stifling a scream.
It was Jim.
"Say, what goes on?" he demanded in a loud whisper. "You're up to something, Trixie. I didn't fall for that nightmare yam of yours." He grabbed her arm. "What cooks?"
Trixie let out her pent-up breath. She felt like laughing and crying, but she didn't dare do either. She didn't dare make any noise at all. Miss Trask might wake up and hear them.
"I'll explain everything in the morning, Jim," she whispered. "Honest, I will."
"It had better be good," he hissed as he held the door open for her.
Trixie meekly climbed up the stairs ahead of him. They separated outside Honey's room, and Trixie crept silently into bed.
The next morning she dressed, while Honey was still sleeping, and hurried out of the house. She was starting down the path to the hollow when Jim hailed her from his bedroom window.
"Wait for me," he said, "and I'll help you feed the chickens. They may need fresh water."
In a few minutes he joined her, wearing swimming trunks. As they walked down the path together, Trixie told him how she and Honey had found the diamond in the old cottage and why she suspected one of the two new employees.
"You girls are the limit," he groaned. "You should have turned that diamond right over to Dad."
"I know," Trixie admitted. She scattered grain in front of the chicken coop. "The mash hoppers are almost empty, Jim. You fill them, please."
"I will," he said, "but don't try to change the subject. You're insane to suspect Dick, Trixie. I happen to know that the last man he worked for is a very good friend of Dad's. Dad showed me that letter of recommendation. And as for Nailor, he's not what you'd call a landscape gardener, but he has lived in Sleepyside all his life and has a very good reputation. He has clipped the hedges and tended the flowers for leading citizens for years."
But Trixie wasn't listening. She was staring, open-mouthed, at the back terrace of her house. Two tall, tanned boys were standing by the kitchen door.
"Brian," she yelled. "Mart! Jim, look. They're home from camp already."
Trixie's brothers jumped over the low stone wall of the terrace to meet her as she raced toward them. After she had hugged them both, she dragged them to the chicken coop, where Jim was waiting to be introduced. Brian shook hands with him and said, "Gee, it's great news that you live up in the Manor House. Trixie wrote us about you and Honey."
" 'Scribbled' is the word, Jim," Mart said with a grin. "It took us hours to decipher her message, but when we did, we decided we were missing too much fun at home. So, here we are."
"But your jobs," Trixie said. "I thought camp didn't close until tomorrow."
"It doesn't," Brian told her. "But the nursery group left yesterday afternoon. With the small fry gone, there wasn't anything for us to do but pack up the things they left behind." He sighed. "Our little charges were all about Bobby's age, so you can imagine the junk they collected."
"By the time we finished cleaning the cabins," Mart added, "we decided that we'd never be junior counselors again. Our boss took pity on us; and, since he had to drive through Sleepyside on his way home, he dropped us off here last night."
"Boy, am I ever glad to see you two," Jim said enthusiastically. "Maybe you can talk your wacky sister into turning the diamond she and Honey found over to the police."
"Wacky, yes," blond Mart jeered, "but the finder of diamonds, no. When her imagination gets going, a piece of coal becomes a priceless ruby overnight."
"Truer words were never spoken," Brian agreed. "When you've known Trixie as long as we have, Jim, you'll stop listening to her tall tales."
"I'm beginning to catch on," Jim said, grinning. "Last night she heard a mysterious prowler that nobody else heard, and she suspects our new chauffeur and gardener."
"A man or a mouse," Mart said, shaking his head, "it makes no diff to Trixie. They're all crooks if they so much as poke their noses out of their lairs after
It was Jim.
"Say, what goes on?" he demanded in a loud whisper. "You're up to something, Trixie. I didn't fall for that nightmare yam of yours." He grabbed her arm. "What cooks?"
Trixie let out her pent-up breath. She felt like laughing and crying, but she didn't dare do either. She didn't dare make any noise at all. Miss Trask might wake up and hear them.
"I'll explain everything in the morning, Jim," she whispered. "Honest, I will."
"It had better be good," he hissed as he held the door open for her.
Trixie meekly climbed up the stairs ahead of him. They separated outside Honey's room, and Trixie crept silently into bed.
The next morning she dressed, while Honey was still sleeping, and hurried out of the house. She was starting down the path to the hollow when Jim hailed her from his bedroom window.
"Wait for me," he said, "and I'll help you feed the chickens. They may need fresh water."
In a few minutes he joined her, wearing swimming trunks. As they walked down the path together, Trixie told him how she and Honey had found the diamond in the old cottage and why she suspected one of the two new employees.
"You girls are the limit," he groaned. "You should have turned that diamond right over to Dad."
"I know," Trixie admitted. She scattered grain in front of the chicken coop. "The mash hoppers are almost empty, Jim. You fill them, please."
"I will," he said, "but don't try to change the subject. You're insane to suspect Dick, Trixie. I happen to know that the last man he worked for is a very good friend of Dad's. Dad showed me that letter of recommendation. And as for Nailor, he's not what you'd call a landscape gardener, but he has lived in Sleepyside all his life and has a very good reputation. He has clipped the hedges and tended the flowers for leading citizens for years."
But Trixie wasn't listening. She was staring, open-mouthed, at the back terrace of her house. Two tall, tanned boys were standing by the kitchen door.
"Brian," she yelled. "Mart! Jim, look. They're home from camp already."
Trixie's brothers jumped over the low stone wall of the terrace to meet her as she raced toward them. After she had hugged them both, she dragged them to the chicken coop, where Jim was waiting to be introduced. Brian shook hands with him and said, "Gee, it's great news that you live up in the Manor House. Trixie wrote us about you and Honey."
" 'Scribbled' is the word, Jim," Mart said with a grin. "It took us hours to decipher her message, but when we did, we decided we were missing too much fun at home. So, here we are."
"But your jobs," Trixie said. "I thought camp didn't close until tomorrow."
"It doesn't," Brian told her. "But the nursery group left yesterday afternoon. With the small fry gone, there wasn't anything for us to do but pack up the things they left behind." He sighed. "Our little charges were all about Bobby's age, so you can imagine the junk they collected."
"By the time we finished cleaning the cabins," Mart added, "we decided that we'd never be junior counselors again. Our boss took pity on us; and, since he had to drive through Sleepyside on his way home, he dropped us off here last night."
"Boy, am I ever glad to see you two," Jim said enthusiastically. "Maybe you can talk your wacky sister into turning the diamond she and Honey found over to the police."
"Wacky, yes," blond Mart jeered, "but the finder of diamonds, no. When her imagination gets going, a piece of coal becomes a priceless ruby overnight."
"Truer words were never spoken," Brian agreed. "When you've known Trixie as long as we have, Jim, you'll stop listening to her tall tales."
"I'm beginning to catch on," Jim said, grinning. "Last night she heard a mysterious prowler that nobody else heard, and she suspects our new chauffeur and gardener."
"A man or a mouse," Mart said, shaking his head, "it makes no diff to Trixie. They're all crooks if they so much as poke their noses out of their lairs after
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