Ruth remained with Nancy and so did Isabel, so that she readily found an opportunity to tell them of Mr. Sander's message. They were as usual, putting things away, Miss Manners being obliged to leave early to give a private lesson to an invalid girl. "And we are actually going to hear the secret," gasped Nancy. "Girls, you don't know how excited I am--" "You don't know how _crazy_ I am," added Ruth. "And how _wild_ I am," put in Isabel. "Think we should have a doctor within call? Will it be overwhelming?" she joked. "Better have a policeman," suggested Ruth. "He may disclose some gems, or other valuables." "Here comes Ted," Nancy interrupted, "and I know by his walk that he's worried." Ted strode in, Nero close beside him, and as Nancy had intimated he did act worried. "What's the matter, Ted?" Ruth asked first. "Matter? I've got to hide this dog. Folks want to take him away from me. Say he's theirs," Ted's words fairly hissed his indignation. "Who says so?" demanded Nancy belligerently. "A man who came up to the old stone house," answered Ted. "But Nero was Lou Peter's dog and Lou gave him to me, and not all the money there is, is going to get my dog away from me." Ted's voice was not very positive, and the girls, all three, assisted him in coaxing Nero out to the small door under the back porch, where he was finally made a prisoner, with several plates of food set before him to lighten the misery. It surely would be disastrous for Ted to lose his dog. CHAPTER XXIII THE STORY TOLD The Whatnot Shop was quite powerless to prevent the invasion. "We'll push all the tables back and set the chairs around in a half-circle," suggested the fluttered Nancy. "Then, it will be just like--" "A play," finished Isabel. "Too bad we can't turn on a spot light." "I think it would be nice to let Mr. Townsend sit behind the counter on his old high stool," Nancy further suggested. "It might make him feel at home. I wonder where we put that stool." "Away back in the corner under the three-cornered shelf," Ruth informed her. "I rammed it in there myself." It was dragged out--the stool, and set just where it had been found when Nancy first took possession of the shop. "A regular par-tee!" chanted Isabel. "Glad I happened to wear a white dress; being a deb and all that." "You may carry the white paper fan, little deb," mocked Nancy. "We couldn't sell it so I'd be delighted to donate it to your coming out party." "Oh, it isn't mine, it's yours," chirped Isabel, "and I hope you are not going to wear that howling yellow gingham--" "I am. Yellow's my color," and Nancy flipped the skirt of her dress around gaily.