection, you see.

“Now the great question is: would you want to give up your