That evening the village was again brilliantly lighted and thereafter the big dynamos whirled peacefully and without interruption.
The girls had a busy day, as Uncle John had predicted, for all the exciting incidents of the evening and night before had to be written up and the next day's paper teemed with "news" of a character to interest all its readers.

Beth's editorial declared the neighborhood well rid of the paper mill, which had been of little advantage but had caused no end of annoyance because of the rough and mischievous character of the workmen employed.

In this statement nearly everyone agreed with her.
Several had been wounded in the riot of the eventful evening, but none seriously injured.

The workmen took away their damaged comrades and Lon Taft drove over to Huntingdon and had his head sewed up by the doctor.
Other villagers suffered mere bruises, but all who engaged in the fight posed as heroes and even Peggy McNutt, who figured as "not present," told marvelous tales of how he had worsted seven mill hands in a stand-up fight, using only his invincible fists.
The following forenoon the liveryman at the Junction brought to Millville a passenger who had arrived by the morning train--a quiet, boyish-looking man with a shock of brick-red hair and a thin, freckled face.

He was driven directly to the Merrick farm, where Uncle John received him cordially, but with surprise, and at once favored the new arrival with a long interview in his private room.
The girls, who had not yet gone to the office, awaited somewhat impatiently the result of this conference, for they already knew the red-headed youth to be the great Fogerty--admitted by even his would-be rivals, the king of New York detectives.