The Black Jacket Mystery

the injured foreleg.
    “Guilty conscience. His, I mean,” Trixie whispered back. “Tell you later.”
    And, as they prepared for bed a half hour later, after the chilly walk from the stables, Trixie tried to explain.
    “It isn’t at all like Regan,” Honey admitted, wrinkling her smooth forehead in perplexity. “Are you sure it wasn’t the radio, Trixie? You know how you are... you could be wrong.”
    Trixie glared at her friend. “There you go! I told you I heard Regan. I’m certain of it. And the way he acted just now was proof of it. Every time he looked at me he sort of froze up. He thinks I’ve been spying on him.”
    “Well—” Honey looked uncomfortable.
    Trixie’s glare faded. A grin replaced it. “I guess I can’t blame him. I did listen, but I didn’t intend to.”
    Honey nodded. “Maybe he’s just protecting a friend—the other man you heard. Maybe he’s doing something kind for him. Anyhow, it must be all right, or your mother wouldn’t have tried to help Regan, would she?”
    Trixie sighed. “Of course not! Honey, I’m going to apologize to Regan for being so nosy, and I’m going to forget all about it, no matter what he’s up to.”
    But Honey knew better. Trixie could no more give up trying to solve a mystery—any mystery— than a bulldog could be pried off a bone once he had hold of it!
     

The Missing Skate • 4
     
    T.G.I.S.!”TRIXIE SAT down sleepily at the table and rubbed her eyes.
    “M.T.!” Honey agreed, stifling a yawn.
    Mr. Belden, who had been up since six doing his weekly home chores, stared at them over the top of his paper. “Translated into English, that means?”
    “Thank Goodness It's Saturday!” The two girls laughed, and Honey added, “And I said, ‘Me, Too!’ ” Mr. Belden went back to his paper, shaking his head. But a minute later he put it down quickly as a wail of grief came from the kitchen. “What’s the matter with that child? He’s done nothing but yell all morning!”
    Trixie looked worried. She had overslept again, because she and Honey had talked and giggled half the night. Moms had gotten Bobby up and dressed and down to breakfast without disturbing her and Honey.
    “I’ll see what I can do,” Trixie said hastily.
    Her mother and Bobby were looking through the back porch closet for something among the boots and snowshoes and a stray baseball bat.
    “Can I help, Moms?” Trixie asked.
    “I can’t seem to find Bobby’s other ice skate. The boys have promised to take him to the lake for another skating lesson this morning as soon as they get back from working out the horses.”
    “Trixie tooked it! I know she did!” Bobby burst out crying again.
    “Look, half-pint!” Trixie held the remaining skate against her shoe. “What good would your skate do me? It’s inches too small!”
    Bobby looked critically at it and then nodded, dashing away the tears. But they started again at once. “Wah! I’ll never find my skate! It’s losted!” Honey came in quickly. “Skate? I think I know where it might be. Last week at the lake, Bobby banged one of his blades against a rock, and Regan took it to the toolhouse to file the nick out of the blade. I imagine the skate is still there or in the tack room.”
    “Well, that’s a relief!” Mrs. Belden got to her feet. “I imagine Regan s forgotten it, poor fellow.”
    Trixie felt a tingle along her spine. She had bumped into the mystery again. “Why is he a ‘poor fellow,’ Moms?” she asked, much too carelessly.
    Mrs. Belden looked startled and bit her lip. Then she gave a little laugh. “I mean he’s probably been much too busy taking care of that horse that was cut the other day. He does work hard.”
    Trixie and Honey looked at each other. Moms wasn’t very good at covering up.
    She hurried on. “Do you think you could find Bobby’s skate at your place, Honey? The boys are still there working with the horses, and they can help.”
    “Of course we’ll find it. Come on, Trix and Bobby. And if the skate’s all fixed, you and I’ll go skating, Bobby, and I’ll show you some slick tricks to surprise the boys!”
    Bobby was halfway to the door with his lone skate, but Trixie lagged behind.
    “Well, come on!” Honey shouted to Trixie from the doorway.
    Trixie hesitated. “I’ve got a lot to do—” she said, looking almost as pathetic as Bobby had.
    Mrs. Belden laughed. “Scoot along. And take your skates. A little bird told me you’re going to have to practice