"Well," said Betty, slowly, "I didn't promise I wouldn't tell—only that I wouldn't tell Bobby or Mrs. Eustice. It's Libbie who has to have the money."
She sketched Libbie's story for him rapidly, Bob listening in silence. At the end he asked a single question.
"Have you any of those notes asking for money?"
"Here's one." Betty thrust her hand into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out the crumpled paper that Libbie had shaken out of the bottle that morning.
"Were they all written on this same kind of paper?" asked Bob, reading the note.
"Ye-s, that is, I think so," hesitated Betty. "I really haven't noticed. Why?"
"Because I don't think any man wrote this," announced Bob confidently. "I think some girl at school has done it, either as a joke or to torment Libbie."
"But it's grown-up writing," protested Betty. "Though, come to think of it, we don't know any of the girls' handwriting," she added thoughtfully.
"What girl would be likely to do it?" asked Bob. "Can you recall a practical joker? This is copy book paper torn from an ordinary theme book. Yes, I'll bet a cookie a girl wrote it."
