The Mystery of the Antique Doll

by Campbell, Julie

  But evidently, Mr. Reid wasn’t through with his tirade.

  “You have some nerve, kid,” he yelled. “You know, trespassing is against the law around here!”

  Trixie stood rooted to the spot.

  “But I wasn’t—I mean, I wanted to talk to you. I was just looking...”

  Her voice trailed off as she saw the unreasoning anger on Mr. Reid’s face.

  “Listen, kid, don’t poke your nose into other people’s business, you got that?”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “But nothing. Now please leave!”

  Trixie didn’t waste any more time trying to explain. She turned and ran down Glen Road as fast as she could. She didn’t stop running until she reached the driveway of Crabapple Farm.

  She was frightened, but angry too. After all, she thought, as she tried to catch her breath, what’s a person supposed to do in an antique shop? Snoop and browse, that’s what! What a horrible man!

  Trixie stomped into the house and dropped her books on the hall table. Without even taking off her coat, she rushed over to the telephone and called Honey. She could hardly wait to hear the excuses Honey would come up with this time for Mr. Reid’s impossible behavior.

  5 * An Unusual Favor

  TRIXIE TRIED to tell Honey about Mr. Reid, but never got a word in edgewise. The minute Honey heard her voice on the telephone, she started talking.

  “Oh Trixie, I was about to call you! You’ll never guess what!” Honey’s voice was a high-pitched rush of excitement. “Daddy and Mommy have just given me the most wonderful news!”

  “Quick, tell me!” Trixie gasped, instantly forgetting why she’d called Honey in the first place.

  “Well,” Honey went on breathlessly, “you know how this is a long weekend because of the teacher conferences? Well, Daddy has to go to Paris, and guess what? They said they’re so proud of me for being a finalist in the spelling contest, and getting sent to the Eastern Regional—oh, this is so exciting I can barely talk.”

  “Come on, Honey,” Trixie begged. “Now you’ve got me all excited too!”

  “Wait till you hear! You’ll never guess. They want me to go with them, and you too!”

  “I don’t believe it!” Trixie yelped. “Whoopee! Are you sure they really want me to come too?”

  “Of course, silly,” Honey said. “After all, you’re the person who made it all possible. I mean, you’re the one who helped me get over my shyness and everything!”

  “Oh, Honey,” Trixie murmured. “I don’t know what to say!”

  “Of course you know what to say!” Honey giggled. “You’re supposed to say yes!”

  “Yes! I mean, I guess so. I have to ask Moms, though.”

  “Well, then, go ask her!” said Honey. “Oh, I’m so excited. Hurry!”

  Trixie let the phone receiver drop to the floor with a clunk as she raced into the kitchen to speak to her mother.

  Helen Belden listened quietly to the rush of words that spilled out of her excited daughter.

  “Well, dear, I don’t know what to say,” she began. “It’s rather embarrassing, you know, such a large gift. There would be no way on earth we could ever do something similar for Honey.”

  “Mo-o-ms!” Trixie groaned. “Please, pretty please with honey and sugar and tons of extra chores on top. Please?”

  Mrs. Belden smiled as she watched her daughter writhe with anxiety. “I guess so, dear. You tell Honey I said it was fine, but I would like to speak with her mother this evening. Is that all right?”

  Trixie raced back to the telephone and gave Honey the good news.

  “We can still study this weekend, too. After all, we’ll be together, won’t we?” Trixie reminded her friend.

  “That’s right,” Honey answered. “What else is there to do in Paris besides study for a spelling test?”

  Trixie’s peal of laughter could be heard all the way to Glen Road, but suddenly she stopped.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she gasped. “I forgot all about Mrs. De Keyser!”

  “I didn’t,” Honey said calmly. “Jim isn’t coming with us because of the big basketball game this weekend. He promised me that he and Mart and Brian will go over Sunday morning and help Mrs. De Keyser.”

  “Will they be able to cook for her?” Trixie asked, wondering if Mrs. De Keyser would have enough food to hold her over the long weekend.

  “Why not?” Honey answered. “Jim is actually a pretty good cook. There’s no reason why Brian and Mart can’t learn something useful, too.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Honey. I think this will be a broadening experience for them!”

  “Now here’s my plan,” began Honey, getting more serious. “We’ll stop at Mrs. De Keyser’s house after school tomorrow and do a few quick things. Then you go home and pack. Friday night, you’ll come here for dinner. Afterwards Tom will take us in the limousine to Westchester Airport. We’re taking off at about 11 o’clock, and we’ll be in Paris by morning.”

  “We’re flying at night?” Trixie marveled. “When will we sleep?”

  “We’ll sleep on the plane, silly,” Honey said with a laugh. “It takes six hours to fly across the Atlantic, but Europe is six hours ahead of the United States. We’ll arrive in Paris at 5 o’clock in the morning, New York time. But it will be 11 o’clock in the morning, Paris time.”

  “That’s too confusing for me, Honey,” Trixie said. “I only hope the seats in the plane are comfortable.”

  “Don’t worry,” Honey said. “They lean way back and turn into beds. We’ll sleep like babies.”

  Visions of the Eiffel Tower and famous painters in Left Bank cafes whirled through Trixie’s head that night. When she finally fell asleep, her dreams were filled with exotic-looking tourists and a hundred varieties of French pastries. She woke up feeling as if she’d already been to Paris and back—all in one night.

  The next day at school passed in a blur, as Trixie moved from class to class like a wooden statue. More than once, she was scolded by her teachers for not paying attention.

  After school, she and Honey did some quick housework for Mrs. De Keyser, but their minds weren’t on their jobs. Mrs. De Keyser noticed, and was infected by their excitement.

  “Oh, how wonderful it is to be young,” Mrs. De Keyser said. “I remember the first time I went to Paris, as if it were yesterday. You girls are going to have a splendid time.” Trixie whirled around the living room with the vacuum cleaner as if it were a dancing partner. Willy, overexcited by all the giggling and silliness, jumped up onto the coffee table and grabbed the feather duster. Snarling happily at it, he dashed around the corner and went racing up the stairs.

  “Willy!” Honey shouted. “I saw that, you sneaky little dog! Come back here!”

  She dashed upstairs after him, and retrieved the duster before he could do any damage.

  “I believe he thought it was a chicken,” Honey joked. “I think we should take him out for a run to make up for the loss of the feather duster!”

  Trixie and Honey put on their jackets and ran all over the backyard with Willy. Hoping to exhaust him, they took turns running him from one side of the hedge to the other. But they only succeeded in exhausting themselves. Laughing and gasping for breath, they sank down on the lawn to rest. Trixie stuck her foot through the loop in Willy’s leash to prevent him from running off.

  “Now tell me again,” she panted. “What are we going to do when we get to France?”

  “Well, for one thing,” Honey said, “we’ll still be on New York time and we might be really tired. But we probably will want to go sight-seeing anyway. So first we’ll go on that glass-covered boat on the Seine, and then we’ll go to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and then we’ll eat in a nice sidewalk cafe, and then we’ll go to this wonderful museum called the Louvre, and then—”

  “Stop!” Trixie said, falling over backwards in mock exhaustion. She flung her arms out on either side of her into a heap of dry leaves. “I can’t stand it. It’s too mu
ch. Paris! How lucky can I get?”

  “Did I hear you say Paris?” came a familiar gravelly voice from the hedge next to them. Willy started barking, but Honey stroked the little dog’s head, until he finally calmed down.

  “Why, hello, Mr. Reid,” Honey said sweetly. “Yes, we were talking about Paris.”

  “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” he said in an unusually friendly tone. He smiled warmly, and leaned forward a bit. “You wouldn’t happen to be going there soon, would you?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Trixie said haughtily, “we’re leaving tomorrow evening.”

  Remembering how nasty he had been to her the day before, Trixie wondered why Mr. Reid was so interested in their talk about Paris, and why he was being so nice all of a sudden. The other day he had thought she was nothing but a pesky teen-ager. Now, Trixie didn’t feel inclined to be polite. She wanted Mr. Reid to know she was a person to be reckoned with!

  “We happen to be flying to Paris in Mr. Wheeler’s private jet, Mr. Reid,” she continued, her nose held at a lofty angle.

  “How exciting for you girls,” Mr. Reid said in his most charming voice. “Have you been to Paris before?”

  Both Trixie and Honey answered at the same time. “Yes,” said Honey. “No,” said Trixie. And before they knew it, they were having a very chatty conversation about various galleries and restaurants that Mr. Reid felt they should visit.

  “Please call me Carl,” he said finally, after learning their names. “And now that I see what nice young ladies you are, I wonder if I might ask a favor of you?”

  Trixie tilted her head to one side, suddenly curious. She wondered what kind of favor he had in mind. Honey seemed to have no reservations, but she hadn’t been yelled at, either. In all the excitement, Trixie hadn’t gotten around to telling her the whole story of her disastrous encounter with Mr. Reid.

  “Of course,” Honey said. “If we can, we’d be happy to do a favor for you.”

  “Well, I know it might be a lot to ask,” Mr. Reid went on, “but you could be a great help to me. You see, a friend of mine has found the most exquisite antique doll. It’s now in Paris and I was planning to ship it air express. Unfortunately, so many things get broken when you ship them. They have no respect for other people’s property in those baggage areas.”

  Trixie nodded as she listened to Mr. Reid. She had heard other adults say that about freight depots.

  “I was just wondering,” he continued, “if it would be possible for you to bring the doll back to the United States for me? I would feel so much better knowing that it was in safe hands in a private plane, instead of being bounced around in the hold of one of those jumbo jets. She’s absolutely irreplaceable, and if she should be broken, well...”

  “We’d be delighted to, Mr. Reid—I mean, Carl,” Honey said politely.

  “I’ll go inside and write down the address. I’ll also give you a note to deliver when you get there,” Mr. Reid said blandly. “I feel I can trust you to handle this.”

  “I’m glad we can help you,” Trixie said, somewhat flattered at his praise. Trixie watched as Mr. Reid went into the shop. She’d almost, but not quite, forgotten how grouchy he had been. She still thought it was odd that he hadn’t known the answers to any of their questions about the antique toys, but perhaps Honey was right. Maybe he didn’t know that much about the antique toys, although he certainly seemed awfully interested in this particular doll.

  Sometimes it was so hard to tell with grown-ups, she thought, heaving a great sigh. One minute they were grouchy, and the next minute they were as sweet as sugar.

  She turned to Honey as soon as Mr. Reid was inside the shop. “Do you really think it’ll be all right if we pick up this doll for him?” she whispered.

  “I don’t see why not,” Honey answered. “After all, it won’t take too much time to just stop off somewhere. Besides, we might get to see a really interesting French antique store.”

  “That’s true,” Trixie mused. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Carl Reid returned and handed a piece of paper and a sealed envelope to Honey.

  “This one is the address, and this is a short note,” he said. “Now just give the envelope to André when you see him, and he will give you the doll.”

  He cut his smile short, and turned as if to leave. But just as quickly he turned back. “It would be better if you didn’t take the doll out of the case,” he said. There was a weak smile on his lips and Trixie couldn’t explain the cold feeling she got in the pit of her stomach. “You see, she’s packed very carefully. If she isn’t put back in correctly, she’ll shake loose and break.”

  “We understand,” Honey said, trying to sound reassuring. “We’ll just bring her straight to you.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Reid said, and with another brief look in their direction, he went into the shop.

  “He’s an odd bird,” Trixie said, after she and Honey had taken Willy back inside, and said good-bye to Mrs. De Keyser. They walked quickly along Glen Road.

  “Yes, he is a bit odd,” agreed Honey. “But lots of times people act strangely. Maybe he’s unhappy about something. Who knows?”

  “And, actually, who cares,” Trixie said. “I’ll worry about his problems after this weekend. Right now, I have too many exciting things on my mind.”

  The two girls walked home together, and then said good-night. Trixie spent the evening choosing and then discarding clothes to take on the trip. Soon she had a suitcase stuffed with clothes, but her room looked as if a cyclone had struck. Promising herself that she’d get up early the next morning and tidy up, Trixie fell into an exhausted sleep.

  The next day at school went by so slowly, Trixie was convinced that someone had poured molasses into all the clocks. But, finally, the school bus dropped Honey, Trixie, Mart, and Brian off at their stop. The boys immediately headed up the driveway, leaving Honey and Trixie at the mailbox.

  “Friday night is finally here,” Trixie said happily. “I thought I’d never get through the day!”

  “Me, too!” Honey said. “Let’s hurry and pick up your bag first. Then we’ll go to my house. Miss Trask says she has a special supper planned for us for tonight.”

  The girls ran up to the warm, delicious-smelling Belden house. Trixie, filled with glee, kissed everyone good-bye and collected her weekend case.

  “Now don’t forget to help out Jim and Brian,” she said to Mart.

  “I’ve never met anyone,” Mart said, with an admiring glance at his younger sister, “who had quite the facility that you have for getting out of chores! You’ve done it again. Every time I turn around, you have another new and exotic reason why I have to do the chores that you’ve signed up to do. You get all the credit, Miss Trixie Belden, and I get all the work!”

  “Oh, Mart,” Trixie said happily. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Don’t be jealous because I’m going to Paris.”

  “For your information, I am not jealous,” Mart said, turning his head away. “It just so happens that when I go to Europe, I plan to go by myself on a tramp steamer. I think that’s much more colorful, and more educational, too!”

  “Sour grapes,” Trixie said.

  Mart gave her a little smile, as Trixie felt Bobby’s small hand slip into hers.

  “Trixie, forget about Mart,” Bobby wheedled, as he snuggled up against her side. “Give me three more big kisses.”

  Trixie forgot about Mart, just as Bobby had asked, and gave her little brother some extra good-bye kisses and hugs.

  “Okay, Bobby,” she said at last. “Now you take good care of Reddy.”

  “And Moms, too,” Bobby said solemnly.

  The two girls were finally able to get out the door. They ran all the way along the footpath to the Manor House. In a matter of hours they would be on the plane, winging their way to a whole new world!

  6 * The Parisian Doll

  TRIXIE ADJUSTED the pillow behind her head. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and tr
ied not to listen to the excited beating of her heart. She could see through a crack in the curtain that separated the cockpit from the passenger section of the small plane. A warm blue glow emanated from the control panel, and the reassuring sight of the Wheelers’ pilot, Bob Murphy, sitting at the controls helped Trixie settle down. The plane’s engines hummed steadily.

  Closing her eyes, she reviewed the evening’s events and tried to feel a little bit sleepy. Honey and Trixie had eaten an elegant dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler. Later, they all sat around the roaring fire in the living room and discussed their plans for the trip.

  Mrs. Wheeler was planning to attend a showing at one of the couturier houses Saturday afternoon. But Honey and Trixie weren’t interested in fashion at all. At the sight of their crestfallen expressions, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler decided that the girls could be on! their own Saturday afternoon.

  Trixie felt so grown-up she didn’t even have the slightest desire to cheer when the driver came in to announce that the limousine was loaded and it was time to go.

  At the airport, Trixie was amazed at the size of the Lear jet. From the outside it had looked small, but inside it was roomy and comfortable.

  “Put your seat belts on,” Mr. Wheeler said, as he settled in and lifted his briefcase to his lap. “I’m going to work for a little while, but I’ll draw the curtain across the aisle so the light won’t keep you up.”

  “You should both try to sleep,” Mrs. Wheeler advised the girls fondly. “I know it might be difficult, but otherwise you’ll feel simply awful tomorrow.”

  Trixie and Honey did as they were told, flipping off the overhead light switches. Trixie gazed out the small window at her side. The pavement seemed to move as the plane taxied out to the runway. They stopped for about four minutes, and then suddenly the engines went into high gear. The plane moved swiftly forward. Trixie felt just as if she were glued to the back of the seat as the small jet drove forward at incredible speed.

  “We go about 180 miles an hour right before takeoff,” said Mr. Wheeler. “That’s pretty fast, isn’t it?”