 CHAPTER XXII. of Mary Louise and the Liberty Girls by L. Frank Baum. Red for LibriVox.org into the public domain. A slight mistake. From the edge of town to the steel works the road led through a common, overgrown with brush and weeds. There was no moon, and, although the distance was not so great, it was a lonely, dark, and creepy place. As soon as the girl saw Kaufman take the road to the works, she decided to get there before he could do so. Knowing well she could not be seen, she branched off through the brush, and, finding her way by instinct rather than sight, ran swiftly in a half-circle over the fields, and struck the road again considerably in advance of the more deliberate Kaufman. She now set off at her swiftest run, and, on reaching the manager's office, in the front of the main building, perceived that it was lighted. Josie wrapped upon the door, and it was opened by one armed Joe Langley, the night-watchman. Quick, she said, let me in and hide me somewhere where I can't be seen. Joe pulled her in, closed the outer door, and locked it, and then he phased her. What's up, he demanded. There's a man coming here with a bomb and a black satchel, she panted. He intends to blow up this building in which all the shells are stored. I want to catch him in the act, Joe, and you must hide me somewhere. Joe glanced around with a puzzled look. Where, he asked, helplessly. Josie looked around her, too. This end of the long building was partitioned off for offices, as it fronted the town. The central section was a big space containing a table, benches, etc., while on either side were little glass rooms with partitions between them, reaching about seven feet in height, the ceiling being some twelve feet from the floor. The first room to the left of the entrance was marked manager on its glass door, the next office purchasing agent, and the third chief engineer. On the right-hand side the corresponding offices were marked secretary, examiner, and superintendent. All the office doors were locked except that of the purchasing agent, which stood a jar. Josie sprang into that office and cast a hurried glance around. The glass division between that and the manager's office was frosted with white paint, but so carelessly done that she found places where she could see through into the office of the manager. Also she could see into the main or reception room, even with her door closed. While she examined this place a knock came on the outer door, a loud, imperative knock. "'This will do,' whispered Josie to Joe. "'Go on and let him in, but don't let him suspect I'm here.' Joe was not quick-witted, but on the battlefields of France he had learned prompt obedience to orders. Josie, as a government agent, was now his commander, so he merely nodded to her as he walked over to unlock the outer door. Kaufman stepped in, satchel in hand. "'You're the watchman, I suppose,' he said cheerfully. "'Is Mr. Colton in?' "'No,' answered Joe. "'I was to meet him here at this time,' said Kaufman. "'He said he'd be back this evening,' returned Joe, just recalling that fact. But he isn't here yet. "'All right,' said the man. "'I'll wait.' He carefully placed the satchel on the table and sat down on a bench. Joe regarded him suspiciously, remembering the girl's warning, but said nothing more. Josie was watching Kaufman from her retreat, but as her little office was dark and the Germans sat under a bright light, it was impossible for him to know that his every movement was under observation. The minutes dragged. A big clock on the wall ticked with an ominous sound. Kaufman drew out his watch and compared it with the clock. He appeared to grow restless. Josie's quick ears caught the distant sound of a motor-car coming down the road. Perhaps Kaufman heard it also. He rose from his seat and, going to the table, unlocked the black satchel, pressed the top open and looked inside it. Still bending over the satchel he placed a cigarette in his mouth, lighted a match and applied the flame to his cigarette. His back was toward Josie, but she comprehended instantly the action. "'He has lighted the fuse,' she murmured triumphantly. The motor-car came to a sudden halt outside the door, which Josie had left unlocked. But while the German turned expectantly toward the door, the maimed soldier, hearing Josie's whisper, approached her little room and slightly opened the door. "'He has lighted the fuse of the bomb,' she said to him excitedly. "'The bomb is in the satchel.' Joe turned quickly to the table. He dived to the bag with his one good hand, drew out the heavy ball of steel, and rushed with it to the door, just as the manager, Mr. Colton, opened it and stepped in. So swift were Joe's actions that Kaufman had no time to interfere. Both he and the manager stared in amazement as Joe Langley rushed outside, and with all his might hurled the bomb far out upon the common. "'Confound you,' cried Kaufman. "'What did you do that for?' "'What is it?' inquired the astonished manager. "'A bomb!' cried Josie, stepping from her retreat and confronting them. A bomb with the fuse lighted, and time to blow up this building after you had gone away, Mr. Colton. That man before you is a German spy, and I arrest him in the name of the law. Put up your hands, Abe Kaufman.' The little revolver was in her hand, steadily covering him. Kaufman gave an amused laugh, but he slowly raised his arms as commanded. "'I don't quite understand,' said the puzzled manager, looking from one to the other. "'Well, I brought the new projectile, Colton, as I had agreed,' answered the German, coolly. But your quaint watchman has thrown it away. As for the girl, he added, with a broad grin, she has fooled me. She said she had brains, and I find she was mistaken.' The manager turned to Josie. "'May I ask who you are, miss, and how you came to be in my office?' "'I am Josie O'Gorman, an agent of the government secret service,' she replied, not quite truthfully. I've been shadowing this man for some time. I tell you, sir, he brought a bomb here to destroy this building, and under pretence of lighting a cigarette he has just lighted the time fuse. The bomb was in that satchel, but,' she added impressively, as a matter of fact the thing was harmless as I had already removed the powder from the fuse. Kaufman gave a low whistle. "'How did you manage that?' he asked curiously. "'Never mind how,' she retorted. I did it.' Kaufman turned to the manager. "'Will you please order your man to get the projectile?' he asked. "'It's lucky for us that the thing isn't loaded, or there really would have been an explosion.' He now turned to Josie, with his hands still in the air, and explained, It is meant to explode through impact, and ordering it tossed out there was the most dangerous thing you could have done. At the manager's command Joe took an electric searchlight and went out to find the steel ball. "'If you please, Miss,' said Kaufman, may I put down my arms. They are tired, and I assure you I will not try to escape.' Josie lowered the revolver. Her face was red. She was beginning to wonder if she had bungled the case. A second thought, however, a thought of the papers she had found in the old desk reassured her. She might have been wrong in some respects, but surely she was right in the main. "'This man,' said Mr. Colton, pointing to Kaufman, is known to me as a munitions expert. He bears the endorsement of the Secretary of War, and is the inventor of the most effective shells we now manufacture. What you have mistaken for a bomb is his latest design of a projectile for an eight-inch gun. He had arranged to bring it here and explain to me its mechanism tonight, and also to submit a proposition giving our company the control of its manufacture. If you are a government agent, you surely understand that these arrangements must be conducted with great secrecy. If we purchase the right to make this projectile, we must first induce the government to use it, by demonstrating its effectiveness and then secure our contracts. So your interference at this time is, ahem, annoying.' Josie's face was a little more red than before. A second motor car drew up at the door, and to her astonishment Mrs. Charleworth entered, and greeted both the manager and Kaufman in her usual charming manner. Then she looked inquiringly at the girl. "'Pardon me, madam,' said Mr. Colton. There has been a singular misunderstanding, it seems, and our friend here has been accused of being a German spy by this young lady, who is a government detective, or—or claims to be such. The precious projectile, in which you are so deeply interested, has just been tossed out upon the common, but Joe Langley is searching for it. Ms. Charleworth's face wore an amused smile. We are so beset with spies on every hand that such an error is quite likely to occur,' said she. "'I recognize this young lady is a friend of the Hathaway family, and I have met her at the Liberty Girls' shop, so she is doubtless sincere, if misled. Let us hope we can convince her—Miss O'Gorman, isn't it—that we are wholly innocent of attempting to promote the Kaiser's interests.' Joe came in with the steel ball which he deposited upon the table. Then, at a nod from the manager, the soldier took his search-light and departed through the door leading to the big room in the rear. It was time to make his regular rounds of the works, and perhaps Mr. Colton preferred no listeners to the conversation that might follow. End of CHAPTER XXII. CHAPTER XXIII. Perhaps—said Josie, her voice trembling a little—'I have assumed too much, and have accused this man, pointing to Kaufman, unjustly. I was trying to serve my country. But I am somewhat confused even yet in regard to this affair. Will you please tell me, Mrs. Charlworth, what connection you have with Mr. Kaufman, or with his—'Projectile?' Very gladly, said the lady graciously, I am a stockholder in this steel company, a rather important stockholder, I believe, and while I am not a member of the Board of Directors, Mr. Colton represents my interests. Two years ago we bought the Kaufman's shell and paid liberally for it, but Mr. Kaufman unfortunately invested his money in a transatlantic merchant ship, which was sunk, with its entire cargo by a German submarine. Again penniless he began the manufacture of suspenders in a small way, with money I loaned him, but was not very successful. Then he conceived the idea of a new projectile, very effective and quite different from others. He asked our company to finance him while he was experimenting and perfecting the new projectile. The company couldn't undertake to do that, but I personally financed Mr. Kaufman having confidence in his ability. He has been six months getting the invention made, tested and ready to submit to government experts, and up to the present it has cost a lot of money. However, it is now considered perfect, and Mr. Kaufman has brought it here tonight to exhibit and explain it to Mr. Colton. If Mr. Colton approves it from a manufacturing standpoint, our company will secure an option for the sole right to manufacture it. Mr. Kaufman has been in Dorfield several days, said Josie. Why did he not show you the projectile before? I've been out of town, explained the manager. I've returned this afternoon, especially for this interview, and made the appointment for this evening. I'm a busy man. These are war times, you know, and I must make my evenings count as well as my days. Josie scented ignominious defeat, but she had one more shot to fire. Mrs. Charlworth, she stated with a severe look. John Dyer, the school superintendent, was at your house last night, in secret conference with Mr. Kaufman and yourself. Oh! so you are aware of that interview? Clever, said Kaufman. I had no idea I was being shadowed. Then the two exchanged glances and smiled. It seems impossible, continued the man, to keep any little matter of business dark these days, although the War Office insists on secrecy in regard to all munitions affairs, and publicity would surely ruin our chances of getting the new projectile accepted for government use. I am awaiting an explanation of that meeting, declared Josie sternly. Perhaps you do not realize how important it may be. Well, answered Mrs. Charlworth, a thoughtful expression crossing her pleasant face, I see no objection to acquainting you with the object of that mysterious meeting, although it involves confiding to you a bit of necessary diplomacy. Mr. Colton will tell you that the Doorfield Steelworks will under no circumstances purchase the right to manufacture the Kaufman projectile, or any other article of munition, until it is approved and adopted by the War Department. That approval is not easily obtained, because the officials are crowded with business and a certain amount of red tape must be encountered. Experience has proved that the inventor is not the proper person to secure government endorsement. He labors under a natural disadvantage. Neither is Mr. Colton, as the prospective manufacturer, free from suspicion of selfish interests. Therefore it seemed best to have the matter taken up with the proper authorities and experts by someone not financially interested in the projectile. Now, Professor Dyer has a brother-in-law who is an important member of the Munitions Board under General Crozier, and we have induced the professor after much urging to take our projectile to Washington, have it tested, and secure contracts for its manufacture. If he succeeds we are to pay liberally for his services. That was how he came to be at our house last evening, when arrangements were finally made. Was such secrecy necessary? asked Josie suspiciously. It was Kaufman who answered this question, speaking with a parent good humor but with a dinge of sarcasm in his voice. My dear young lady, your own disposition to secrecy, a quality quite necessary in a detective, should show you the absurdity of your question. Can we be too careful in these days, Vespianage? No emissary of the Kaiser must know the construction of this wonderful projectile. None should even now know that it exists. Even should our government refuse to adopt it, we must not let the central powers know of it. My own negotiations with Mr. Colton and Mrs. Charleworth have been camouflaged by my disguise as a suspender merchant. It was equally important that Mr. Dyer's connection with us be wholly unsuspected. When the projectile is adopted, and these works are manufacturing it in quantities to help win the war, still no information concerning it must be made public. You must realize that. That is all true, agreed Mr. Colton. These frank statements, Miss, have only been made to you because of your claim to being a government agent. If you fail to substantiate that claim, we shall place you under arrest and turn you over to the authorities for our own protection. To be sure, said Josie, that will be your duty. I am the daughter of John O'Gorman, one of the high officers of the United States Secret Service, who is now in Europe in the interests of the government. I came to Dorfield to visit my friend, Mary Louise Burroughs, as Mrs. Charleworth is aware, and while here my suspicions were aroused of the existence of a German spy plot. Therefore I set to work to bring the criminals to justice. And like a regulation detective you have followed a false trail, commented Kaufman, with his provoking smile. Not altogether, retorted Josie, I have already secured proof that will convict two persons at least. And I am amazed that you have entrusted your secrets to that arch-trader Professor Dyer. Will you tell me, Mrs. Charleworth, what you know about that man? Mrs. Charleworth seemed astounded. Professor John Dyer is one of Dorfield's old residents, I believe, she answers slowly, as if carefully considering her words. He is also the superintendent of schools, and in that capacity seems highly respected. I have never heard anything against the man until now. His important public position should vouch for his integrity. Isn't his position a political appointment? inquired Josie. The lady looked at Mr. Colton. Yes, said the manager, it is true that John Dyer was active in politics long before he was made superintendent of schools. However, he was an educator, as well as a politician, so it seems his appointment was merited. How well do you know him personally, madam? asked the girl. Not very well, she admitted. We do not meet socially, so our acquaintance until very recently was casual. But I have looked upon him as a man of importance in the community. On learning that he had a relative on the munitions board I asked him to come to my house, where I made him the proposition to take our projectile to Washington, and secure its adoption. I offered liberal terms for such service, but at first the professor seemed not interested. I arranged a second meeting last evening at which Mr. Kaufman was present to explain technical details, and we soon persuaded Mr. Dyer to undertake the commission. We felt that we could trust him implicitly. When did he intend to go to Washington? was Josie's next question. On the five-thirty to-morrow morning, after exhibiting the projectile to Mr. Colton and securing the firm's option to manufacture it on a royalty basis, we are to take it to my house, where Mr. Dyer will receive it and obtain our final instructions. One question more, if you please, said Josie. What connection with your enterprise has Tom Linnett? Linnett! I do not know such a person, declared Mrs. Charleworth. Who is he? asked the manager. I know him, said Kaufman. He's the night-clerk at the mansion house where I stop. Sometimes I see him when I come in late. He's not a special account. He's weak, ignorant, and a sharp undertort interrupted him and alarmed them all. Josie swung around quickly for the sound. She knew it was a revolver shot, came from the rear. As Colton and Kaufman sprang to their feet, and Mrs. Charleworth shrank back in a fright, the girl ran to the back door, opened it, and started to make her way through the huge dark building beyond the partition. The manager followed in her wake, and as he passed through the door he turned on a switch, which flooded the big storeroom with light. In the center of the building were long, broad tables used for packing. A few shells still remained grouped here and there upon the boards. On either side the walls were lined with tiers of boxes bound with steel bands and ready for shipment. No person was visible in this room, but at the farther end an outer door stood ajar and just outside it a motionless form was outlined. Josie and Mr. Colton, approaching this outer door nearly at the same time, controlled their haste and came to an abrupt halt. The upright figure was that of Sergeant Joe Langley, and the light from the room just reached a human form huddled upon the ground a few feet distant. Joe had dropped his flashlight, and in his one hand held a revolver. Josie drew a long, shuttering breath. The manager took a step forward, hesitated, and returned to his former position, his face deathly white. What is it? What's the matter? called Kaufman, coming upon the scene, panting, for he was too short and fat to run easily. Joe turned and looked at them as if waking from a trance. His stolid face took on a shamed expression. Couldn't help it, sir, he said to the manager. I caught him in the act. It was the flashlight that saved us. When it struck him he looked up, and the bullet hit him fair. Who is it, and what was he doing? asked Mr. Colton hoarsely. It's under him, sir, and he was alighting of it. As he spoke Sergeant Joe approached the form, and with a shove of his foot pushed it over. It rolled slightly, unbent, and now lay at full length, facing them. Josie picked up the flashlight and turned it upon the face. Oh! she cried aloud, and shivered anew, but was not surprised. I guess, said Joe slowly, they'll have to get another school superintendent. But what's it all about? What did he do? demanded Kaufman excitedly. Joe took the light from Josie's hand and turned it upon a curious object, that until now had been hidden by the dead man's body. It's an infernal machine, sir, and I ain't sure even yet that it won't go off and blow us all up. He was leaning down and bending over it, twisting that dial, you see, when on a sudden I spotted him. I didn't stop to think. My captain used to say, Act first and think afterwards, and that's what I did. I didn't know till now it was the school-boss, but it wouldn't remain any difference. I'd done my duty as I saw it, and I hope I did it right, Mr. Colton. Captain was already stooping over the machine, examining it with a skilled mechanical eye. It's ticking, he said, and began to turn the dial backward to zero. The ticking stopped. Then the inventor stood up, and with his handkerchief wiped the perspiration from his face. God! he exclaimed. This is no joke. We've all been too near death to feel comfortable. This is horrible, said Mr. Colton. I can't yet believe that Dyer could be guilty of so fiendish an act. I can, asserted Josie grimly, and it isn't the first time he has planned murder, either. Dyer was responsible for the explosion at the airplane factory. Footsteps were heard. Out of the darkness between the groups of buildings appeared two men, Chrissy and Addison. Are we too late, Mr. Gorman? asked Chrissy. Yes, she replied. How did you lose track of Dyer? He's a slippery fellow, said Addison, and threw us off the scent. But finally we traced him here and—and there he is—concluded Josie in a reproachful tone. Chrissy caught sight of the machine. Great Caesar, he exclaimed, who saved you? I did, answered Joe, putting the revolver in his hip pocket, but I wish you'd had the job, stranger. End of Chapter XXIII. Read by Cibella Denton. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter XXIV of Mary Louise and the Liberty Girls by L. Frank Baum. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. After the Crisis. Mrs. Charlworth drove Josie, who was sobbing nervously in quite bereft of her usual self-command, to Colonel Hathaway's residence. The woman was unnerved, too, and had a little to say on the journey. The old Colonel had retired, but Mary Louise was still up, reading a book, and she was shocked when Josie came running in and threw herself into her friend's arms, crying and laughing by turns hysterically. What's the matter, dear? asked Mary Louise in an anxious voice. I've bungled that whole miserable German spy plot, wailed Josie. Wasn't there any plot, then? Of course, but I grabbed the wrong end of it. Oh, I'm so glad that he wasn't here to see my humiliation. I'm a dub, Mary Louise, a miserable, ignorant, fuzzle-brained dub. Never mind, dear, said Mary Louise consolingly. No one can know everything Josie, even at our age. Now sit down and wipe that wet off your face and tell me all about it. Josie complied. She sniveled a little as she began her story, but soon became more calm. Indeed in her relation she tried to place the facts in such order that she might herself find excuses for her erroneous theories, as well as prove to Mary Louise that her suspicions of Abe Kaufman and Mrs. Charlworth were well founded. No girl is supposed to know the difference between a bomb and a cannonball, or a projectile, or whatever it is, was her friend's comment, when Josie had reached the scene in the manager's office, and any man who was a German and acts queerly is surely open to suspicion. Go on, Josie, what happened next? Even Mary Louise was startled and horrified at the terrible retribution that had overtaken Professor Dyer, although Josie's story had aroused her indignation toward him, and prepared her for the man's final infamous attempt to wreck the steel-plant. And what about Tom Linnet, she asked? Chief Farnham is to arrest him to-night, said Josie. He will confess everything, of course, and then the whole plot will be made public. Poor Mrs. Dyer, sighed Mary Louise. But fate decreed a different ending to the night's tragedy. When the police tried to arrest Tom Linnet, the young man was not to be found. He had not bought the cigar store, but with what funds remained to him he had absconded to parts unknown. Chief Farnham wired his description to all parts of the country. Meantime, on the morning after the affair at the Steelwerks, an earnest conference was held between Mr. Colton, Colonel Hathaway, Josie O'Gorman, Mrs. Charleworth, the Chief of Police, and the two Secret Service agents. At this conference it was deemed inadvisable to acquaint the public with the truth about John Dyer's villainy. The government would be fully informed, of course, but it seemed best not to tell the people of Dorfield that a supposedly respectable citizen had been in the pay of the Kaisers' agents. It would be likely to make them suspicious of one another and have a bad influence generally. The criminal had paid the penalty of his crimes. The murders he had committed and attempted to commit were avenged. So it was announced that the school superintendent had been killed by an accidental explosion at the Munition Works, and the newspapers stated that Mrs. Dyer did not desire a public funeral. Indeed, she was too overwhelmed by the tragedy to express any desire regarding the funeral, but left it all to Colonel Hathaway and Mr. Colton, who volunteered to attend to the arrangements. The burial was very un-ostentatious, and the widow received much sympathy and did not suffer in the esteem of the community. Mrs. Dyer, in fact, was never told of her husband's dishonor, and so mourned him sincerely. Early following the conference referred to, Josie brought the chief of police and the secret servicemen to her room, and in their presence dragged the old pedestal desk from her closet. Mary Louise, who had been admitted, exclaimed in surprise, Why, Josie, I thought you sent the desk to Washington. No, answered Josie, I merely shipped an empty box. I knew very well that Dyer would try to get the desk back, hoping I had not discovered its secret, so I deceived him and gained time by proving that I had sent a box on by freight. That explains his decision to take the projectile to Washington, commented Detective Chrissie. He believed he could kill two birds with one stone, get back his papers, and earn a big fee for Mrs. Charlworth. Also added Josie, he would be able to give the German master-spy full information concerning the projectile, and so reap another reward. But all his diabolical schemes were frustrated by Joe Langley's bullet. Well, here's the desk, said Chief Farnham, but where are those important papers, Miss O'Borman? And what do they prove? added Chrissie. Josie slid back the panel in the square pedestal, disclosing the two compartments filled with papers. These she allowed the police and the detectives to read, and they not only proved that John Dyer was in the pay of an organized band of German spies, having agents in Washington, New York, and Chicago, but Chrissie was confident the notes, contracts, and agreements would furnish clues leading to the discovery and apprehension of the entire band. So the papers were placed in his charge to take to Washington, and their importance was a further argument for secrecy concerning John Dyer's death. So far as I am concerned, Josie said afterward to Colonel Hathaway and Mary Louise, the spy cases ended. When they arrest Tom Linnet they will be able to prove, from the scraps of paper I found in the printing room of the hotel, that Linnet printed the circulars from copy furnished by Dyer, and that Dyer and Linnet together directed the envelopes, probably in the still hours of the morning at the hotel desk, where they were not likely to be disturbed. The circulars may not be considered legally treasonable, but the fact that Linnet personally placed the bomb that destroyed the airplane works will surely send him to the scaffold. I suppose you will be called as a witness, suggested Mary Louise, because you are the only one who overheard his verbal confession of the crime. It won't take much to make Linnet confess, predicted Josie. He is yellow all through, or he wouldn't have undertaken such a dastardly work for the sake of money. His refusal to undertake the second job was mere cowardice, not repentance. I understand that sort of criminal pretty well, and I assure you he will confess as soon as he is captured. But somewhat to the astonishment of the officers, Tom Linnet managed to evade capture. They found his trail once or twice and lost it again. After a time they discovered he had escaped into Mexico. However they heard of a young man of his description in Argentina. Finally he disappeared altogether. The arms of the law are long and strong, far reaching and mercilessly persistent. They may embrace Tom Linnet yet, but until now he has miraculously avoided them. CHAPTER XXV. Colonel Hathaway and Mary Louise were walking down the street one day when they noticed that the front of Jake Casker's clothing emporium was fairly covered with American flags. Even the signs were hidden by a fluttering display of the stars and stripes. I wonder what this means, said the Colonel. Let's go in and inquire, proposed Mary Louise. I don't suppose the man has forgiven me yet for suspecting his loyalty, but you've always defended him, Grandpa Jim, so he will probably tell you why he is celebrating. They entered the store and Casker came forward to meet them. What's the meaning of all the flags, Jake? asked the Colonel. Didn't you hear, said Casker, my boy's been shot, my little Jakey. Tears came to his eyes. Dear me! exclaimed Mary Louise with ready sympathy. I hope he—he isn't dead. No! said Casker, wiping his eyes. Not that, thank God. A shell splinter took out a piece of his leg, my little Jakey's leg, and he's in a hospital at Soissons. His letter says in a few weeks he can go back to his company. I got a letter from his Captain, too. The Captain says Jakey is a good soldier and fights like Wildcats. That's what he says of Jakey. Still—said Colonel Hathaway with a puzzled look—I do not quite understand why you should decorate so profusely on account of so sad an event. Sad! exclaimed the clothing man. Not a bit. That's glory the way I look at it, Colonel. If my Jakey's blood is spilled for his country and he can go back and spill it again, it makes great honor for the name of Casker. Say, once they called me Pro-German, because I said I hated the war. Don't my Jakey's blood put my name on America's honor roll? I'm pretty proud of Jakey. He wiped his eyes again. I'll give him an interest in the business if he comes back. And if he don't, if those cursed Germans put an end to him, then folks will say, See Jake Casker over there? Well, he gave his son for his country, his only son. Seems to me, Colonel, that evens the score. America gives us Germans protection and prosperity, and we give our blood to defend America's honor. I'm sorry I couldn't find a place for any more flags. The Colonel and Mary Louise were both a little odd, but as Casker accompanied them to the door, they strove to express their sympathy and approval. As they parted, however, the man leaned over and whispered, Just the same, I hate the war, but if it has to be, let's stand together to fight and win it. Grandpa Jim, said Mary Louise, when they were on the street again, I'm ashamed. I once told you I loved you better than my country, but Jake Casker loves his country better than his son. CHAPTER XXXVI of Mary Louise and the Liberty Girls by L. Frank Baum read for LibriVox.org into the public domain, keeping busy. The Liberty Girls were forced to abandon their shop when a substantial offer was made by a business firm to rent the store they had occupied. However, they were then, near the end of their resources, with depleted stock, for they had begged about all the odds and ends people would consent to part with. What goods remained to them were of inferior worth and slow to dispose of, so they concluded their enterprise with a grand auction. Peter cannot, acting as auctioneer, and cleaned up the entire stock in a blaze of glory, as Mary Louise enthusiastically described the event. The venture had been remarkably successful and many a soldier had caused to bless the Liberty Girls' shop for substantial comforts provided from its funds. But what can we do now? inquired Mary Louise anxiously, as the six captains met with Irene one afternoon, following the closing of the shop. We must keep busy, of course. Can't someone think of something? One and all had been thinking on that subject, it seemed. Various proposals were advanced, none of which, however, seemed entirely practical, until Irene said, We mustn't lose our reputation for originality, you know, nor must we interfere with those who are doing war relief work as well, if not much better than we could. I've pondered the case some, during the past few days, and in reading of the progress of events, I find that quite the most important thing on the government program at present is the conservation of foods. Food will win the war, is the latest slogan, and anyone who can help Mr. Hoover will be doing the utmost for our final victory. That's all very well, Irene, said Elora, but I'm sure we are all as careful as possible to conserve food. Don't ask us to eat any less, pleaded Edna, for my appetite rebels as it is. I don't see how we liberty girls can possibly help Mr. Hoover more than everyone else is doing, remarked Laura. Well, I have an idea we can, replied Irene, but this is just another case where I can only plan and you girls must execute. Now listen to my proposition. The most necessary thing to conserve, it seems, is sweet. So it seems, dear. People are eating large quantities of wheat flour simply because they don't know what else to eat, Irene continued. Now corn, properly prepared, is far more delicious, and equally as nourishing as wheat. The trouble is that people don't know how to use cornmeal and cornflour to the best advantage. That is true, and they're not likely to learn in time to apply the knowledge usefully, commented Mary Louise. Not unless you girls get busy and teach them, admitted Irene, while a smile went round the circle. Don't laugh, girls. You are all very fair cooks, and if properly trained in the methods of preparing corn for food, you could easily teach others, and soon all door-field would be eating corn and conserving wheat. That would be worthwhile, wouldn't it? But who's to train us, and how can we manage to train others? asked Mary Louise. The proposition sounds interesting, Irene, and if carried through would doubtless be valuable, but is it practical? Let us see, was the reply. Some time ago I read of the wonderful success of Mrs. Manton in preparing corn for food. She's one of the most famous professional cooks in America, and her name is already a household word. We use her cookbook every day. Now Mrs. Manton has been teaching classes in Cleveland, and I wrote her and asked what she would charge to come here and teach the Liberty Girls the practical methods of preparing her numerous corn recipes. Here's her answer, girls. She wants her expenses in one hundred dollars for two weeks work, and she will come next week if we telegraph her at once. They considered and discussed this proposition very seriously. At the Masonic Temple, said Mary Louise, there is a large and fully equipped kitchen adjoining the lodge room, and it is not in use except on special occasions. Grandpa Jim is a high mason, and so is Allure's father. Perhaps they could secure permission for us to use the lodge kitchen for our class and cookery. The Colonel and Jason Jones, being consulted, promised the use of the kitchen, and highly approved the plan of the Liberty Girls. Mrs. Manton was telegraphed to come to Dorfield, and the cookery class was soon formed. Allure confessed she had no talent whatever for cooking, but all the other five were ready to undertake the work, and a selection was made from among the other Liberty Girls, of the rank and file, which brought the total number of culinary endeavors up to fifteen, as large a class as Mrs. Manton was able to handle efficiently. While these fifteen were being trained by means of practical daily demonstration in the many appetizing preparations for the table from cornmeal and cornflour, Allure and one or two others daily visited the homes of Dorfield, and left samples of bread, buns, cookies, cakes, desserts, and other things that had come fresh from the ovens and ranges of the cooking school. At the same time an offer was made to teach the family cook, whether mistress or servant, in this patriotic branch of culinary art, and such offers were usually accepted with eagerness, especially after tasting the delicious corn dainties. When Mrs. Manton left Dorfield, after two weeks of successful work, she left fifteen Liberty Girls fully competent to teach others how to prepare every one of her famous corn recipes. And these fifteen, divided into shifts and with several large kitchens at their disposal, immediately found themselves besieged by applicants for instruction. Before winter set in, all Dorfield, as predicted by Irene, was eating corn, and liking it better than wheat. And in proof of their success, the Liberty Girls received a highly complimentary letter from Mr. Hoover, thanking them for their help in the time of the nation's greatest need. A fee, sufficient to cover the cost of the material used, had been exacted from all those willing and able to pay for instruction, so no expense was involved in this work, aside from the charges of Mrs. Manton, which were cared for by voluntary subscription on the part of a few who were interested in the Girls' Patriotic Project. Another thing the Liberty Girls did was to start community concerts one evening each week, which were held in various churches and attended by throngs of men, women, and children who joined lustily in the singing of patriotic and popular songs. This community's singing became immensely popular and did much to promote patriotic fervor as well as to entertain those in attendance. And so Mary Louise's Liberty Girls, at the time this story ends, are still active workers in the cause of liberty, justice, and democracy, and will continue to support their country's welfare as long as they can be of use. We're a real part of the war, Mary Louise has often told her co-workers, and I'm sure that in the final day of glorious victory our Girls will be found to have played no unimportant part. The End Read by Isabella Denton in Carrollton, Georgia in May 2009. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org.