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Three
A very good meeting

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The six left in the shed were too angry for words. Peter shook his fist after the two running girls, and yelled in fury.

‘We’re soaked! How dare you! You wait till we see you again!’

But all the answer they had was the sound of running feet—and distant squeals of laughter. That Susie! How could she even have thought of such a trick? Poor Jack—fancy having a sister like that!

‘Borrowing his clothes too, to be Jack in the nursery rhyme,’ groaned Peter, mopping his shoulder with an old sack, ‘And having a pail of water too! I’m wet through!’

‘And fancy telling Jack the meeting wasn’t till half past five—no wonder he’s late!’ said Janet. ‘I’ll fetch an old towel from the house, Peter. You’re the wettest because you were nearest.’

‘No, don’t. You’ll only have Mother asking what’s happened. Oh, that awful Susie! I’ll tell Jack exactly what I think of her when he comes!’

But Jack didn’t come. Poor Jack! He was just about to start off when Susie and Binkie came rolling with laughter up the drive, the pail clanking between them. When they told him what had happened, he sat down on the front steps and groaned.

‘Susie! How could you go to the meeting and pretend to be me? How could you tell me the wrong time? I can’t possibly go to the meeting. I’ll have to telephone and apologize for your behaviour—and probably I’ll be chucked out of the club!’

‘We don’t mind writing and apologizing,’ said Susie. ‘I don’t mind writing a dozen apologies—it was worth a dozen to crash in on the meeting, and bamboozle everyone—and Binkie was such a good shot with the water!’

‘Didn’t anyone spot that you weren’t me?’ said Jack in wonder.

‘Only Scamper. He growled like anything,’ said Susie. ‘Oh, I’m going to start laughing again—oh Binkie, did you think our pail of water would be so useful?’

Jack went off in disgust and disappointment. He had been looking forward to the meeting so much. Now he couldn’t possibly go. He went to the telephone to apologize for Susie’s behaviour—but just as he was about to lift the receiver, the bell rang. It was Janet on the phone.

‘Jack? Jack, it really is you, not Susie, isn’t it?’ said Janet’s anxious voice. ‘This is just to say that the meeting is off for tonight—we’re all rather wet! I expect Susie has told you all about it. No, don’t apologize for her, Jack—you weren’t to blame. But Peter wants me to say the meeting is postponed till tomorrow. Will you come then?’

‘Yes. Yes, I’d love to,’ said Jack, much relieved. ‘Thanks awfully. Actually I was just coming along now, so I’m glad you rang. No—no, of course I won’t tell Susie about the next meeting. But why don’t you go on with tonight’s?’

‘We’re too wet and cross,’ said Janet. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, then. Good-bye!’

So, the next night, the Secret Seven met once more, and this time there was no growling from Scamper, for it really was Jack there, not Susie! Everyone made quite a fuss of Jack, for he felt so ashamed and forlorn to think that his sister had spoilt a meeting.

‘Cheer up, Jack—it had its funny side,’ said Pam, kindly.

‘Had it? Well, I can’t say I noticed it,’ said Peter. ‘However, let’s get on with this meeting. Scamper, please keep your ears cocked for any sound outside.’

Scamper at once went to the door, and put his head on one side. Now no one could even creep near! Scamper could hear the smallest sound—even the feet of a night-beetle running by on the path outside!

The meeting went quite well. The tin of chocolate biscuits was a great success. There were so many biscuits in it that everyone was able to have at least six—and Scamper had a generous share! He ate his biscuits over by the door, determined not to let anyone come in unless he recognized voice and footsteps!

‘Now,’ said Peter, when biscuits had been eaten and orangeade and lemonade drunk, ‘now—if this club is going to continue properly, we’ll have to decide on doing something together.’

‘Like helping somebody?’ asked Pam. ‘Mother says we ought to help some charity if we can’t think of anything to do. She says it’s silly to have a club that just meets and eats and talks.’

‘Well, I like that! We’ve done heaps of things in this club!’ said Janet, indignantly. ‘Helped people—solved mysteries—and the very last thing we did was to find that dog-stealer. The one who stole the shepherd’s sheep-dog, Shadow—and stole Scamper as well, and ...’

‘All right, all right,’ said Pam. ‘I know all that. I’m only telling you what my mother says.’

‘Well, it’s fun to have some aim, some interest,’ said Barbara. ‘You know—something to think about and puzzle about. Just think of the exciting things that have happened to us—and now here we sit, just eating more and more biscuits, the same as last time. We don’t seem to have a brain between us.’

Peter listened, and frowned. ‘You know—Barbara’s right,’ he said. ‘We must think of something to do. We’ve plenty of brains between us—we know that. Now—who has any ideas? Speak up, please.’

There was a very long, frowning silence. ‘I never can think of any good ideas when I’m ordered to,’ complained Janet. ‘The best ideas aren’t ones I think out—they’re the ones that come in a flash!’

‘Isn’t there some mystery we can try to solve?’ asked George, ‘or someone we can help in some way?’

‘Well—there’s only one mystery I know about—and that’s to find out who tied our headmaster’s chair half-way up the flag-pole in the school grounds,’ said Colin, with a spurt of laughter. ‘You can’t think how daft it looked there last Wednesday, when we went to school.’

‘It would be a waste of time to solve such a silly little mystery,’ said Pam. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if it didn’t turn out to be that awful Susie who managed to put it there—with her friend Binkie’s help!’

That made everyone laugh, even Jack. There was a short silence, and then Colin spoke up.

‘Er—I’ve just thought of an idea—not a very good one, I’m afraid. What about trying to get old General Branksome’s medals back for him? They’ve been stolen, you know.’

Everyone stared at Colin in surprise. ‘But how on earth could we do that?’ asked George. ‘Even the police don’t know who took them or where they are.’

‘The old fellow lives next door to me,’ said Colin. ‘And—well—he’s very old, you know, and his medals meant a lot to him. And—er—yesterday I saw him telling somebody about them, in his garden—it’s next to ours—and it was awful, because tears ran down his cheeks all the time.’

There was a shocked silence. Grown-ups hardly ever cried; and soldiers never. And yet the old general had had tears running down his cheeks. How unhappy he must be!

Nobody knew quite what to say. The silence went on, broken by a mournful whine from Scamper, who couldn’t imagine why everyone was suddenly so quiet.

‘It’s all right, Scamper. We’re just considering something important,’ said Janet, stroking his silky head. ‘We’re talking about crying, and that’s something dogs don’t understand. Animals can’t cry.’

Scamper whimpered again, as if he quite disagreed with what Janet said. Then George asked a question.

‘Can’t the General have his medals replaced by the Government?’

‘Of course not,’ said Colin. ‘Anyway, some of them were medals awarded to him by foreign countries. He was a very, very brave man, you know. I simply couldn’t bear to see him crying like that. I suppose the thief stole not only the medals, but all his memories—if you know what I mean. Anyway, that’s what my father said, and he has one or two medals of his own, so he ought to know what he’s talking about. He was brave too, in the last war. I wish we could get back the General’s medals!’

Pam and the other two girls were very much touched by Colin’s suggestion. None of them could bear to think of so old and so very brave a man weeping for his lost medals.

‘I vote we try to find the medals,’ said Pam. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to set about it, but I vote we try.’

‘Well—I think it’s rather an impossible task,’ said Peter. ‘I do really. I vote that we set ourselves some other job as well. Surely the Secret Seven can tackle two things!’

‘What’s the second task to be, then?’ asked Jack.

‘I vote we keep an eye on nesting birds in Bramley Woods,’ said Peter. ‘There’s apparently a gang going about there, pulling nests to pieces, and killing the young birds—and taking any eggs as well. Well—there are seven of us—what about doing something about it? Scamper would help too!’

‘Wuff!’ said Scamper, at the top of his voice. So it was settled. The Secret Seven had two tasks—one to look into the matter of the missing medals—and two, to watch for nest-destroyers in Bramley Woods.

‘It’s a funny mixture, really,’ said George, rather doubtfully. ‘They don’t exactly go together, those two things, do they?’

‘Not really,’ said Janet. ‘But you never know, George, you never know!’

Look Out Secret Seven

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