Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Aug 1919)

MOTION PICTL'RE CLASSIC Still more mystified, her father ])eered down at the badge. “A Binkum detective !’’ he read slowly. “Am I to understand that this refers to — you?” “Yep! Correspondence course,” Peggy explained importantly. “As soon as I heard that that big diamond was coming I wrote to the Binkum people, and I’m a real detective now ! You dont need to worry, dad — I’ll look out for it.” Mr. Ensloe managed to turn a laugh into a cough with great presence of mind. “If I’d only known of this before!” he regretted. “But I didn’t, you see, and this very afternoon I hired a man from the Central Office to come up here and guard the stone.” “Will he be disguised?” Peggy asked, crestfallen. “All good detectives have to wear disguises. I’ve got some perfectly swell ones. You'd never guess when I have one of them on that I’m me." “No, I noticed that,” said her father, dryly, “and that reminds me. W'asn’t there a young man attached to the diamond ? I dont see him anywhere about ” The sound of an opening door sent Peggy to her feet in a panic. “You’d better set your detective to guarding him. He’s in a good deal more danger of being stolen than his diamond!” she declared, darkly. “By this time Eleanor has told him that it’s wonderful to meet some one who really understands, and that she’s always liked Englishmen better than Americans, they’re so raw, you know, and that it’s the strangest thing, but she somehow had the feeling that they were going to be good friends !” She faced her father, a small, bloomered figure of wrath. “Pm sick and tired of being a Jack Horner, and I’m coming out of my corner. You watch and see!” She was marching up the stairs in a whirl of enthusiasm for her newformed re.solution to “beat sis "“Shr fit her own game,” when a voice, deep and broad of vowel, sounded behind her, startling her so that she promptly fell downstairs and into a pair of outstretched masculine arms. “Miss Margaret Ensloe, I believe?” The owner of the arms, with remarkable tact, accepted the situation as tho this was the normal way in which he was accustomed to meet strange young ladies. “I’ve been hoping for the pleasure of meeting you ever since I saw that boxing exhibition this afternoon.” Peggy recovered herself and stood back, a cpieer new sensation tingling in her cheeks. She did not know that .she was blushing. She only knew that she felt very small, and abashed, and very, very trouserish. “I’m — I’m just Peggy,” she murmured. “Margaret is too large in the waist and too long in the skirt for me — it’s not a good tit.” In her own room, she stamped a small foot furiously. “I acted,” she told herself, “as if I had just had my hfth birthday ! It’s a wonder I didn’t stick my finger in my mouth !” She marched to the closet, jerked down a ruffly white organdie and kicked off her heavy shoes as one might fling down a gage of battle. “Never you mind, Peggy Ensloe, the bout’s not o\ er — only the first round. I may not win, but I’m going to do my darndest anyhow !” After dinner, with a glint of malice in her brown eyes, she followed her sister and the Honorable Hugh to the vine-covered veranda and seated herself, placidly oblivious to Eleanor’s wireless a])peal, between them. “Can you box, Mr. Wentworth?” she inquired, without needless circumlocution. “Eve been aching to ask some one who knew about the right way of feinting with the left to cover a jab to the jaw. And what is your method of delivering a ‘haymaker’ ?” The Honorable With , the moonlight kind to her freckles, Peggy was not only passable — she was even pretty. The heavy waves of bright hair framed her small pointed face charmingly ; the simple white ruffles about her neck accentuated vouth of her the (Fifty-sevev)