The Marshland Mystery (14 page)

But there was no more music from the direction of the big Wheeler mansion, and in a very few minutes, Trixie and the boys heard the Belden station wagon being driven into the barn-garage.

“Whatever happened up there, it seems to have broken up the party early,” Brian said as he hurried out to greet their parents.

Both of the elder Beldens looked serious as they came in a few seconds later.

“The poor little thing should never have been asked to play tonight, after all she went through today,” Mrs. Belden was saying as she slipped off her coat.

“Moms! What happened?” Trixie couldn’t wait.

“Gaye fainted, poor lamb. She fainted right in the middle of a piece—one of those complicated ones. One minute she was playing away, and the next she just crumpled up and fell in a heap on the floor. It was terribly sad. And that Miss Crandall—” She paused and made an angry gesture.

“Well....” Mr. Belden’s voice sounded gently but unmistakably reproachful.

“I don’t care for the woman!” Mrs. Belden was defiant. “She accused that tiny little girl of just pretending and tried to drag her to her feet. She actually shook her! But the child just went limp and had to be carried to bed. The doctor said it’s a plain, simple case of complete exhaustion, and he’s forbidden Gaye to even touch her violin for a week!”

“What’s going to be done about next Saturday night’s recital?” Mart asked curiously.

“Why, the doctor thinks that if she rests and leads a quiet life, like a normal little girl, for the next week or ten days, she should be able to appear the Saturday after that.” Mr. Belden shook his head. “Miss Crandall isn’t very happy about postponing it. It upsets their schedule for the rest of the tour. But there’s nothing she can do about it as long as Gaye isn’t feeling strong enough to appear.”

“The poor little thing is just skin and bones,” Mrs. Belden said. “It seemed to me yesterday that Miss Crandall wasn’t a bit sympathetic with her.”

Trixie had her own idea about who deserved the sympathy, but she swallowed hard and held it back. She knew her mother wouldn’t like her to feel that way, after promising to do her best to like Gaye.

A few minutes later, she slipped away to the study to phone Honey.

“Do you think she really fainted?” Trixie asked skeptically. “Maybe she was just being temperamental.”

“Oh, no!” Honey sounded very sure. “The poor little thing really collapsed. Her face was as white as chalk.”

“Dad says she’ll be staying on at your house another week, at least,” Trixie said. “I suppose she’ll be in bed most of the time, and you won’t have to entertain her.”

“I hope so!” Honey said hastily and then amended it just as quickly. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t really mean it. I was just being selfish.”

“But she
will
be a little pest, I bet,” Trixie insisted sulkily. “She’ll have to go wherever you go, and it’s going to be awfully boring for you.”

“I know,” Honey admitted. “Only it won’t last very long. Miss Crandall says Gaye simply can’t ‘lay off,’ as they call it in their business, because she’s booked solid across the country until July.”

“That’s a funny expression—‘booked solid.’ What does it mean?” Trixie asked, puzzled. She never minded letting Honey know when she didn’t recognize a word or an expression. Honey never teased her about being ignorant the way Mart usually did.

“It means she’ll appear somewhere for a concert on one night and then have to travel to another city the next day to do the whole thing over again.”

Trixie said a small “Oh” and thought it over for a second. Then she said impulsively, “I’m glad I’m just plain me and not a famous somebody-or-other! Imagine all that traveling around! And being bullied by Miss Crandall! But I suppose Gaye gets a nice long vacation after the end of the tour.”

“Oh, no,” Honey said quickly. “Miss Trask says Gaye has to keep learning new concertos and stuff all the time, for the next season.”

“I feel kind of sorry for her,” Trixie admitted, “even though I know she’s a little monster.”

“I do, too, really,” Honey agreed. “I’ve decided that I’ll try to be extra nice to her while she’s here.”

Trixie sighed. “I suppose we all should. Moms says so, anyhow, and she’s usually right.”

So they agreed most solemnly to overlook any small impudence on Gaye’s part and try to make her stay at Sleepyside a happy one.

Trixie was just saying good-bye, when she heard a small sound at the doorway. She was so sure it was Mart that she said, without turning around, “I fooled you, Smarty Marty. I’m all through talking, so there’s no use in your sneaking around listening!” She hung up the receiver and whirled to face the door, a saucy grin on her face.

But it wasn’t her almost-twin who was standing there.

It was a small figure in pajamas. “I waited an’ waited,” it reproached her accusingly, “but you didn’t come. What did Gaye say? Can she go with us?”

“I wasn’t talking to Gaye, Bobby. That was Honey. Gaye’s sort of sick, and I don’t think she’ll feel very much like going out picking flowers tomorrow. We'll have to put it off till some other day.”

“But I don’t want to! You said we’d go tomorrow and take Gaye! You’re mean!” Bobby burst into sobs. “You don’t like Gaye!”

Trixie hurried to him and put her arms around him. “Now, Bobby,” she said gently, “you mustn’t say that. Gaye
is
sick, or I wouldn’t tell you so. I wouldn’t tell you a lie. And tomorrow I’ll put on my blue jeans and a sweater and you can put on your playclothes. Then we’ll take Gaye some of those pretty flowers that Honey and I picked yesterday. You can give them to her all by your own little self—if Miss Crandall will let you see her.” Bobby’s tears disappeared in a flash, and he gave Trixie a big hug. “I love you lots,” he confided.

And a few minutes later, after he had meekly allowed her to lead him upstairs and tumble him back into bed, he told her sleepily, “I’m gonna tell Gaye ’bout my new chickies. Do you think she’d like a yellow one?”

“You can ask her tomorrow, lambkin,” Trixie told him cheerfully, but to herself she added silently,
if she bothers to see you.

Honey was saddling Strawberry inside the Wheeler stable as Trixie and Bobby came trudging up the long driveway the next morning.

Their shadows stretched out across the stable floor as they stood in the doorway, and Honey turned quickly.

The first thing that Trixie noticed was that Honey’s pretty face was unusually sober.

“Hey, where are the boys and Regan? And didn’t Mart come over to ride Strawberry? What’s going on?” Trixie asked it all in one breath.

“Oh, hi!” Honey answered, summoning up a smile, but with a warning nod in Bobby’s direction as he stood in the square of sunlight in the doorway, clutching the wild flowers by their tissue-wrapped stems. “Hi, Bobby! Did you bring me the pretty flowers?”

Bobby shook his head. “No!” He put the flowers hastily behind him. “Flowers for Gaye! Where’s Gaye?”

“Gulp!” Honey’s eyes twinkled. “I guess that puts me very nicely in my place.” The twinkle faded quickly.

“Anything wrong?” Trixie asked under her breath as she took a couple of quick steps toward Honey.

“Tell you in a minute,” Honey said in a whisper. “Bobby!” She raised her voice as Bobby came in farther, looking around. “Gaye’s up at the house. She’s probably having breakfast right now, and I think if you asked Miss Crandall very nicely, she’d let you take the flowers in to Gaye. Do you want to?”

“Oh, yes!” Bobby, with a beaming smile, was out and away like a flash.

“Such devotion!” Honey laughed. Then she nodded toward Susie’s stall, where the black mare was moving restlessly. “None of them has had a workout this morning. Why don’t you saddle up Susie? Let’s take her and Strawberry for a good run.”

“Swell! Do you think it’s all right to leave Bobby? I didn’t figure on riding this morning.”

“He’ll be all right. When your mother phoned Miss Trask a few minutes ago to say you were both on your way over, I asked Miss Trask to watch out for him while you and I gave the horses a run.”

“Oh, grand! Honey, you’re positively a brain. You always think of everything!” Trixie dashed over to the tack room and brought out a saddle and the rest of her riding gear. Then she backed Susie out of her stall and brought her over close to Strawberry. She started to saddle the mare. “Okay. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, in the first place, there’s nothing exciting to tell about Regan or the boys. They’re all over at Mr. Maypenny’s. His ground dried out faster than he expected, so he decided he’d better plant his corn today instead of tomorrow. They’re all lending a hand. So you and I are stuck with exercising these two beasts.”

“That’s not hard to take,” Trixie chuckled. “But why did you want Bobby to go away while you told me? He wouldn’t have wanted to go along with us—not while little Miss Gaye is here!”

“It’s Paul Trent. He came over to see Miss Crandall a while ago and
^-
told her that he still thought
somebody
had put Gaye up to hiding and pretending she had been kidnapped.”

“How silly can he get?” Trixie said scornfully. “I hope that she showed him the door!”

“Not right away. She believed him at first and called Dad in to listen. Dad really told Mr. Trent what he thought of him! The big troublemaker ducked out with his tail between his legs, as Mart would say!”

“I should think he’d be ashamed of himself, trying to start trouble that way. I hope he’s cured now.” Trixie had her doubts, but she didn’t want to say so to Honey.

“I’m sure he is!” Honey said confidently. Then she glanced at her wristwatch and looked startled. “Goodness! We’d better get started. Which way should we ride today?”

Trixie thought hard for a moment. Then she grinned. “Why don’t we ride out to Miss Rachel’s and let her offer us that hot mint tea she mentioned yesterday? If we like it, we can get the recipe for Miss Bennett. It would be nice if we could add that recipe to our bunches of swamp plants.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Honey agreed as she swung into Strawberry’s saddle. “And away we go!”

They rode along Glen Road at a trot and were soon at the turnoff that led to Martin’s Marsh.

“Things look a lot different when the sun is shining, don’t they?” Trixie called to Honey as they turned in and started up the narrow road. “But it’s still awfully squishy. I’m getting muddy.”

“Me, too.” Honey brushed a spot of mud off her saddle. “We’ll have some cleaning up to do to pass Regan’s inspection when we get home!”

They were passing the burnt-out mansion when Trixie slowed down. “Golly, Honey! It looks gloomy and mysterious even in the sunshine. Sad, too, now that we know about poor little Emily and Miss Rachel.”

“It must have been the biggest house in the valley,” Honey said, shaking her head. “They must have been awfully rich to be able to keep up a place like that. Goodness knows, ours is only half that size, and Dad says it’s a white elephant.” She giggled. “That was probably a whole herd of white elephants.”

They rode on and soon came in sight of the small white cottage. But they reined in as they stared at the car parked in front of the gate. Someone was calling on Miss Rachel Martin.

“Well, I guess we might as well turn around and go home. It’s probably somebody who’ll stay all afternoon drinking
our
mint tea,” Trixie moaned. “And I was hoping I could dazzle Miss Bennett with the recipe tomorrow morning! She’s collecting all sorts of herb recipes for her book.”

“Book?” Honey queried as they turned back toward the main road. “Is that why she’s so keen on herbs and swamp plants?”

“Oh, yes. Miss Bennett says that when the pioneers were living in deep forests miles and miles from any doctors, they had to make up remedies for practically everything. I suppose they had to experiment a lot before they found the right ones. Of course, they learned a lot from the Indians.”

Honey looked impressed. “I never thought of the Indians as people who needed medicine. The pictures always show them marvelously healthy, even if they must have nearly frozen lots of times, not wearing much clothing!”

“Oh, Miss Bennett says they had remedies for all sorts of illnesses and accidents. You’d never believe some of the things they used ordinary little weeds for. Like the one they called boneset. The Indians believed it would make broken bones heal fast, and when the white men tried it, it worked just fine.”

“How did they use it?” Honey’s eyes opened wide. “They made a poultice of the dried leaves and tied it on the arm or leg or whatever bone was broken, and the bone knit fast. Miss Bennett says part of the treatment was that the broken bone had to be kept perfectly still for a certain length of time, and perhaps
that
was why it healed so quickly, and not the boneset poultice. But she says the plant does have a lot of calcium in it, so maybe it did help.”

“Anyhow, they thought it did. That’s what counts.”

“I was hoping we could talk to Miss Rachel about boneset and some of the other things we gathered in the swamp.” Trixie frowned.