"O, helping everybody out, and smoothing everybody down, and the queer part is that you keep so cheerful about it." Peggy smiled a little. "The queer part, as you call it, is really the secret, if I’ve got any secret. If you keep cheerful and are polite, and don’t lose your head, it’s easy enough to get other folks to see things the way you do." By six o’clock the girls were tired but triumphant. Peggy’s cheery prophesies had been more than realized, and from eight to ten they were sure of another period of activity, which would, in all probability, empty their tables and fill their treasury. The workers hurried home for a supper, even more of a form than dinner had been, and were back on duty before there was any chance of new arrivals. On the cheerful group, comparing notes as to the day’s experiences and calculating the probable gains, by methods which brought startlingly diverse results, Ruth descended like a whirlwind. "Girls, the ice cream’s gone." "Gone!" echoed a blank chorus, and Peggy, as usual the first to rally, exclaimed, "Why, I don’t see how that can be. We didn’t have--" "No, no, you don’t understand," cried poor Ruth, wringing her hands. "We only used one freezer of ice cream this afternoon. But the other one, the big one, has disappeared." "Stolen!" Priscilla gasped. "Well, anybody who’s mean enough to steal from empty-stocking children!" "That’ll cut down our profits dreadfully," groaned Amy. Peggy roused herself. "Maybe there’s some mistake," she cried. "It almost seems as if there _must_ be some mistake. Let’s look outside." There was a rush for the back door, despite Graham Wylie’s philosophical suggestion that a ten-quart ice cream freezer was a difficult thing to mislay. The November night was starless and chilly, and most of the girls, after taking a disconsolate view of the landscape, withdrew shivering to the warmth within, to bemoan their misfortune. Perhaps Peggy found it harder to give up than most people do. She went down the walk to the alley, Graham following. "It’s such a big thing," observed Peggy over her shoulder, "that you wouldn’t think it could get very far without attracting attention. You don’t suppose--" "Sh!" warned Graham suddenly, and both went forward on tiptoe. Further up the alley sounded a curious bumping noise. A murmur of voices broke the hush of the night. Graham felt for the bolt of the back gate, found it already drawn, and smiled, well pleased. The voices outside were audible by now. "Say, that’s far enough." "’Tain’t far enough till it’s inside, kid. You don’t s’pose they’s goin’ to look fer ice cream in no alley, do you?" Something bumped against the gate. Slowly it opened, and a capped head appeared. Then Graham pounced; there was a thud and a wild scampering, and Peggy flew to the rescue of the overturned freezer.