Into the maelstrom of Fifth Avenue activity Margaret and Aunt Abbie plunged one sunshiny November morning. In Margaret’s heart was the desire to buy, not for herself but for her relatives and her friends. Also, in her mind ran the injunction about doing one’s Christmas shopping early. At Joseph’s she purchased some jeweled buckles, and then a handsome vanity box. Top and sides, it was a magnificent product of the gold-worker’s art, and Our Mutual Girl took especial satisfaction in the fact that it never had been duplicated or copied. When they started across the sidewalk to their limousine, they ran into Betty Hamilton. “Margaret! You dear! You’re the very person I’ve been looking for!” cried Betty, “I want you to promise that you will go with me to-night to a Thanksgiving house party at one of my friend’s. Ralph is to be there.” Just here Margaret interrupted her with some perfectly irrelevant remark, but in the end she accepted the invitation, of course. Aunt Abbie had left them and gone about some mysterious holiday purchases of her own. Betty had an appointment. And so Our Mutual Girl started back to Westchester alone. It was nearly dark when suddenly the car came to a stop in a lonely stretch of country road. Murray, the chauffeur, got out to work over the recalcitrant carburetor, and Margaret left the car and stood near him. Somehow she had an uneasy feeling, and just then two men came out of the bushes. They engaged the chauffeur in aimless talk. While one of them held his attention, the other darted toward Margaret and snatched her gold handbag. Then they both ran. Murray started in pursuit, but Margaret called him back. She did not so much mourn the loss of her mesh purse as she regretted the stealing of the gold vanity case which was inside, but she had no mind to be left alone in the dark and deserted road. Our Mutual Girl was a bit late in reaching the house of the Thanksgiving festivities that evening. She explained her tardiness by recounting her unpleasant adventure. Not long after, the butler announced the arrival of their hostess’s uncle. It seemed that he had been warned by letter that he was to be robbed of an heirloom and had hastened with the jewel to his niece’s house, thinking thus to defeat the plans of the robbers. Highwaymen, however, are not to be so easily forestalled. The dinner had passed off merrily and everybody was having the best sort of a time when the uncle discovered that his gem was gone. Our Mutual Girl had not had repeated experiences with burglars and kidnappers and stolen jewels for nothing. She went to the garage, ordered a car, picked up two policemen on post nearby, and tracing footprints on the lawn, led the officers to the spot where the two thieves were engaged in deep-toned altercation. As she suspected they turned out to be the same crooks who had snatched her handbag a few hours before. With the help of the policemen, Our Mutual Girl conducted her captives back to her hostess’s drawing room in triumph. Both the jewel and the vanity box were recovered.