The Marshland Mystery (20 page)

“What do you think, Jim?” Trixie asked of her copresident.

“I’m for it,” Jim said seriously. “I think with everybody working hard, we can pull it off. How about starting right in tonight? We’ll have a meeting at the clubhouse as soon as we get through dinner and our evening chores, and we’ll map it out like a battle campaign.”

When the mapping was done and each of them knew exactly what he or she would have to get done by the day of the sale, it didn’t look so forbidding. Trixie and Honey and Di were to ride out to Miss Rachel’s as often as possible to help her pack. They were to spread the word at school about the sale so their classmates could tell about it at home.

The boys were to letter the posters and tack them up on fences and trees, where it was allowed, and then get the direction markers ready for the morning of the sale.

“The main thing,” Trixie warned the others, “is not to say anything about how badly Miss Rachel needs the money. It’s just a closing-out sale. I think that’s what they call it.”

“Trix is right. No use letting everybody know that she’s hard up. They’ll want the stuff for practically nothing,” Mart said promptly.

“I didn’t think of that,” Trixie admitted, frowning. “I was just thinking that it would hurt Miss Rachel if people knew.” She sent Jim an appealing glance.

“Agreed! So no sob stuff, kids,” Jim said crisply.

“Okay, okay,” Mart growled, “but I hope Paul Trent doesn’t make a big thing of it.”

“I’m pretty sure he won’t,” Jim said grimly. “Dad knows the editor of the
Sun
pretty well, and after Trent wrote that stuff about the Martins, Dad filled the editor in on Trent’s motives. Mr. Trent is now under orders to lay off Miss Martin, from any angle.”

“Well, thank goodness for that!” Trixie sighed, and Honey seconded her.

“And now, let’s get the ice carnival posters off the shelf and see how many we can salvage for the sale. It’ll saye us a lot of time—and money—if we can use them again,” Brian suggested.

They were all soon at work on the posters and planning the next day’s schedule. Dan Mangan wouldn’t be able to do as much as the others, because his chores at Mr. Maypenny’s kept him very busy from early morning till late at night, with only enough time off to attend school and study. He was very happy living at the old farm. Mr. Maypenny was giving his young assistant more and more responsibility, now that Dan had learned to like the life and had put the past behind him. He had left the meeting early, but he had promised to drop over when he had a chance during the week and do what he could to get ready for the sale.

“I think Trix and I should take a run out to see Miss Rachel tomorrow and tell her what we’re planning,” Honey said as the meeting broke up.

“Good idea,” Trixie agreed. “She probably needs some good news after finding out that she has to move away so soon.”

“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.