The Marshland Mystery (17 page)

“Do you think we should tell her about the story in this morning’s
Sun
?” Trixie whispered hastily to Honey and Di.

“Oh, no! There’s no use upsetting her again,” Honey answered softly, and Di nodded her agreement.

When Miss Rachel came back, in triumph, with a newly filled cake plate, they talked about her herb collection and the recipe for the delicious mint tea.

“I’m very proud of my herb garden,” Miss Martin told them as she led the way outside to the neat little plot. “There’s my Oswego tea. Some call it bee balm. Our pioneer families used it for reducing fever. That’s wood sorrel over there. I transplanted it from the marsh. It’s very tasty in a salad when it’s young.” She told them the names of so many that they gave up trying to remember them, and they made her promise that she’d make a list of them soon so they could come out again to get it, along with some samples of herbs for the botany class.

“And please don’t forget the recipe for this tea,” Di reminded her.

“You shall have that now,” Miss Rachel promised and went to the small rosewood desk in the corner to get pencil and paper.

“Oh, what a lovely brass box!” Trixie exclaimed. She hadn’t noticed it on top of the desk before. It was about a foot wide and six inches deep, and it was deeply embossed on all sides with the writhing forms of dragons. On top, a large, ferocious-looking dragon, with five claws on each foot, was devouring a smaller one.

“My great-grandfather brought it from China on one of his voyages,” Miss Rachel told them, pleased, as she lifted the heavy box and handed it to Trixie to examine.

“Look at those green eyes!” Trixie said admiringly and touched the big dragon’s inlaid eyes. “He’s gorgeous.”

“He should be!” Miss Rachel laughed. “He’s an imperial dragon. Only imperial dragons have five claws.” The girls studied the battle admiringly. Trixie giggled. “Looks like old five-claw is winning.”

“Imperial dragons always won, or the imperial ruler would have cut off the artist’s head in those days,” Miss Rachel said with a little laugh. “It’s a very old box.”

“I like the green eyes.” Trixie rubbed her fingers over the stones that seemed to send out green rays in the sunlight. “I guess he’s the original green-eyed monster people keep talking about.”

“You should recognize him if he is!” Honey teased, with a meaningful look toward Gaye, who was quite absorbed in trying to finish the last of the cupcakes and keep Mr. Poo from getting more than she did.

Trixie wrinkled her nose at her friend and then put the box down reluctantly. “Good-bye, beautiful,” she told the dragon, with a final pat on his menacing brow. “You go ahead and enjoy your fun.”

“Goodness, it
is
time to leave!” Di agreed.

In a few minutes, they were on their way home in the car.

“She’s a darling,” Honey said, glancing back toward the cottage as they turned the bend in the road. “I wonder what Trent said about her family that was insulting.”

“Oh, probably that old silly about being in partnership with the pirate.” Trixie shrugged. “You remember—about the pirate gold being hidden in Martin’s Marsh.”

Gaye had been huddled, half-asleep, with Mr. Poo cuddled in her arms. She sat up suddenly, staring at Trixie. “Pirate gold? In the swamp?”

Trixie waved it aside and laughed. “There never was any there, of course. But a lot of people believed it.”

“Wasn’t any
ever
found there?” Gaye persisted.

“Of course not! People found snakes and quicksand and all sorts of accidents but never any sign of gold,” Honey assured her. “It’s a gruesome place. Br-r-r!”

“I wouldn’t be afraid to look,” Gaye said thoughtfully, stroking Mr. Poo’s head. “I’d take Mr. Poo along, and we’d have no trouble finding it, I’m sure.”

Tom Delanoy turned and grinned back at them. “Better not let your Aunt Della hear you, Miss Gaye. She might think you meant that.”

“I do!” Gaye said defiantly. “Mr. Poo would chew up the snakes, and I’d dig up the gold, and I’d give it to Aunt Della, and then I wouldn’t ever have to play my old violin again or go traveling all the time when I’m tired!” There was a break in her voice as she finished.

Honey and the shocked Di exchanged looks of dismay, but Trixie motioned them not to say anything. Gaye bent her head over and rested it on Mr. Poo’s soft coat. Trixie couldn’t see her face, but she felt quite sure that the little girl was in tears.

They were glad to be turning just then into the Wheeler driveway. Nobody knew what to say.

Miss Crandall was waiting for Gaye at the garage. She lost no time in ordering her up to the house, and when Gaye, sullen and silent, had reluctantly gone, with the small poodle cavorting after her, her aunt turned to the girls.

“We have decided that Gaye is quite recovered from her nervous attack, and she will be giving her recital a week from Saturday,” Miss Crandall said coldly. “So I must ask you to help avoid any more excitement for her. Please don’t think I am too severe, Honey. Your mother agrees with me; Gaye’s career is too important for her to take any chances with it.”

“It wasn’t exciting at the marsh, Miss Crandall,” Trixie said quickly. “Miss Martin was sweet about the dress. And she likes Gaye. We had a nice visit.”

“Nevertheless, she is not to go out there again for any reason,” Miss Crandall said with finality and went up to the house after Gaye.

Trixie made a small grimace after her and told Honey, “It looks as if you won’t have the little prodigy on your hands to entertain the rest of this week!”

“I’m almost sorry I won’t, now that we know her better,” Honey said sincerely. “Poor little thing!”

And both Trixie and Di agreed with her.

Mr. Belden came home a couple of hours later as Trixie was telling Mart and Brian about the visit to Miss Martin.

“…so Miss Rachel practically threw old Trent out for saying mean things about her ancestors. That’s why he was so catty in this morning’s
Sun
about her ‘seeing ghosts,’ ” she finished. “He’s disgusting!”

“I’m inclined to agree,” their father said, coming into the room with a grim look on his face.

“Oh,” Trixie said weakly. “I bet everybody at the bank was laughing at what he said about me, weren’t they?”

“Not at all,” her father assured her gravely. “Hardly anyone mentioned it. It’s Rachel Martin whom his story has hurt.”

“
Hurt
?” Trixie was amazed.

Her father nodded. “You see, that little hint of Trent’s that Miss Rachel thought Gaye was her sister’s ghost has convinced people that the last of the Martins has failed mentally because of her age and being allowed to live out there alone by the swamp for so long. There’s quite a lot of indignation that she’s been neglected all this time. The hint about her having her name used as publicity for Gaye has only made it worse.”

“But that’s just Trent’s mean story! Can’t we make the
Sun
tell what really happened?” Trixie begged.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit late to do anything,” her father said gently. “You see, dear, there seems to be something magical about printer’s ink. Once people read a story in a newspaper, most of them believe that story is true, even if it’s retracted.”

“Bud Brown, whose dad is on the city council, told me the council had a special session about it today and decided to take steps to protect Miss Rachel Martin,” Brian told them. “I hadn’t gotten around yet to telling you abut it, Trix, but I meant to.”

Trixie looked unhappy. “What do they mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” Brian admitted and looked inquiringly at his father. But Mr. Belden shook his head.

“It’s my fault,” Trixie said miserably. “I had to go out hunting for Gaye, and that’s what started all this.” A big tear started to roll down her cheek. Such weakness was so unusual for her that Mart scowled blackly and exclaimed, “Quit going crybaby on us, toots! I’m the one who made Trent sore, over at Wheelers’, so I’m as much to blame as you are. Now turn off the waterworks before I disown you!” He turned briskly to Brian. “Am I right?”

“Check!” Brian said, nodding. Trixie dashed away the single tear and smiled gratefully at them both.

“This may all blow over if you children are careful about what you say the next few days,” their father counseled soberly. “So let’s keep our fingers crossed and hope that there’ll be no more double-meaning stories in the
Sun. ”

“Yes, Dad,” Trixie said, very subdued and worried.

More Trouble ● 17

TRIXIE BOUNCED out of bed the moment she heard the delivery boy whistle at the gate. It was just getting light, and she had trouble locating one of her slippers, but within a few minutes, she was hurrying quietly downstairs and out the front door to get the paper.

She could hardly wait to get back to the house to look for a story under Paul Trent’s by-line, but she made herself wait and ran back inside before she opened the
Sun.

There was no story by him on the front page nor on any of the other pages. He was, she thought, with a load lifting off her heart, most happily absent. She was so relieved that she paid no attention to any other stories in the newspaper but folded it up neatly and left it at her father’s place at the maple dining table. Then she dashed upstairs to snatch a few minutes’ more sleep before it was time to wake Bobby and get him dressed.

She was in high spirits as they all gathered around the breakfast table a little later. In a few days, she hoped, if there were no more stories about Miss Rachel in the
Sun
, Sleepyside would forget about the whole thing, just as her father had said.

“There’s a council meeting scheduled for today,” her dad was saying as he skimmed the second page of the paper. “Special session, this says, to discuss draining Martin’s Marsh and starting to put that access road into work. I thought that had been postponed.”

“I suppose the thing about Miss Rachel and Gaye was what reminded them of it,” Mrs. Belden sighed.

“I’m afraid there’s no question about that,” her husband agreed with a frown.

“Will Miss Rachel have to sell her cottage and move away? Can the city make her?” Trixie was shocked.

“Actually, Miss Martin doesn’t own any of that property any longer. The bank does.”

“But how can that be? It’s always belonged to her family!” Trixie argued indignantly.

“Unfortunately, Miss Rachel had to sign over all her rights to the property several years ago, after the changes in the road had put an end to her rug and quilt business. For a while, she borrowed from the bank, but she found that she had no way to pay back her loan, so she insisted on signing over everything to the bank. The board planned to let her stay there as long as she lived, but now—” He shook his head gravely. “I only hope that this is just a flurry of talk in the council.”

“But where will she move to if the council
does
start building that road?” Trixie asked unhappily. She still couldn’t help feeling that she would be to blame if that happened. “They know she has no money to buy another place—probably not even enough to rent one.”

“There are places where she can go if she wishes to,” her father said, and he busied himself with breakfast.

Trixie turned to her mother for help. Mrs. Belden looked uneasy and rose hastily to go and putter with something on the stove. “But where?” Trixie asked.

“I guess Dad means the Home,” Brian said quietly.

“It’s really quite a comfortable place,” Mr. Belden said hastily, “and she would find people near her own age to keep her company. Excellent doctors, too, if she needed them.”

Mrs. Belden came back to the table, wearing the same stricken look that Trixie had. “But, Peter! A
Martin
in the Home!” she protested.

Mr. Belden looked uncomfortable. “Oh, Helen!” he said with gentle reproof. “It isn’t like going to jail, dear. And you must realize how much better off Miss Rachel would be. At her age, out there far away from everyone as she is, almost anything could happen to her. A fall or a stroke! She could be sick for days before anyone found out about it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mrs. Belden sighed.

“Well, she looks good and healthy to me.” Trixie frowned rebelliously. “And I hope the council decides to forget all about that icky old access road for a long time!”

“To be truthful, so do I,” her father admitted.

The Bob-Whites discussed it every time they had a chance to get together during the day, but none of them could think of any way to help Miss Rachel if the council decided to get started with the road;

It was Brian who heard the news first, from the councilman’s son. The city council had voted unanimously to begin work on the access road not later than early fall. Jim and Brian told the girls and Mart the news as they hurried for the bus after school.

Trixie brightened, and her voice was almost a squeak as she asked, “Early fall? Oh, that’ll give us all summer to find a way to help Miss Rachel so she won’t have to go to the Home to live!”