The Black Jacket Mystery

hard if you plan to do any fancy stuff at the carnival.”
    “You can say that again, Moms!” Trixie sighed. “That bird said a beakful, even if he has a blond crew cut and thinks he knows all the answers!”
    “He does,” Honey said, laughing, “when it comes to skating, speed skating particularly. Mart’s about the nearest to a professional I’ve ever seen, and Dad’s taken me to watch a lot of them.”
    “Is he that good?” Trixie was really surprised. “Hey, he’ll be able to win a prize for the B.W.G.’s. Gleeps, I hope it’s something the club can use!”
    “Your father thinks his friend Mr. Burnside of the lumber company will donate some flooring from that old saltbox house they’re wrecking. It seems to me it would be just right for your clubhouse,” Moms said.
    “That’s it! We’ll ask Mr. Maypenny how to lay it. And we won’t have everything getting dusty the way it does now.” Trixie was planning. “You know, that saltbox house was famous. Maybe we could charge admission to show the floor...
    “Dad hasn’t even spoken to Mr. Burnside yet,” her mother reminded her. “Remember that old saying about not counting your chickens before they’re hatched!”
    “My skate!” Bobby interrupted, tugging at Honey’s hand. “Bundle me up an’ let’s go.”
    “A good idea. Scoot, all of you!” Mrs. Belden shook her apron at them, smiling. And they scooted to dress in their heavy sweaters and scarves.
    “You’re spoiling those youngsters.” Mr. Belden was in the doorway, newspaper in hand. “They should do their chores first. They’re old enough to feel responsible for their duties.”
    “I know.” Mrs. Belden smiled saucily at her husband. “I’m terrible. I make rules and then break them.” She walked over to the hall door and watched a moment as Trixie and Honey and Bobby shrugged into their outdoor clothing and left hastily, laughing and talking.
    Mrs. Belden turned and saw her husband’s affectionate smile. “But I’m not sorry. They’re so young and so—helpless.” She hesitated a little over the last word.
    Peter Belden snorted and rattled his paper. “Trixie and Honey helpless? After the situations they’ve managed to get into and out of again without getting hurt?”
    “I guess I wasn’t thinking of them, so much. They’re lucky—about a lot of things. But there are others who may not mean any more harm at the start than our girls do, but who’ve had a different kind of luck.”
    Mr. Belden looked serious. “I know. Poor Regan. I wish we could do more to help him, but the safest tiling is to stay out of it and hope it works out.”
    The wind was blowing hard as Trixie and Honey ventured out into Glen Road, each holding one of Bobby’s hands. Big, racing clouds were moving down from the Catskills. Soft and fluffy like great gobs of swirling whipped cream, they seemed to be trying to escape the masses of dark gray that pursued and swallowed them one by one.
    “Looks like another big storm,” Honey shouted against the roar of the wind.
    “Marvelous! Hope the snow sticks around till we’ve staged our carnival!” Trixie yelled back. “It would be gloopy if the lake defrosted too soon!”
    Now they were past the woods that divided Crab-apple Farm from the Wheeler estate. The neat little cottage at the foot of the long, sloping driveway had once been the gatehouse of the Manor House. The B.W.G.’s had taken it over as their clubhouse.
    Trixie and Honey had found it the summer before, veiled and almost hidden by rank-growing wild honeysuckle and wisteria vines. Now, thanks to a great deal of effort on the part of the Bob-Whites, it stood neat and strong in its grove with blue spruce and dogwood trees all around.
    There had been mystery around the cottage at first, about a stolen diamond embedded in the dirt floor and vicious thieves who wanted it. But Trixie' and Honey had outmaneuvered them and turned them over to the law.
    Later, in a November hurricane, a tree had smashed the roof in. But with hard work, they had restored it, weathertight. Now all their summer and winter sports equipment, from water skis to toboggans, was stored safely in it.
    They stopped to admire their clubhouse, ignoring Bobby’s impatient tugging.
    “It was worth the struggle,” Trixie said solemnly. “And lots of fun,” Honey added.
    “It was a good thing Mr. Maypenny showed the boys how to put on the new roof,” Trixie said with a giggle, “though he did do most of