His blue eyes stared up at her with a frightened expression, and the tears started to roll down his fat cheeks. “I hurted myself!” he wailed.
“Oh, darling! Let me see!” The broken antique was forgotten as Trixie dropped to her knees and helped Bobby up out of the scattered fragments of the ornament. She made a quick examination of knees and elbows, but could find no cuts or bruises. “Thank goodness, you’re all right!”
Bobby sniffed. “That oF chair!” He kicked at the offending piece of furniture, “It wiggled, and I failed!”
Trixie looked at the remains of her antique cat and sighed. The head was almost in one piece except for one missing ear; but the body was beyond salvaging.
Bobby saw her expression and threw his arms around her neck. “I’m sorry. I only meant to pet Spotty. I’ll buy you another one just like him if you won’t cry.”
Trixie hugged him hard and laughed. “Never mind, hon. I was sort of tired of dusting him, anyhow. And he was awfully old. You can’t buy such funny-looking kitties nowadays.”
Bobby sniffed doubtfully and then brightened. “I’ll give you my teddy bear if you’d like.” He said it bravely but Trixie knew he hoped she would say no.
“Goodness, no!” she said brightly. “He wouldn’t be happy at all with me! He’s always slept with you, and just think how he’d feel if I rolled on him some night and squashed him!”
“Yeah!” Bobby nodded vigorously. “Okay, then. I’ll keep him myself, an’ I’ll find another kitty for you somewheres.” He looked determined.
“Good! Maybe one of these days we’ll find a live one that looks just like Spotty, and Moms will let us keep him. How would that be?” She smiled. “A live one?”
Bobby nodded solemnly. “Without claws.” And having settled that, he demanded, “How soon is supper?”
“Jeepers! I forgot. Moms said for us to hustle out to the kale patch and dig up some greens for Dad’s supper. He’s been talking about wanting some for the last three days, and she wants to surprise him tonight!”
She hurried Bobby into his outdoor clothes, and, as he ran down to put his overshoes on in the front hall, she swept up the remains of Spotty. Dad’s sister, Aunt Alicia, would have a fit when she found out that Spotty was among the missing. It was a family antique that she had sent Moms and Dad as a wedding present years ago.
The vegetable garden was still blanketed with the two-day-old snow, but underneath, the kale was good as ever. They gathered a small basketful and then threw snowballs at each other and romped till they were both red-cheeked.
When they came into the warm kitchen, they were still laughing and rosy. “Here, Moms! We got ’um all. Now we won t have to eat that stuff anymore till next year, will we?” Bobby asked very hopefully.
Moms glanced at the store of vegetables in the basket. Then she said, keeping a straight face, “No, dear. We can start on the canned spinach instead.”
Bobby’s look of distress made them both laugh. “Better wash your hands and face now, Son,” his mother told him quickly. “We’re having a very special guest to dinner and to spend the weekend with US.”
Bobby was delighted to obey. He didn’t care who the company was, just so it was company. And he dashed out to get ready without even asking.
“Who is it, Moms?” Trixie asked at once.
Moms laughed as she told her. “One of Bobby’s special friends. A young lady who doesn’t mind reading him his favorite stories over and over, even if they bore her!”
"Moms!” Trixie was delighted. “Honeys coming to stay here! Golly! What happened? What did she say?”
“Miss Trask phoned just now to see if it would be all right for Honey to spend the weekend with you. Her dad had an unexpected business conference called on the Coast and he and Mrs. Wheeler must leave tonight. And Jim had already arranged to be gone on a field trip with his biology group to study the Catskill wildlife. Honey would have been alone. Naturally, I said we’d love to have her!”
“Super!” Trixie hugged herself with delight. Then she had a disquieting thought. “Did Miss Trask say if Honey got a chance to ask them about the ice carnival?”
“No, dear. You’ll find out as soon as Honey gets here.”
“Maybe I ought to phone and tell her how glad I am she’s coming.” Trixie couldn’t wait.
“I don’t think you need to, dear. But unless I get a little help, we’re going to have a very late dinner, and I’m sure Dad won’t like that.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry, Moms!” Trixie flung off her heavy jacket and scarf. “I’ve been in such a dither all day.”
“A perfectly understandable condition,” Mart’s voice said dryly from the doorway, “brought on by a complete lack of mental coordination.”
Moms held back a smile as Trixie faced her almost-twin with a stormy glare. She was used to their duels.
But this time Trixie didn’t merely sniff at her teasing brother, as usual. Instead, the glare faded into a cool stare as she said very deliberately, “The use of too many polysyllabic words is definitely a symptom of immaturity.” Brian had spent half an hour at lunchtime drilling her in that answer in preparation for just such a moment. She wasn’t entirely sure what all the words meant, but Brian had assured her it would stop Mart in his tracks if she didn’t bungle it.
It certainly had that effect. Mart’s jaw dropped, and he stared at his sister with a bewildered expression. Then, as a delighted grin lit up her face, he turned and stalked down the hall without even trying to answer.
“Oh, boy! I’ve got to tell Brian! That really killed him!” Trixie chortled as she went to work on the potatoes.
Dinner was almost ready and Dad was home from Sleepyside and in his slippers when Honey came up the path carrying her overnight bag.
Trixie, clearing out a drawer in her dresser for Honey’s things, glanced out of the window and saw her friend coming. She flung up the window to yell a welcome to her, but as she did, and with the words, “I’ll be right down!” still unspoken on her lips, she stared in silent surprise.
Brian, looking dark and handsome, as usual, and wearing his new cashmere sweater and best trousers, was hurrying down the path to meet Honey.
Close at his heels, also slicked up and wearing his sharpest ski sweater, went Mart. Even at this distance Trixie could see that he was trying to overtake his longer-legged brother and be the one to help Honey carry her bag.
Brian won. He took the bag and got a sweet smile as his reward as he and Honey started up the path together.
But Mart wasn’t left out. He promptly took his place on Honey’s other side, and Trixie giggled as she saw him take over the conversation.
“Hi, Honey! What’s the verdict?” Trixie couldn’t hold back the yell. She just had to know.
“Okay!” Honey called up to her. “Anything we want to do is all right with Dad!”
“Keen!” Trixie answered and closed the window. She watched through the pane a moment longer and saw that the rivalry for Honey’s attention had started again after her interruption. She wore a satisfied smile as she finished clearing the drawer and started downstairs to bring up her guest. “Something tells me we’ve got a couple of willing workers lined up for the carnival!”
A few minutes later she perched on the edge of the bed and watched Honey put her things away. “Thank goodness tomorrow’s Saturday! Let’s call a conference at the clubhouse in the morning after the boys have helped Regan with the horses. I can hardly wait to start on the carnival.”
“They may be too busy. Miss Trask says Tom has to drive Regan to the city very early, and that means the boys will have all the responsibility of the stable till they get back Sunday night,” Honey tried to explain.
Trixie frowned. “I thought Miss Trask never let Regan and the chauffeur have the same day off. She’s usually so fussy about wanting a man on the property, especially when your dad’s away. And Jim’s gone now, too.”
“It is sort of odd, isn’t it? But she said it was an emergen
cy of some kind.”
“Did she say what kind?” Trixie asked eagerly. “Personal, was all. I couldn’t get her to say any more. And when I mentioned it to Celia, she was awfully short with me, so I dropped it.” Celia was the upstairs maid and Tom’s new bride.
“There’s something strange going on,” Trixie confided, feeling a rush of curiosity coming back. She told Honey about hearing Regan’s parting words to her mother today. “He’s certainly worried about something. Tom’s probably mixed up in it, and that’s why Celia was upset.”
Honey nodded. “Maybe Regan’s planning to lend
them money to buy the trailer they’re living in.”
“Ugh! I wish they’d buy a house instead and let Di Lynch’s father take his old trailer back. Every time I think how close Mart and I came to being kidnapped in that trailer—br-rr-r!” Trixie shivered.
“I don’t blame you, but Tom and Celia love it,” Honey told her. “I’ve heard Tom say he’d buy it if he could ever raise five thousand dollars to do it. Maybe Regan knows where to get it for him.”
“Five thousand!Regan? Where would he get that much money? Your dad told mine that when Regan started to work for him a few years ago, he was just out of an orphanage. He couldn’t have saved that much.”
“I guess not, at that. I heard him tell Miss Trask once, a long time ago, that he had to send his sister money to help make ends meet.”
“Anyhow,” Trixie said with knitted brows, “it wasn’t lending money that Regan was so worried about. It was something that might turn out bad, and he didn’t want us kids to know about it.”
“Trixie!Honey!” Mrs. Beldens voice from the foot of the stairway sounded annoyed. “Dinner is ready and the table isn’t even set!”
“Be right down, Moms!” Trixie called out hastily, and, as they hurried downstairs, she assured Honey, We can talk about it later!”
Suspicious • 3
OUTSIDE, THE EARLY darkness had settled, but the kitchen of the small farmhouse was warm and cozy as Trixie and Honey came hurrying in from upstairs. Mrs. Belden was taking the roast out of the oven, with Brian’s help, and Mart was lounging idly at the end of the sink, watching.
“That’s it. You’ve got it now. Watch out you don’t let it slide off the platter.” Mart was superintending.
“It’s a poor job that can’t afford a boss,” Trixie confided to Honey loudly with a nod toward Mart.
Mart snickered. “Come on, small fry. Get moving. It’s all we men can do to keep from fainting from starvation. Where’s the silverware and stuff? Get crackin’, gals!”
Honey giggled and started to pick up the silverware to carry it into the dining room, but Trixie tossed her head defiantly. “If you’re so hungry, why don’t you lend Moms a hand, instead of posing around in your new sweater, unconscious?” She flounced into the dining room with the cups and saucers.
“Me do menial work?” Mart barked after her. “Seems to me you were the best table-setter at the ranch last Christmas,” Honey said mildly, flashing him a smile.
“Hey! So I was!” Mart stuck out his chest.
“Show Moms how good you were!” Brian laughed, and before Mart could back away, his big brother had deftly brought some hot plates from the warming oven and thrust them into Mart’s hands. “Here!” Mart did an impromptu juggling act trying to keep from dropping the stack of hot plates. “Ow! They’re hot!”
Mrs. Belden looked up from decorating the meat platter with tiny sprigs of parsley from her kitchen window garden. “Mart!” she called sternly. “Stop clowning, this minute, and take those plates into the dining room!”
But Mart was still shifting the plates from one hand to the other, trying to find a cool spot. Brian laughed, and Honey called anxiously, “Don’t drop them!”
Mart made a dash for the dining room but collided with Trixie and lost his grip on the plates.
Down they went with a crash.
Mart covered his eyes and turned his head so he wouldn’t see the wreckage. “Yipe! There goes my next month’s allowance!” he moaned.
Trixie’s snicker made him move his hands from his eyes and look around. Nobody seemed worried or shocked. In fact, there were grins on Trixie’s and Brian’s faces. He stole a quick look at the floor and grunted with surprise.
“Hey, none of them got busted!” he exclaimed.
“Of course not.” Trixie’s voice was pitying. “Those are Moms’s new plastic dishes. They don’t break.”
“Why didn’t somebody tell me that? Here I was getting a nervous breakdown—” Mart was aggrieved.
His mother interrupted. “You’ll get worse than that, young man, if you don’t pick up those plates, wash and dry them, and get them onto the table by the time Dad comes in and says—”
“When do we eat?” Peter Belden stuck his head in from the dining room.
The interruption was so well-timed that everyone but Mr. Belden himself broke out laughing—even Mart, who was hurriedly gathering up the plates.
“Did I say something funny?” Mr. Belden asked his wife, perplexed by the reaction.
“Not funny.” She laughed. “But you timed it just right. Were ready now, if Brian will carry in the roast. And no more jokes, Brian. Girls, you may bring in the salad and the vegetables.”
Bobby was already seated at the table, waiting more or less patiently. He had learned a long time ago to keep out of the kitchen when a meal was being prepared. It was no fun being stepped on or tripped over, and it always seemed to be his fault when it happened, or so Trixie claimed, in spite of his protests.
“I’m starved,” he told his parents plaintively. “I got a big empty place and it says ‘grr-r-r!’ at me.” He patted his fat little stomach soothingly.
“Just a couple of minutes more, lamb,” Moms told him. “And we have a big surprise for you. Just watch the door.”
Brian marched in and set down the meat platter with a flourish in front of his father.
“Ah!” Mr. Belden beamed down at the roast as he took up his great-grandfather’s horn-handled carving set and gave the knife a last whip across the sharpener. “That’s what I’d call a fine roast of beef!”
Bobby stared at the meat with a scowl. “If that’s the susprise, I like chicken better,” he said in an aggrieved voice. “That ol’ roast beef doesn’t have any drumsticks, ’n’ I love drumsticks.” He slid down in his chair till only his tip-tilted nose and the scowl showed above the rim of the table.
But a moment later he suddenly sat up straight, and his frown disappeared as he saw Honey coming in from the kitchen carrying a couple of salad dishes. “Hi, Honey!” he sang out joyfully. “I didn’ know you were here. You’re the susprise!” He looked to his mother eagerly. “C’n Honey sit by me, please?”
“If she wants to,” his mother agreed, smiling.
“I’d love it,” Honey assured him as she set down the two salad plates and started out for more.
Trixie was coming in with a steaming vegetable dish in each hand. “Ha! Don’t forget you’ll be stuck to cut up his meat!” she whispered as they dodged around each other without mishap.
“I don’t mind. It will be fun.” Honey smiled.
“Do it twice a day and three times Saturday and Sunday and you won’t think so!” Trixie whispered darkly. Taking care of Bobby was one of her biggest jobs, and she did a lot of grumbling about it, though she didn’t really mind it as much as she pretended.
She set down the vegetable dishes where Moms could serve from them and started back toward the kitchen.
“Trix!” Her father sounded vexed. “What do we eat our food from? The tablecloth? Where are the plates?”
“Coming right up, Dad!” Trixie hurried toward the kitchen door, but as the door swung open, Mart came through, carrying the plates.
They dodged in first one direction and then the other to avoid another collision. Then Mart, balancing the plates on one hand, firmly shoved her aside. “Step away, slave. We did that routine before. Do you
remember?”
Trixie made a face at him and hurried out as Mart set the plates down with a flourish in front of his father. “Here we are,” he announced, “washed and dried all spick-and-span!”
“About time!” Mr. Belden started serving the portions.
It was a lively meal, with a general discussion of the ice carnival plans.
“I wish you B.W.G.’s wouldn’t be so stubborn about not accepting financial help. I’m sure the bank would be glad to underwrite part of the expense, for the publicity,” Mr. Belden told them.
“Can’t, Dad. But they can buy a full-page ad in our souvenir program,” Mart said. “We’ll be glad to sell any size space desired.”
Trixie winked at Honey across the table. Mart was actually volunteering to do one of the hardest jobs connected with the carnival!
“Mart’s a wonderful salesman,” Trixie assured her father. “The advertising will pay all the expenses. It isn’t as if we were raising money for something. All we want is donations of books for the library at San Isidro, and people to have a good time watching our show and trying to win prizes.”
“And who donates the prizes?” Mrs. Belden asked. “Brian will take care of that. I’m sure he won’t have any trouble getting the merchants to donate. We’ll mention each one in the program.”
Brian looked at Mart and Mart looked at Brian.
“I just felt a trap snapping shut, didn’t you?” Brian asked his brother with a sly wink.
Mart nodded and pretended to look sad. “Were outmaneuvered, son.”
“I know what that word means.” Trixie grinned.
“You ought to,” Mart snapped back at her. “You probably invented it.
“Hey!” Mart interrupted the laughter that his remark had started. “Were due over at the stables. Regan wants to show us how to bandage Thunderer’s cut leg so we can change the dressing tomorrow and Sunday.”
Usually Jim did the doctoring with Regan, but he wouldn’t be back from the field trip until Sunday night.
Mention of Regan’s name was all Trixie needed to get her started puzzling over his visit that afternoon. She simply had to know what it was all about. Maybe Regan would drop some word about it to the boys.
The Black Jacket Mystery Page 2
