The Mystery on Cobbett's Island (18 page)

Jim came back with the letter and handed it to Trixie. They all watched her while she read it through once again. Then, speaking very slowly, she said, “Okay, here's my theory. See what you think of it. Remember what El said about Mr. C working out a kind of game with Ed? Well, since they couldn't go out in
Sapphire
any more, maybe the game was a sailing game, like Brian mentioned, laid around the neighborhood where they took their walks. Does that make any sense?”

“I don't quite see it,” said Jim, scratching his head. “Why put the buoy mark on the chart if it's a land course? Wouldn't it be simpler just to put down a tree or a rock or whatever?”

“Sure it would be simpler, but it wouldn't be half as much fun or take half as many brains to figure out that kind of map,” Mart answered loftily.

“Well, it's a possibility,” Honey answered, a little skeptically. “It won't do any harm to explore it. Everything else has led to a dead end, but why were you so interested in the letter?”

“Look here a minute,” said Trixie seriously, beckoning Honey to the table. “Notice how Ed has set off the words ‘start sailing' in quotation marks? Why would he do that if he really meant sailing? I think it's a cue to follow the course on land instead of on sea.”

“By Jove, I think you've got something there!” Peter exclaimed. “Let's have a look at the chart. Now let's assume they started out from the same place on the porch that we did when we plotted the course to the gazebo.”

Everyone raced around to the other side of the porch led by Trixie, carrying the chart and the letter. She jumped up on the railing and looking toward Peter's house, let out a delighted scream, “There it is! The spire! It's the one on the gazebo!”

Jim caught her as she jumped down and spun her around and around, as the others joined in what looked like an impromptu war dance.

Just as they were about to head for the gazebo, Celia came out to announce lunch. “Oh, jeepers, do we have to eat?” cried Trixie.

“No, but if you don't you'll miss your favorite dish, macaroni and cheese,” Celia answered.

“Mac-a-chee!” yelled Mart. “Not on your life we don't miss lunch.”

“Our compliments to the chef, and we'll be in in a minute,” Honey said. She invited Peter to stay, but he explained that he had to go off the island that afternoon to get some plants which his mother had ordered from a nursery in Amagansett.

“Gosh, I'd much rather stay here,” he said dismally. “Now I'll miss all the fun of testing Trixie's theory.”

“You won't miss a thing,” Trixie quickly reassured him. “We wouldn't think of going on without you. We'll wait until tomorrow morning so we'll have a whole free day.”

Peter started to protest, but all the other Bob-Whites agreed with Trixie that the project should be postponed.

“Say, why don't you come along with me, then?” Peter suggested. “I have to go right through Easthampton, and we can stop at Ethel's Bakery.”

“Wonderful!” Trixie agreed enthusiastically. “Maybe we'll get some leads if we go in to buy something and get chatty with whoever waits on us.”

“I'm a great customer in a bakery,” Mart remarked. “I can taste those ephemeral doughnuts now.”

“Ephemeral?” Jim repeated quizzically.

“Yes, it means anything that's short-lived or lasts only a day, and when I'm around, jelly doughnuts are sure ephemeral,” Mart chuckled.

Everyone groaned loudly at Mart's attempted wit.

“You go ahead and have lunch, and I'll go home and grab a sandwich while I go over the list of stuff I'm supposed to get with Mother,” Peter said. “She's going to let me take the station wagon, so there'll be plenty of room for us and the plants, too. See you pronto!” He hurdled over the porch railing and dashed home as the Bob-Whites went in to lunch.

This time, instead of taking the Greenpoint ferry, they drove to the south side of the island and boarded a smaller ferry which carried them over the narrow sound to the mainland. The trip took only a few minutes, and then they were on their way to Easthampton.

“Maybe we'd better go right on to the nursery and pick up the plants, then we won't have to worry about time,” suggested Peter in his usual well-organized way.
“There might even be time to visit the Whaling Museum in Sag Harbor on the way home.”

“Oh, I hope there'll be time,” Trixie said. “You know, we usually have to write something interesting about our vacations for English class, and that would make a wonderful theme.”

“If any of us wrote about our search for the missing money, no one would believe us,” Mart said. “They'd think we dreamt the whole thing.”

As they drove slowly through the beautiful main street of Easthampton with its canopy of ancient elm trees, they were all on the lookout for Locust Lane. “There it is, off to the left,” cried Trixie, pointing to a narrow, winding street. “Step on it, Pete. I'm dying to get back and see if that's the right place.”

“Patience, Trix, old girl. I'm going as fast as the city fathers will allow,” Peter replied cheerfully. “You don't want me to get a ticket, do you?”

When they arrived at the nursery and Peter was conferring about his mother's order, Trixie and the others wandered around outside the main building where the owner had laid out a typical Japanese garden. They noticed charming little odd-shaped pools edged with unusual plants and crossed by miniature arched bridges, or by a series of artistically shaped stepping
stones. Water flowed from pool to pool over half-concealed waterfalls. As they followed the winding paths, they came upon stone ornaments, some in the shape of birds or animals. Lanterns and benches along the way seemed to invite them to stop and rest. A weeping flowering crab tree was in full bloom, its graceful boughs dipping into the water.

“Oh, I feel as though I were really in Japan!” Honey exclaimed as she stopped in front of one of the statues. “Wouldn't it be fun to have a garden like this at home? Down near the weeping willow by the lake would be a perfect place for one. I think I'll read up on Japanese gardens and ask Mother to let me plan one.”

Peter came out with the proprietor just in time to hear Honey's enthusiastic proposal.

“I agree they
are
fascinating, but let me warn you, don't choose it as a do-it-yourself project unless you have endless patience,” the man said. “Many of these little trees and plants are very old. They have been pruned and shaped for years to give just the effect the gardener wants.”

“That wouldn't be a hobby for me, then,” Trixie broke in. “Patience isn't my strongest virtue.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Jim remarked. “You sure have stick-to-itiveness and that's just patience plus positive action, isn't it?”

“That sure sounds impressive, Jim, but I'm afraid it's just stubborn old bullheadedness,” Trixie replied. “Once I get on the trail of something mysterious, I just can't bear to give up.”

When the plants had been loaded in the station wagon, Honey told the nursery owner how much they had enjoyed the few minutes spent in his beautiful garden.

“If you have a moment before you go, let me point out something you may have missed,” he said, leading them to a spot nearby. “The tendency seems to be for visitors in a Japanese garden to look down instead of up, but just glance into the top of that big maple tree at the edge of the garden. Do you see anything special?”

“Why, yes,” Trixie cried. “I see the outline of a woman, a little Japanese woman in a kimono right where that big branch comes out of the main trunk.”

“I see it, too,” Honey exclaimed, “and it looks as though her hands were folded into the sleeves of her dress!”

“And her head is bowed as though she were thinking,” added Diana.

“That's right,” the nurseryman answered, pleased at their perceptiveness. “Do you boys see the little goddess?” he asked, turning to them.

After they, too, had identified the lifelike branch, he told them that in Japan, people love to discover in trees or rocks, forms that resemble people, animals, or birds. “I was lucky enough to spot that little lady. Her silhouette shows up only from this particular vantage point. So, as my Japanese friends would do, I set up this little shrine in her honor. We call her the Lady of the Treetops.”

“She's charming, and so is her shrine,” Honey said as they admired the delicate miniature pagoda. “Thanks so much for letting us see her.”

“And hereafter we'll remember to look up as well as down when we visit a Japanese garden,” Trixie added.

“Well, it's something for you young people to think about,” the nurseryman said as they walked back to the car. “No matter where you are, don't forget to look up.”

It didn't take long to get back to Easthampton and Locust Lane. As Peter drove around the first turn in the road, Trixie caught sight of a sign near the curb, painted to look like a large birthday cake, with
ETHEL'S BAKERY
lettered on the side. They parked in front of the small two-storied building which was set a little back from the street. On the ground floor a large bay window with crisp white curtains was filled with an assortment of cookies, buns, cakes, and pies.

“I'll bet Ethel lives upstairs,” said Trixie as they walked up the gravel path to the shop. “Doesn't it look as though there were an apartment up there?” she asked as she glanced up to the second floor.

“I'm sure she does,” said Mart, tearing himself away from the tempting display in the window long enough to read the nameplate on the door to the upper floor. “It says ‘Mrs. Edward Hall.' ”

“My legs are shaking like a leaf,” Trixie confessed.

As she opened the door, a little brass bell tinkled overhead and an aroma of “sugar and spice and
everything nice” made their mouths water. Two customers were ahead of them and, with only one person behind the counter, there was time to look around the little shop. Its spotless white walls were decorated simply with a few beautiful old blue and white plates. A bouquet of mixed flowers stood on a table opposite the bay window, and glass-fronted cabinets filled with baked goods were on the other two sides. Behind the counter was a cheery-looking woman in a blue and white striped dress, her graying hair braided in a coronet around her head. Trixie noticed that she was full of chit-chat, exchanging bits of local gossip, and inquiring about this one and that one as she filled the orders.

“Now what can I do for you young folks?” she asked pleasantly when the other customers had finally left.

“We really don't know
what
we want, everything looks so good, although my brother did mention jelly doughnuts.” Trixie giggled.

“What boy doesn't like jelly doughnuts?” The woman laughed. “Why, my son would eat them practically by the dozen. If I hadn't put my foot down, he would have eaten up all my profits!”

“And look at those adorable gingerbread men!” cried Diana. “Why don't we take some home to Bobby
and the twins?” she asked, turning to Trixie.

“Gleeps! I remember now I promised Bobby I'd bring him a present, and I probably won't have a chance to get a game or anything for him before we go home, so these will be perfect. I'll take two of them, please, Mrs.—?” Trixie paused expectantly.

“Hall, my dear, but most folks just call me Ethel. I said to myself when you came in that you weren't from around here,” she chattered on. “Being in the shop as long as I have, I know just about everyone in town and most of the summer people, too.”

“Actually, all of us except Peter here are from Sleepyside, up in Westchester,” Brian said. “We've been over on Cobbett's Island for a week or so, but we wanted to see Easthampton and Sag Harbor before we go home.”

Trixie, who was watching Mrs. Hall intently, noticed an expression of sadness cross her face as she lowered her head.

“I used to know Cobbett's Island real well,” she said. “As a matter of fact I was born and raised there.” She hesitated. “Yes, and married there, too.”

“We love the island,” Honey exclaimed. “I can't imagine why anyone would ever want to leave it. It's so beautiful!”

“Yes, I loved it, too, and it holds wonderful memories for me, but memories can be painful, you know. Oh, what am I saying? You're all too young to have anything but bright memories.” She was smiling again.

“I think I know what you mean,” Jim said. “I lost both my parents when I was just a little kid, so my childhood was pretty grim, but I try not to think about it any more than I can help.”

“That's right, young man; no use dwelling on the past, I always say. That's why I came over here after I lost my husband, to make a new life for myself and my boy.”

“Well, from the looks of this lovely little shop, I'd say you had succeeded,” Trixie said, looking around admiringly. “Do you do all the baking yourself?”