“I think I’ll go along and take a look at that furniture you two have been raving about. I hope I can guess close to what it would be worth,” Jim said.
“And I think I’ll ride with you, too,” Mart said, with a casual wave of his hand. “Might as well decide where to nail up these route arrows.” He indicated the small wooden slats, shaped like arrows, that he had been lettering. “Get an idea how many more to make.”
“I’ll bring the lunch,” Di said demurely, “if I’m free in the morning.” She batted her eyelashes at Mart.
“Gosh, that’s swell!” Mart beamed. “We’ll stop by for you,then.”
“Let’s see, there’ll be six of us and Miss Rachel.” Brian counted on his fingers.
“Six? You going, too?” Mart asked with a frown.
“Why, of course, sonny boy! I may not know much about the price of antiques and where to put direction signposts, but I sure do love those chicken sandwiches Di’s cook makes!” Brian chuckled teasingly.
But in the morning, as they saddled up at Honey’s and got ready to ride by Di’s, it looked as if the party might be increased by one.
Gaye was there, looking very thin and tired but also very determined. She had Mr. Poo draped over her arm, as usual, and she was demanding that Regan saddle Lady for her so she could go with the others.
“But, Miss Gaye” —Regan was being very gentle with her—“your aunt told me that you weren’t to ride anymore because it tired you too much.”
Gaye stamped her foot angrily. “I don’t care! 1 want to go and see our friend Miss Rachel. She likes Mr. Poo and me to come to see her. She said so.”
Trixie looked down at the angry little face and saw that Gaye was close to tears. Poor little thing! They had hardly had a glimpse of her all week. Impulsively, Trixie slid out of her saddle and went to her.
“We’re only going to stay out there a little while,” she explained. “There’s something we have to arrange with Miss Rachel. This is a sort of business call.”
Gaye looked sullen. Then she dashed away the tears with the back of her hand, and her thin little jaw set. “I know where you’re going! You’re going to go out there and dig up the gold that her great-grandpa hid. I know all about it!”
Trixie was surprised. “Oh, come now, Gaye! There isn’t any such thing! Whoever said that is silly!”
“That’s what you said about the pirate treasure. You always say that. And I don’t believe you! Mitzi, my maid, says that cook told her—” She stopped abruptly as Mart laughed; she turned her glare on him. “And you needn’t think you can fool me by laughing!” She turned and ran up the driveway and around the side of the garage.
They all sat for a moment, staring after her, and then, as Trixie climbed into her saddle again, Jim said seriously, “What was that all about? I mean the pirate treasure thing. I know where the maid got the rest of the yarn.”
“Why, on our way back from Miss Rachel’s the other day in the limousine, we happened to mention that old legend about the pirate loot that dopey people used to think was buried in the swamp. Gaye got all excited and said the oddest thing. Didn’t she, Honey?” Trixie turned to her friend.
“That’s right. She said she wouldn’t be afraid to look for the pirate gold in the swamp and she was sure she and Mr. Poo could find it,” Honey explained.
“That’s just the usual kid talk,” Brian chuckled. “What’s so odd about that?”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” Trixie told them soberly. “It was what she said afterward. She said she’d dig up the gold and give it to her Aunt Della, and then she wouldn’t ever have to play her old violin again or go traveling all the time when she was tired!”
“That was only kid stuff, too, Trix,” Mart told her.
“No,” Trixie said. “After she said it, she put her face down on the puppy’s head, and I know she cried most of the way back to Honey’s.”
“Tired out, poor kid,” Jim said, his green eyes darkening with sympathy. “That greedy aunt of hers....
They rode on then, a bit gloomy and silent. But the gloom disappeared when they saw Miss Rachel’s happy face as they told her their plans for the next Saturday’s sale.
“You are all dear, dear children,” she told them with a little catch in her voice, “and I know the sale will be very successful.”
“My mother will be here,” Di said as she spread out the lunch on Miss Rachel’s kitchen table. “She adores antiques.”
“Mine, too, I suspect.” Honey laughed and added, “And most of the ladies of the Arts Club—all looking for bargains.”
“Which they won’t get,” Jim grinned. “Now that I’ve seen what’s here, I can just about guarantee that, instead of hundreds of dollars, you’ll have a couple of thousand by the time the day’s over.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Miss Rachel said breathlessly.
They all silently echoed her words.
When they dismounted at the Wheeler stable a little later, they found Gaye waiting for them. She ran to meet them, shouting, “Did you find the miser’s gold? Where did he hide it? Let me see, right now!”
Trixie slipped out of her saddle. “We didn’t go looking for anybody's gold, because we know there couldn’t possibly be any! We didn’t even go near the old ruins!”
“I don’t believe you!” Gaye frowned.
“We did bring you something, though,” Honey said with a smile, holding out a bouquet of sweet violets to Gaye. “Miss Rachel picked the very best of her flowers for you.”
The scowl faded as Gaye put out her hand to take the violets. “Th-Thank you, Honey,” she said gravely. “They are very pretty.” Then she turned away and went toward the house, carrying the flowers carefully in both hands.
“I really believe something touched that little heart of stone,” Mart said, “at last.”
Trixie sighed. “I wish she’d quit talking about that hidden gold. First thing you know, I’ll believe it myself and probably break my fool neck climbing around that silly place looking for it!” She looked away thoughtfully.
Honey stared at her. She knew Trixie. “Don’t you dare try it!” she said severely.
Trixie laughed. “I was talking to myself. Please excuse!”
“Well, tell yourself something else, dreamer—like Moms is probably fit to be tied right now. I heard her make a date at the beauty parlor for this afternoon at three, and if you don’t get home to take Bobby off her hands, there’s going to be one wrecked beauty parlor in Sleepyside!” Mart pointed an accusing finger at her.
“Gleeps! Thanks for reminding me!” And she dashed into the stable, dragging patient Susie after her.
Complications • 20
GETTING READY for the sale turned out to be a lot more work than any of the Bob-Whites had thought it would be. There were the old trunks to go through, discarded things to dispose of for Miss Rachel, and a great deal of packing. In addition, the furniture that was to be sold had to be polished and gotten into the best condition possible. And the posters had to be finished.
They had only two or three evenings free to go out there and lend a hand as a group, but Trixie managed to wheedle Brian into taking her almost every evening. Sometimes they picked up Di to go along; sometimes it was Honey who was free. And they all worked hard.
Finally it was Friday night, and everything seemed ready for the big day to come. They were exhausted. Trixie sat down by the rosewood desk and looked at the dragon box with loving eyes. “Somebody will buy you, my lovely monster,” she said, patting the top dragon fondly. “I hope he likes you as much as I do.”
“Loopy! That’s what my sister is,” Mart’s voice came from the kitchen doorway. “Talks to dragons. Can’t tell me she isn’t a witch!”
Trixie made a face at him, lifted the heavy box down to the flat surface of the desk, and started to lower the desk lid. The lid slipped from her fingers and banged down hard on the base. Then she caught her breath. “Mart, come quick! Look!”
With a slight
scraping noise, a small door swung out from the carved side of the desk. Until that moment, the carving had shown no crack, but now a whole section of the pattern came open. “It’s a secret door!” Trixie exclaimed.
“Concealing diamonds and pearls, I hope!” Di exclaimed as she and the others hurried in to see what had made Trixie call out.
But when the door was opened to its full width, the only thing visible inside the compartment was a thin packet of letters in yellowed envelopes with strange, foreign stamps on them. Silk cord tied the packet, and an ancient twig of some sort of scented wood was caught in it.
They gathered around hopefully as Miss Rachel, as excited as anyone, took out the letters and glanced at them. “A Chinese stamp,” she said, puzzled, and undid the knot in the silk cord.
They all held their breath as she scanned the single page of the first letter. “Why, it’s only a letter from my great-grandfather Ezarach to his bride, Molly. He says he’s sending her a gift of great price on their first wedding anniversary—” She read for a moment in silence, with a tender smile, and then again became conscious of the ring of young faces. “He says he has seen many strange things but never anything like this, and he hopes it will guard her safely till his return.” She read a little more in silence, then, “And he closes, hoping that the scent of the sandalwood will remind her of the incense of their wedding day.” She sighed.
“Probably a bottle of myrrh, whatever that is,” Di said dreamily. “Why don’t people write romantic things like that nowadays?”
“Wonder what he meant by guarding her,” Trixie said. “Hey!” She brightened. “I bet it was a pistol all inlaid with pearl, or a sword with a golden hilt. Wonder what became of it!”
“I’m afraid that’s something we will never know now,” Miss Rachel said with a little sigh. “This letter must be close to a hundred years old.”
“Gleeps!” Trixie said and then lapsed into gloom. “We’d better leave pretty soon,” Brian reminded them. “Tomorrow’s going to start awfully early and last a long time.”
“Before you go,” Miss Rachel told them, “I want you to know that no matter how the sale turns out tomorrow, I’ll never forget the kindness of all of you.”
“That’s okay,” Brian said hastily, his dark cheeks blushing with embarrassment. “Come on, squaws. You going to hang around all night?”
Brian hustled them out to the car without ceremony, but when they were safely in, Mart still hadn’t come out of the cottage. “Mart!” he yelled and honked.
A moment later, Mart came scurrying out, carrying a newspaper-wrapped bundle under his arm.
“What’s that?” Brian asked crossly.
“Could be a bread box, but it isn’t,” Mart answered saucily, making the girls giggle. “And I don’t want any of you trying to peek at it. Get me?”
“Oh, who wants to?” Trixie retorted, but under her flippancy, she was excited. She felt sure she could guess what was in that package, and she meant to find out as soon as Mart had hidden it. She knew most of his hiding spots, though he had never suspected it.
Miss Martin had asked her several times to pick out a gift for herself among the antique furnishings of the cottage, but Trixie had insisted that she didn’t want a thing. Only Honey could have guessed what Trixie really wanted, or maybe Mart himself, after their little exchange tonight.
She felt sure it was to be a birthday gift. Her fourteenth birthday was only a week away now, but she couldn’t wait. She had to see her box again tonight.
“What do you suppose is in that package?” Honey asked in a whisper.
“Goodness!” Trixie pretended to cover a yawn. “How can I guess what silly secret my little twin might have?”
She said it loudly enough for Mart to hear, but all she got from him in answer was a dry “Don’t you wish you could?” which made Honey and Di both giggle and also made Trixie sure she had guessed right.
“Why don’t you try three guesses?” Mart gibed.
But Trixie was too happy to bother to answer. At the moment, she was trying to decide just where she would keep the dragon box in her room. Somewhere up high, out of Bobby’s reach till he grew older, of course.
Brian stopped the car on the sloping driveway and left it pointed down toward the road so they could roll down to start the motor instead of making a racket with the ancient starter. They would be leaving early.
Mart got out and took the mysterious package into the house with him. Trixie followed him in, wishing she could say, “Let me carry my dragon box.” But that would spoil the surprise, so she didn’t say it.
Their parents were still up and waiting to hear how things were going out at the Martin cottage.
Mart put down his package and poured himself a glass of milk at the refrigerator. “Everything’s great, except Jim can’t be there,” he said. “But he’s given Trix and Honey and Miss Rachel herself a list of prices to ask, so they don’t really need an auctioneer. Of course, I could have done it, but—”
“I’m glad you decided not to,” his father said dryly. “The fact is, I’ll need both you and Brian here all day. We’ve got to get the kitchen garden planted for your mother. We’re supposed to have rain by Sunday.”
“Suits me.” Mart grinned. “Saves a lot of hard labor moving the furniture out to the shopping ladies’ station wagons. Let ’em bring their own muscle guys!”
“Check!” Brian agreed. “I’ll drop the girls out there and come back.”
None of them noticed Bobby, in his sleepers, come to the kitchen door, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He stood yawning a moment, then spotted Mart’s package and made a beeline for it. He climbed up on a chair and started tearing off the newspaper wrapping.
Trixie heard the paper rattle. “Bobby!” she exclaimed and made a dash for him. “Leave my dragon box alone!” Bobby was so startled that he gave a hard pull on the newspaper, and the box slid off onto the floor.
“My box!My box!” Trixie wailed and fell to her knees to gather it up. “If you’ve broken it—”
“What’s going on?” Mr. Belden asked sharply. Mart was standing with a baffled expression on his face, and Brian was frowning puzzledly.
“I guess I should have known that nobody can keep a secret around here,” Mart growled. “Okay, take your silly brass box. It’s a birthday present from Miss Rachel. But, for the love of pete, don’t let her know you’ve got it now, way ahead of time. She’ll be disgusted!”
“Don’t worry. I won’t!” She hugged the box to her. “It’s going to go right on the highest shelf in my room, and I won’t even think about it till my birthday!”
“I don’t like the idea of your taking any presents from Miss Rachel,” her father said, with a little frown, “but I suppose it would hurt her feelings if you took it back. And it’s not anything that would bring her more than a couple of dollars at the sale. So....” He shrugged.
“Dad, you’re just the best!” Trixie beamed at him. “Goodnight, everybody! See you in the morning!” And she fled out into the hall and up to her room before anyone had a chance to have a second thought.
In the morning, she was up at daybreak and lost no time shaking Brian awake. “Up!” she ordered. “I’ll fix breakfast and call Honey and Di to get ready. Hurry!”
“Why,” he groaned sleepily, “did I ever let myself be talked into playing chauffeur for a bevy of females?”
“Because one of them has bee-yootiful hazel eyes! And it isn’t me!” And she dashed out into the hall so fast that the pillow Brian hurled missed her.
By the time they were dressed and had snatched a quick bite of coffee cake and a glass of milk, full daylight had arrived. But it was a gray morning, and over in the east the clouds were dark and threatening.
“There’s that storm that’s due here tomorrow,” Trixie said as they rode along Glen Road in the jalopy. “It looks kind of close, to me.”
“I hope it holds off,” Brian said, turning up into Honey’s driveway. Then he stepped on the b
rake suddenly as two figures came down the drive from the house. “Hey, look! Gaye!”
“Carrying Mr. Poo like a stuffed doll, poor guy,” Brian chuckled. “And what’s that in her other hand? Looks like a suitcase.”
Trixie jumped out of the car and ran to meet them. “Good morning, Gaye. Aren’t you up early for a young lady who’s playing a concert tonight?” she asked gaily. Honey said quickly, “She’s going with us.”
“Uh-oh!” Trixie said doubtfully. “Does Miss Crandall know about it?”
“Of course she does!” Gaye scowled. “I told her I was going to the sale, and she said—” she seemed to be looking for the right word—“she told me, ‘Go ahead, but be sure to be back early.’ ”
The two girls and Brian exchanged looks, but Gaye didn’t wait. She climbed into the front seat next to Brian and settled down determinedly.
“And what’s in there?” Brian asked, nodding toward the small suitcase.
“Oh, just Mr. Poo’s lunch. He’s on a very special diet— for his nerves, you know.”
“First time I ever heard of that,” Brian said, laughing softly. He beckoned to the two girls, who were still standing, undecided, beside the car. “Climb in and let’s go.”
They picked up Di at her gate, and she crowded in with Honey and Trix. Gaye was very silent in the front seat as Trixie told Di about Bobby and the brass box. She yawned a couple of times and then let her head fall against Brian’s arm. When it stayed there in spite of the bumpy road, Brian realized that the tired little girl was sound asleep.
Even after they stopped at Miss Rachel’s gate, she slept on. Brian gathered her up in his arms and took her inside the cottage, the small poodle close behind.
“Oh, the poor baby!” Miss Rachel whispered, seeing the drawn little face. “Put her down on the couch and let her have her sleep out.”
Brian would have liked to stay awhile, but he knew he was needed at home, so after a few minutes and a handful of Miss Rachel’s raisin cookies, he left.
The Marshland Mystery Page 15