It was not until the following day, when Marjorie faced a free morning, that she had an opportunity to go over the events of the previous day and weigh their significance. Then, with the excitement of the picnic behind her, she was able to think calmly.  
The more she thought of the strange voice she and Ethel had heard in the cellar, the more anxious she was to learn its source. Now she felt angry with herself for running away; she wished that she had accepted the boys’ offer to return immediately and explore the cellar. It had been ridiculous to allow such an opportunity to pass.
 
She took her fancy-work and went down on the porch, hoping that Ethel, who was also free that morning, would join her. She longed to talk the matter over with her, and to tell her of the plan she was .
 
She did not have to wait long, for in a few minutes Ethel appeared, with two or three magazines. But Marjorie had no intention of allowing her to read.
 
“I’m so glad you came out,” said Marjorie. “For I’ve been dying to talk the whole thing over without the other girls. And of course last night we were too tired—”
 
“Yes, I didn’t even give it a thought after I got into bed, I was so sleepy,” said Ethel. “But I certainly have been trying to figure it out this morning. I can’t make head or tail of it.”
 
“Neither can I. And yet we didn’t dream it—we certainly wouldn’t both dream it—”
 
“Don’t you think it could possibly have been a spirit?” asked Ethel.
 
“No, I don’t. I think somebody wants to get us out of that house—though for what reason under the sun, I can’t imagine—and is using this method to frighten us. Because, otherwise, why should only we girls experience it, and never the men?”
 
“You don’t think the boys could have heard something of the kind and refrained from telling us for fear of scaring us?”
 
“If they had, Ethel,” replied Marjorie, convincingly, “ and John never would have consented to letting you and me stay alone in the house all night—even with their watching as close as they were. No, I know them both too well for that!”
 
“I guess you’re right,” admitted Ethel. “Well, Marj, what are we going to do about it—just ignore it all? We have nearly a month yet—”
 
“No, I really mean to do something, as I said last night to the boys, to get to the bottom of it. I have a plan—rather vague, I’ll admit—but still, it’s a plan.”
 
“Tell me about it!” urged her companion.
 
“Well, it’s based on this idea: whoever they are that want to frighten us away, they plan their attacks for only the times when we girls are alone in the house. Evidently, then, there is no hope of using the boys to help catch them. Neither do I think there is any chance of our doing anything, against men; we’d only get into trouble. So our one lies in getting two or three of the boys to disguise themselves as girls, and go after them.”
 
“Splendid!” cried Ethel, approvingly. “But wouldn’t they recognize their voices?”
 
“Yes, if it is necessary to do any talking. I thought we might work out some such scheme as this—have Jack, disguised as a girl, and me sleep all night at the house; and have John and maybe one or two of the others,—either hidden or disguised—outside. I really haven’t worked out the details of the plot a bit, because I thought Jack and John could do much better than I could.”
 
“It’s wonderful!” cried Ethel, in growing . “I’m sort of jealous of you, though—being the only girl—”
 
“I’d include you, Ethel, if I thought it were wise. But it seems to me we better not have too many, and of course it would be best for me because Jack is my brother. But we won’t decide anything definitely until I talk it over with Jack and John at the tea-house this evening.”
 
The girls continued to discuss the subject until Marie Louise and Florence came up on the porch, and then they dropped it for discretion’s sake. The whole effectiveness of the plan would be lost if the disguise were to be common knowledge.
 
At the all asked Marjorie what she intended to do in regard to the warning she had received.
 
“I don’t know yet,” she replied, truthfully. “I want to talk it over with the boys and make some arrangements for staying again all night at the tea-house.”
 
“No! No! Marjorie!” cried Marie Louise, aghast at the idea. “Oh, please take the warning seriously, and stay away from there at night!”
 
Marjorie smilingly shook her head.
 
“No, Marie Louise; it’s our duty as truth-loving Girl Scouts to get to the bottom of this thing. But I won’t be foolish—I’m going to proceed very carefully.”
 
“Well, in the meanwhile, I hope nothing dreadful happens,” she observed.
 
“How are we working today?” asked Ethel, . “I’ve had so many other things to think about that I’ve almost forgotten there is such a thing as work.”
 
“Everybody’s on all afternoon,” replied Marie Louise. “But Alice and I go off at four o’clock because we worked this morning. And you and Marjorie are supposed to stay latest, and close the house.”
 
“Suits me!” announced Marjorie. “Jack and John will surely be down this evening, and it will give us a chance to talk things over.”
 
The business at the tea-house was as gratifying as ever that afternoon; perhaps because it was particularly warm and sultry, a larger number of patrons than usual came in to enjoy the ice-cream and the ice-tea, and to rest beneath the electric fans; for as soon as the money had begun to pour in with greater rapidity, Marjorie had installed them in the tea-room and in the rest-room. The girls themselves were so busy and so happy in their service that they did not notice the heat. Indeed, it was only after Marie Louise and Alice made their departure that they began to feel .
 
About six o’clock the rush seemed to be over, and Marjorie insisted that all except Ethel and herself go home for supper. Then, in the that followed, they found something to eat, and waited impatiently for the coming of the boys. When they finally arrived, Marjorie lost no time in putting her new plan up to them.
 
“But let’s wait several days,” she concluded, “while you people figure it out to the best advantage. We want to lay a regular Sherlock Holmes trap, and catch the enemy without any slips. So—think as hard as you can.”
 
“We certainly will!” cried both boys, in excitement.
 
They fell so into Marjorie’s proposition, and seemed so confident of success, that for the first time since the opening of the tea-house, the girls really felt as if most of the obstacles were behind her. She was naturally disgruntled therefore to be greeted, upon reaching home, with the news of a fresh disaster.
 
“Marie Louise and Alice have disappeared!” announced Florence, almost before the girls were out of John’s car.
 
“What?” cried Marjorie, still on the step of the . “What did you say?”
 
“Marie Louise and Alice have not been seen since this afternoon!” repeated Florence. “And what is more—the last person who saw them was Anna—and she thinks they went down the cellar of the tea-house!”
 
“Oh, no! No!” protested Marjorie. “Oh, not that!”
 
&ldq............