Mrs. Hadley had already gone to bed when John received his special delivery letter. He and Dorothy had been sitting in the little parlor, reading a story aloud, when the messenger arrived. The girl watched him quietly as he perused its contents. First she noticed a slight frown on his face; but a moment later this was replaced by an ecstatic smile. John Hadley had wonderful news! “By George!” he cried, handing the letter to his companion, “I’m to see _her!_ To go to California first, and stop on my way back at the Hilton ranch, near Bailey, Wyoming, to deliver a radio to the Girl Scouts, and set it up. Oh, did you ever hear of such luck? It sounds like the Arabian Nights!” Dorothy tried to enter whole-heartedly into his joy. “It is wonderful, of course. And the Girl Scouts ordered their outfit from you?” John examined the order, and nodded his head, smilingly. “Then it must be all right with--with--you know, I don’t know her name!” she added. “I guess you are right,” agreed John. “And now I must go wake mother, and tell her, for I start early in the morning.” “And when do you get back?” “I don’t know. My vacation comes the last two weeks in August, so--well--I might spend it on the ranch!” “With the Girl Scouts!” added Dorothy. “I envy you, John!” “Yes, it would be nice,” he said. “And I could give them mother’s invitation in person.” “And I do so hope they accept,” said the girl, fervently. “Somehow, I feel as if my whole fate rested upon their decision.” John forgot for a moment his own affairs, in his surprise at what Dorothy was saying. Why, he asked himself again, did she care so much about the house-party, and in what way was her future dependent upon it? He looked at her questioningly; his eyes held the interrogation his lips dared not utter. As Dorothy watched him, and noted his eager interest, she came to the sudden decision to tell him all that she knew of her past. Perhaps he would be able to help her; at any rate, he was too good a friend to betray her confidence. “John,” she said, in reply to his silent question, “I want to talk to you about myself. Have you time?” “I certainly have,” replied the young man. For the next five minutes he listened to one of the strangest experiences he had ever heard. Dorothy’s explanation was different from anything he had imagined, and more pitiful. Never in his life had he so longed to help anyone, and never, he thought, had he been so powerless. “And may I tell mother?” he asked, when she had finished her story. “I believe I would rather tell her myself--tomorrow,” replied Dorothy. “For you will want to go and tell her your own news now.” “That is true,” he said, rising, and extending his hand. “And now goodnight, Dorothy, and goodbye; for I leave early in the morning.” “Goodbye,” she answered, taking his hand. “And please don’t tell my secret to anyone except ‘_the girl_,’ will you?” “I promise,” he said, with sincerity. CHAPTER XVII. THE SCOUT PARTY.