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CHAPTER ONE
Secret Seven Meeting

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“When are the Secret Seven going to have their next meeting?” said Susie to her brother Jack.

“That’s nothing to do with you!” said Jack. “You don’t belong to it, and what’s more, you never will!”

“Good gracious! I don’t want to belong to it!” said Susie, putting on a very surprised voice. “If I want to belong to a secret society I can always get one of my own. I did once before, and it was a better one than yours.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Jack. “Our Secret Seven is the best in the world—why, just think of the things we’ve done and the adventures we’ve had! I bet we’ll have another one soon.”

“I bet you won’t,” said Susie, annoyingly. “You’ve been meeting in that shed at the bottom of Peter and Janet’s garden for weeks now—and there isn’t even the smell of a mystery!”

“Well, mysteries don’t grow on trees, nor do adventures,” said Jack. “They just happen all in a minute. Anyway, I’m not going to talk about the Secret Seven any more, and you needn’t think you’ll get anything out of me, because you won’t, Susie. And please go out of my room and let me get on with this book.”

“I know your latest password,” said Susie, halfway through the door.

“You do not!” said Jack, quite fiercely. “I haven’t mentioned it—and I haven’t even written it down so that I won’t forget it. You’re a story-teller, Susie.”

“I’m not! I’m just telling you so as to warn you to choose a new password!” said Susie, and slid out of the door.

Jack stared after her. What an annoying sister she was! Did she know the password? No—she couldn’t know it, possibly!

It was true what Susie had said—the Secret Seven had been meeting for weeks, and absolutely nothing had turned up. Certainly the seven had plenty of fun together, but after having so many exciting adventures it was a bit dull just to go on playing games and talking.

Jack looked in his note-book. When was the next meeting? To-morrow night, in Peter’s shed. Well, that would be quite exciting, because all the members had been told to bring any fireworks they had managed to buy for Bonfire Night—it would be fun looking through them all.

Bonfire Night was next week. Jack got up and rummaged in one of his drawers—ah, there were his fireworks. And here was his big Humdinger—Jack was sure he was the only Secret Seven member who had got one of those.

“Fizzzzzzzz—whooooosh—bang!” he said, and stamped on the floor. “Fizzzzzzzzzz—whoo ...”

“Jack! What in the world are you doing? Are you ill?” called an anxious voice, and his mother’s head came round the door.

“No, Mother. I’m all right,” said Jack. “I was only thinking of this Humdinger and the noise it will make.”

“Humdinger? Whatever’s that?” asked his mother. “Oh, Jack—how untidy your bedroom is!”

“I was just tidying it, Mother,” said Jack. “I say, could you let me have some of those chocolate biscuits out of the tin, Mother? We’re having a Secret Seven meeting to-morrow night.”

“Very well. Take seven,” said his mother.

“Eight, you mean,” called Jack, as she went out of the room. “Mother! Eight, I want. You’ve forgotten Scamper.”

“Good gracious—well, if you must waste good chocolate biscuits on a dog, take eight,” called his mother.

“Good,” thought Jack. “We’ve all got to take something nice to eat to-morrow night, for the meeting—choc biscuits will be fine! Now, what was the password? Guy Fawkes, wasn’t it? Or was that last time’s? No, that’s the one. Guy Fawkes—and a jolly good password, seeing that Bonfire Night is soon coming! Why does Susie say she knows it? She doesn’t!”

The meeting was for half-past five, in Peter’s shed, and all the Secret Seven meant to be there. Just before the half-hour five children began to file in at Peter’s gate and make their way down the garden to the shed where the meetings were held.

The shed door was shut, but a light shone from inside. On the door were the letters S.S., put there by Peter. It was dark, and one by one torches shone on the door as the members arrived.

Rat-tat!

“Password, please!” That was Peter’s voice inside.

“Guy Fawkes!” answered the members one by one.

Pamela was first. Then came Jack, hurrying in case he was late. Then George, carrying a bag of rosy apples as his share of the food. Then Barbara, wondering if the password was Guy Fawkes or Bonfire Night. Oh dear!

Rat-tat! She knocked at the door.

“Password!”

“Er—Bonfire Night,” said Barbara.

The door remained shut, and there was a dead silence inside. Barbara gave a little giggle.

“All right. I know it! Guy Fawkes!”

The door opened and she went in. Everyone was there except Colin.

“He’s late,” said Peter. “Blow him! I say—what a spread we’ve got to-night!”

The shed was warm and cosy inside. It was lighted by two candles, and there was a small oil-stove at the back. On a table made of a box was spread the food the members had brought.

“Apples. Ginger buns. Doughnuts. Peppermint rock—and what’s in this bag? Oh yes, hazel nuts from your garden, Pam. And you’ve remembered to bring nut-crackers too. Good. And I’ve brought orangeade. Jolly good feast!” said Peter.

“I wish Colin would buck up,” said Janet. “Oh, here he is!”

There was the sound of running feet and somebody banged at the door. Rat-tat!

“Password!” yelled everyone.

“Guy Fawkes!” answered a voice, and Peter opened the door.

Well, would you believe it! It was Susie outside, grinning all over her cheeky face. Susie!

Good Work Secret Seven!

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