The Secret of the Mansion (7 page)

the window, she saw Honey coming up the driveway.

Trixie leaned out the bathroom window, whispering hoarsely, “Bobby was bitten by a snake. I don’t want to frighten him, and I don’t know whether it was

a copperhead or not, but I’ve got to give him first aid, anyway,

74 64 because we might not be able to get a doctor out here from town for half an hour.”

She tore downstairs and almost collided with Honey in the hall. “You hold him in your arms,” she whispered to Honey, “while I cut the fang marks with this

razor blade. The quieter he is, the less chance there’ll be of the poison spreading.”

Luckily, Bud had followed Honey into the house, and Bobby was so happy hugging the little puppy he hardly felt the quick incisions Trixie made in his toe.

“I’m going to suck out as much blood as I can with my mouth,” Trixie told Honey over her shoulder. “You call Doctor Ferris and ask him to come out right

away with the antivenin. The phone’s in the study, and the doctor’s number’s on a card on the wall over the desk.”

When Honey came back saying that Dr. Ferris was on his way, Bobby was laughing. “Trixie’s pretending to be a mosquito,” he said. “She’s sucking all the

blood out of my toe.”

With half of her consciousness, between sucking and spitting out the blood and venom, Trixie noticed that Honey’s face was as white as a sheet and wondered

vaguely if she herself looked as sick.

“That tourniquet must have been on fifteen minutes, now,” she told herself after a while. “I’ll have to

75 65 take it off for a minute.” Gratefully she saw that the swelling in Bobby’s toe had not yet spread to his foot, so she replaced the tourniquet where

she had put it originally, sucking and spitting all the time. Every now and then Bobby complained that his toe felt like it was on fire, so Trixie knew

there could be no doubt, now, that he had been bitten by a copperhead.

It seemed like hours before they heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway, and every minute of the long wait Trixie lived in her imagination with

old Mr. Frayne and his wife on that lonely road in a car that wouldn’t start. “I guess I’d go crazy, too, if that happened to me,” she admitted, almost

hysterically. “Oh, Bobby, Bobby, you’ve just got to get well!”

Dr. Ferris came quickly into the room and crossed over to where Trixie was kneeling beside the little boy. “How long has this tourniquet been on?” he asked

as he carefully examined the bleeding, swollen toe.

“About fifteen minutes for the second time,” Trixie said anxiously, as she glanced at the clock over the fireplace.

Dr. Ferris opened his black leather case. “Then you’ve applied suction for half an hour?” As Trixie nodded, he removed the tourniquet and took out his hypodermic

syringe. “Then that’s all we need of that,” he said

76 66 quietly. “Now, I want to wrap this boy in a blanket and pack the toe in ice. Then we’ll give him some nice hot tea, just in case he has suffered any

shock.”

Trixie had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering as she got the blanket and ice and put water on to boil. She left Honey in the kitchen making

the tea and when she came back into the living-room, the doctor was repacking his kit. He smiled at her reassuringly.

“You did a good job, Trixie,” he said, “so I only gave him a little of the antivenin. Lucky I had a fresh supply on hand. Ordered some last week in case

those boys at that camp up the river got into trouble.”

“Doctor Ferris gave me a shot,” Bobby told Trixie with a weak little grin. “And I didn’t yell. I never yell when I get a shot.”

Trixie swallowed hard. “You’re a very brave boy, Bobby,” she said softly. “Very, very brave.” Trixie’s knees were shaking now.

Honey came in with the tray then, and her hands were shaking so that the cup and saucer rattled against each other. When Bobby had finished drinking the

hot tea through a straw the kindly old doctor lifted him gently and carried him carefully upstairs to his bed. “We’ll have to keep you quiet for a few

days, young man,” he

77 67 said, “and then you’ll be as good as new.” He tucked blankets around the little boy and turned to Trixie. “Just let me examine your mouth, Trixie,”

he said, producing a little flashlight from his pocket. “Ah, good, good. There aren’t any cuts or sores.”

Trixie heard the station wagon in the driveway then, and she ran out to tell her mother what had happened. Mrs. Belden’s face was pale as Honey’s as she

hurried past Trixie into the house and up the stairs. Dr. Ferris was assuring her that there was nothing to worry about when Trixie followed her mother

into Bobby’s room. Trixie’s legs were shaking again, and she had to bite her lips to keep back the tears. “It was all my fault,” she kept telling herself.

“All my fault.”

“Trixie worked so quickly with the tourniquet and the cut and suck method,” Dr. Ferris was saying cheerfully, “that I doubt if Bobby really needed the antivenin.

He may suffer from shock, so keep him warm and quiet. He’ll probably run quite a high fever tonight, but don’t worry. He’s a husky lad and he couldn’t

have been bitten in a safer place, if it had to happen.” He laid his hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “You’re a very level-headed young lady,” he said. “Any

time you decide you want a job as a nurse just let me know.”

“Thank you, Trixie,” Mrs. Belden said, her face

78 68 buried in Bobby’s neck. “Your father is going to be very proud of you

Trixie felt sickeningly weak, then, and her whole body began to shake. If her mother had scolded her for not taking otter care of Bobby, she would have

felt better. Choking bobs welled up in her throat, and she turned and ran blindly out of the room and into the hall.

Downstairs, she flung herself on the sofa and let the tears flow. From somewhere far off, she heard Honey say, ,j guess I’ll be going home now, Trixie.

That is, unless I n help you in some way.”

Trixie got out a mumbled, “Thanks for everything, Honey,” and lay there crying quietly until she heard her father come in the door.

79 69

A Runaway

Trixie slept late the next morning. She had hardly closed her eyes all night, worrying about Bobby and listening to her father and mother as they took turns

sitting with him. When she woke up, the first thing she did was to tiptoe to his room to see how he was.

Mrs. Belden smiled at her from the rocking chair beside Bobby’s bunk. “He’s fine, Trixie,” she said. “He had very little fever last night, and there’s almost

no swelling in his foot. Doctor Ferris stopped by early this morning and said he’s out of all danger, now. We won’t have to worry about him.”

Bobby looked feverish, and there were dark lines under his eyes. “Go ‘way,” he told Trixie in a weak, fretful voice. “Mummy’s reading to me.”

“You stay with him, Moms,” Trixie cried impulsively. “I’ll take care of the house and the chickens and everything.”

“Dad cooked breakfast,” Mrs. Belden said, with a laugh. “A whole pound of bacon, I gather, and I imagine he left the dishes for you. But he’s bringing a

practical

80 70 nurse out from the village to help me, and he said explicitly that he wanted you to go ahead and have your riding lesson.” Trixie flushed, remembering

how her father had praised her the evening before. “Just give the downstairs a lick and a promise,” her mother finished, “and then run along. Honey is

here. She has been waiting for you since nine.”

Trixie found Honey in the bright red and white kitchen. “I arrived just as the doctor was leaving,” she told Trixie. “I was awfully glad to hear that Bobby’s

going to be all right.” She pirouetted around the room. “How do you like my dungarees? Miss Trask drove to White Plains for them yesterday afternoon.”

“Great!” Trixie gulped down a big glass of cold orange juice and spread butter on slices of bread for a bacon sandwich. “I’d better make several of these,”

she said. “You-know-who is probably ravenous this morning.”

Honey shook her head. “No, he’s all taken care of. I went up there when your mother said you were still asleep. I smuggled some dry cereal and hard-boiled

eggs out of our kitchen, but he’d already eaten. At least, he was just starting. He’d shot a rabbit and was cooking it over an outdoor spit. He gave me

a piece; and, Trixie, I never tasted anything so delicious.”

81 71 Trixie grinned. “You and your birdlike appetite!” “I’m hungry all the time now,” Honey admitted,

smiling. “I had eggs and cereal for breakfast, rabbit with Jim, and that bacon smelled so good I had a sandwich while I was waiting for you.” She sobered

suddenly. “But I had an awful dream last night. The worst nightmare I ever had. I’ll tell you about it on the way over to our place. Regan’s waiting to

give you a lesson in posting.”

“Tell me, now,” Trixie said, bringing her dishes to the piled-up sink. “I’ve got to do some straightening-up around here before I can leave for the stables

with you.”

“I’ll dry.” Honey slipped a dish towel off the rack. “I learned to do dishes and make beds at camp, so I’ll help.” “Wonderful,” Trixie cried enthusiastically.

And,

with Honey’s assistance, it took them less than half an hour to tidy up the house. While they swept and dusted, Honey related her dream.

“I was walking through the woods,” she said, with a reminiscent shiver. “It was so real I still can’t believe I

was only dreaming. Anyway, I was walking along toward the Miser’s Mansion and it was all quiet and* creepy the way it is in the thick part of the woods,

when suddenly I heard something rustling along the path ahead of me. It was a great big black snake with a thick white stripe down its back, and it was

coming toward 72 me as fast as it could. I just stood there, too scared to move or scream or anything. You know how it is in dreams-you’re just rooted

to the spot.”

Trixie nodded sympathetically. “And then what?” “And then, just as it reached my feet, I woke up,” Honey continued. I was dripping wet with cold perspiration,

and I guess I must have cried out without knowing it, because Miss Trask was bending over me, wiping my face with a damp washcloth and speaking softly.”

Trixie wondered why it was always Miss Trask, and never Honey’s mother, who came when Honey was frightened, but she said nothing.

“I told her about the dream,” Honey went on, “and she said it was perfectly natural for me to have a nightmare like that after what happened to Bobby, yesterday.

I’m surprised you didn’t have a nightmare yourself, Trixie.”

“The whole thing was a nightmare to me,” Trixie said, “and I was so upset I couldn’t sleep long enough to have a bad dream.”

“You didn’t seem upset at all,” Honey cried admiringly. “You were perfectly wonderful. I don’t know how you did all the right things without losing your

head.”

They cut across the lawn to the path that led to the Wheeler estate, and Honey said, “Oh, I meant to tell you

84 73 the first thing. Jim isn’t mad at you any more-He said he was sorry he lost his temper yesterday, and when I told him about MY dream, he said you

were right. lie shouldn’t have frightened me with stories about ma-d animals, because the chances of my being attacked -by one are about one in a million.”

She flushed. “I told him I was scared of everything, anyway, so he hadn’t really made things any worse.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have accused him of lying,” Trixie said quickly. “And I’m glad he’s not mad. I like Jim and I feel awfully sorry for him. If you ask

me, I think he’s jumped out of the frying pan into the fire by running away. I can’t believe his stepfather could be any meaner to him than old man Frayne

would be.”

“I don’t know about that,” Honey said as she walked along the narrow path behind Trixie. “Jim’s terribly afraid of Jonesy, What worries me is that his stepfather

may be looking for him right now, and why wouldn’t the Mansion be the most obvious Place?”

“That’s right,” Trixie agreed. “It’d be horrible if Jonesy should sneak up there at night and catch Jim in his sleep. But what worries me is that even if

his uncle does get well, he may not be any nicer to Jim than Jonesy was. Oh, ginger,” she interrupted herself, “that reminds me. I forgot to ask Dad last

night how Mr. Frayne was.” 74 “I figured you’d forget in all the excitement,” Honey said, “so I called the hospital the first chance I got this morning,

saying I was a neighbor. The nurse who answered the phone wouldn’t say anything except that the patient’s condition was unchanged. I guess that means he’s

still unconscious, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Trixie said. “I hope he doesn’t die without telling somebody where he hid his money.”

“I wish I was as sure as you are,” Honey said doubtfully, “that there is some money. It must be terrible to be poor and not have a father or mother or anybody

to care about you.”

Regan was exercising Jupiter when they arrived at the stable and had Lady and Strawberry saddled and bridled, waiting for them. “Up you go,” he told Trixie

cheerfully. “And, unless I don’t know a natural-born rider when I see one, you’ll learn how to post a trot this very morning.”

Regan’s prediction turned out to be true. Although Trixie was jostled about a lot the first few minutes and almost lost her stirrups again, she found to