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THE GAY HANDKERCHIEF
97

"Oh, I hope you do!" and she clapped her hands in spontaneous delight. "Do you think you will, Tom?"

"Hard to tell, Ruth. There aren't many clues to work on. At least there weren't until today——"

"Oh, did you find some to-day, Tom? Tell me, I'm so fascinated with detective work! Did you really see some clue that escaped me? "

"Ahem! Detectives never talk about their cases, or tell about their clues!" he exclaimed, with exaggerated gravity.

"Tom Parsons!"

"Well, really, I don't know whether I did find a clue or not, Ruth. I'm going to think about it over night. If you can help me I won't hesitate to call on you."

"Will you, really, Tom? That's good of you. And now I'm afraid you'll have to row a little faster. It is getting quite late."

"All right," agreed the lad, as he bent to the oars. As he rowed his thoughts went to the card in his pocket and to the strands of silk from the gay handkerchief.

Fortunately Ruth was not so late that Miss Philock found fault. Tom proved himself a good rower, though after he had said good-bye he took the course easy on the way to Randall.

"Some sculling," he told himself, as he tied up