The Mystery Off Glen Road (5 page)

He raced off, and Mart said to Trixie, “Get dressed and meet us at the Manor House soon as you can. We’re invited to a breakfast of yesterday’s leftovers on the veranda.”

“Yummy-yum,” Trixie said hungrily. “But what about our chores? We can’t leave Moms—”

“There are no chores,” Mart interrupted. “The phone’s working now, and the electric company says the current will be turned on early this afternoon. Until that happens, Moms says there’s no sense in doing anything in the way of chores.”

“Thank goodness our mother is such a good sport,” said Trixie. “I couldn’t possibly dust without the vacuum because when the wind roared down the chimney it blew ashes all over the floors and furniture, an inch thick. And it’ll be much easier to wash all of the dishes at once when we have hot water again.”

Mart started for the door. “Moms is a good sport,” he said, “so I guess we can’t blame Brian for being one, too. It sort of runs in the family. Present company excluded, of course.” He chuckled and disappeared down the hall.

Trixie donned dungarees, a warm sweater, wool socks, and sneakers. She hurried downstairs and out to the back terrace where she found her parents and Bobby.

“No school today for me either,” Mr. Belden said cheerfully. “Even if the bank weren’t closed on account of the current failure, I couldn’t get into the village without wings. There are huge trees blocking every one of the roads.”

“But,” Mrs. Belden put in, “the repair crews have been working since midnight so everything will be back to normal soon. Run along, dear,” she added to Trixie, “and have fun. As soon as we have electricity we’re both going to have to work like beavers.”

Trixie gratefully scampered off up the path to the Manor House. The other Bob-Whites were on the veranda munching large turkey sandwiches. They all looked so dismal that Trixie couldn’t help greeting them with:

“Yesterday was a wedding; today there’s a wake.”

“If you’re referring to the wake of the storm,” Jim said sourly, “you’re right.” He moved closer to Honey to make room for Trixie on the glider. “Here I am, loaded with money, but I can’t get hold of a cent until Dad comes back from Florida.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jim,” Brian exploded, “don’t start all that again. Sure, we all know that you’re rich, but you inherited that money. Why do you keep on forgetting that the rule of our club is that we can’t use any money that one of us didn’t
earn?”

Jim grinned. “I’m not forgetting, Brian, old boy. But the money you want to donate, you earned for the purpose of buying a car.
Not
for the purpose of repairing one slightly wrecked clubhouse.”

“That’s right,” Honey said. “Brian’s just got to have that car. When Daddy realizes that it was our clubhouse that kept the blue spruce from being blown to the ground and uprooted, he’ll give us all the money we want for fixing it up. The clubhouse, I mean. Not the spruce.” She jumped up. “I’m going to borrow the money from Miss Trask right now and stop all this silly arguing.”

Gently Jim pulled her back down beside him. “You’ll do nothing of the kind, little stepsister,” he said.

“I’m not your stepsister!”

Trixie could tell that kindhearted Honey was very close to tears. Trixie herself felt like crying. They couldn’t accept the money which Brian had saved for his jalopy, and yet what else could they do?

“I’m your very own full-blooded adopted sister,” Honey was storming. As usual, when she was on the
verge of tears, she wasn’t making much sense. “What I mean is,” she told Jim, “when we formed our club we decided that we’d all be brothers and sisters. One big family was what we said, so—”

“Exactly,” Brian interrupted quietly. “So, Honey, my fifty bucks belongs to all of us. A jalopy wouldn’t do all of us any good because I’m the only one who has a junior driver’s license.” He started for the French doors to the study where the phone was. “I’m going to call up and order the wood and shingles we’ll need right now. A lot of homes were damaged by that storm. If we don’t get our little order in right away, it may be months before we get any supplies. What with snow and sleet—” He shrugged, went inside, and closed the doors behind him.

“Well, that’s that,” Mart said. “Mr. Lytell said he’d only hold the car until next Saturday. Even if all of us could get fabulously high-paying jobs for working after school between now and then, we couldn’t earn fifty smackers.”

“We could rob a bank,” Honey suggested tearfully. “In fact, I think I will. All by myself. I’ll use Bobby’s water pistol. It’s been done before, according to what I’ve read in the newspapers.”

“Oh, fine,” Jim said sarcastically. “Then we’ll have to raise bail in order to get you out of jail.”

“This is no time for rhymes,” Trixie interrupted. “I have a plan which makes sense.”

Mart covered his face with both hands. “Oh, no, Sis, not one of those. We’ll
all
end in jail.”

“That’s right,” Jim agreed. “Every time Trixie even thinks, we all get involved in a mystery—”

“Which,” Honey put in emphatically, “Trixie always seems to solve along with our problems.
I
think we ought to listen to her plan. Since you won’t let me borrow the money from Miss Trask or rob a bank—”

Brian came back then, and Trixie said quickly, “Borrowing from Miss Trask is what gave me the idea. Mr. Fleagle is quitting, isn’t he?”

“That’s right,” Jim said. “He left bag and baggage last evening during the lull in the storm.”

“Well,” Trixie continued, “what’s to prevent us from taking over his job? For a week, anyway, until Miss Trask and Regan can hire another gamekeeper.”

“Say, that is a thought,” Jim said. “All it would amount to would be patrolling the preserve before and after school and full time during the weekend.”

Honey nodded. “Fleagle got more than fifty dollars a week for doing not much more than that. But the trouble is, Jim, Miss Trask has already put ads in the help-wanted columns of all the papers. Some truly marvelous
gamekeeper may apply for the job tomorrow.”

“That’s right,” Jim agreed, “and furthermore, we can’t ask for a week’s pay in advance. Even if we should get the job, we’d have to prove first that we were worth fifty bucks a week.”

Brian, who had been looking very happy for a moment, slumped down on a hassock near the glider. “Right, Jim,” he said, “we can’t do anything about the clubhouse unless we use money we have earned. So let’s stop stewing about it.”

Then all of a sudden Trixie remembered something. She jumped up and ran indoors, beckoning for Honey to follow her. “I’ve got the answer to everything,” Trixie whispered as they hurried upstairs to Honey’s lovely room on the second floor.

When they were seated together on the window seat, with the door to the hall closed, Trixie said, “That diamond ring Jim gave to me! If I can just get that, it’ll solve all of our problems.”

Honey stared at Trixie, her hazel eyes wide with amazement. “Are you talking about the diamond ring Jim left behind when he ran away after the Miser’s Mansion burned?”

Trixie nodded. “Remember what he wrote in the note he left with it? He said I deserved it because I found it and because I saved all that money he found in the mattress from being burned.”

“I certainly do remember,” Honey cried excitedly. “And I see what you mean. You really
earned
that diamond ring. So if you wanted to sell it, you could use the money for fixing up the clubhouse.”

“That’s right,” Trixie said. “But I haven’t a prayer of getting permission from Dad to sell it. He put it in our safety deposit vault, you know, for fear I’d lose it.”

“Well, then,” Honey said discouragedly, “what good is it to us?”

“Plenty,” Trixie told her. “I’ve just got to get Dad to take it out of the bank for a while. Then I can give it to Mr. Lytell as security. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Honey replied. “What’s nosy old Mr. Lytell got to do with our wrecked clubhouse?”

“Oh, Honey,” Trixie cried impatiently. “Sometimes you jump around in your conversation so fast that nobody knows what you’re talking about. At other times, like now, you have a one-track mind. Can’t you see that I’m talking about Brian’s car?”

Honey shook with laughter. “Speaking of people who jump around in their conversation, Trixie Belden, you’re much worse than I am. But now I do understand. If you give Mr. Lytell your ring as security, he’ll hold the jalopy until we can earn enough money to pay Brian back the fifty dollars he loaned us. But how,” she finished, “how are you going to get your father to take the ring out of the bank?”

“That,” Trixie admitted, “I’ve got to figure out somehow.”

Honey stared vacantly around her dainty room. “If only,” she said reflectively, “everyone didn’t know how you hate jewelry and anything feminine. I mean, if you were like Di Lynch and me, your father wouldn’t die of surprise if you asked him if you could wear the ring for a few days. After all, it
is
yours, and almost any girl but
you
might want to wear it to a party or something.”

It was Trixie’s turn to shake with laughter. “You and Di,” she pointed out between chuckles, “
used
to be frail and feminine, but since you two joined the Bob-Whites, I notice you both prefer blue jeans to frilly dresses.” Then she sobered. “You’ve got something there, Honey Wheeler. My parents and Brian and Mart
would
die of amazement if I suddenly got a yen to wear joo-wells. The thing for me to do is
not
to do it too suddenly. See what I mean?”

Honey slid off the window seat and covered her face with her slim hands. “Oh, Trixie, you’re so funny. You’re forever telling me I don’t make sense when I talk, and you almost never make sense yourself.”

Trixie giggled. “I know. We’re both terrible, Honey, but I’d still rather be the way we are instead of like Mart who’s forever using such big words that nobody but a college professor could ever understand what he’s talking about. Mart,” she added thoughtfully, “is the one I’ve got to fool first. That’s not going to be easy. We’re practically twins, you know.”

Honey uncovered her face and tugged at her bangs, frowning. “That I
do
know. In fact, you
are
twins for one whole month of the year because your birthdays are exactly eleven months apart. But what that has to do with getting your ring out of the bank is beyond me.
Please, Trixie,” she begged, “try to make sense for a change.”

Trixie glared at her. “I
am
making sense. Mr. Lytell has promised Brian not to sell his jalopy to a dealer until next Saturday. Between now and then I’ve got to get the diamond ring so I can give it to him as security. The only way I can possibly convince Dad that I should have it is for me to go feminine all over the place. As you pointed out, I can’t do that suddenly, so between now and Friday, I’ve got to do it by degrees. Mart, to repeat myself, is going to be suspicious until the very end, so I’ve got to fool him first. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Honey said in an awed tone of voice. “It’s all as simple as international intrigue, and I don’t think for one minute that you’re going to fool anybody, let alone Mart.” She grabbed Trixie’s hand and dragged her over to the full-length mirror which formed the door to rows of shelves. “Just look at yourself, Trixie Belden. Did you ever see anyone who looked less frail and feminine than you?”

Trixie chortled. “I do look pretty horrible in this ragged sweater and patched jeans. And my hair should really be as long as yours and Di’s—down to my shoulders, I mean. But I can’t do anything about that. There just isn’t time.”

Honey elevated her eyebrows. “Oh, no? That seems to me to be the simplest problem of all. You can wear a wig. One with long black Lord Fauntleroy curls would be just the thing. Then nobody would recognize you so nobody in your family will die of horror when you suddenly appear in a formal evening gown with a long train.”

Trixie collapsed on the floor. “Let’s not overdo this, Honey,” she finally got out. “All I’m going to do is not wear ragged sweaters and patched blue jeans for a while. Instead of changing when I come home from school, I’ll hang around in my school clothes.”