The Gatehouse Mystery

couldn't stand it. He'll be back soon, I'm sure, with a suitcase which your mother already packed with whatever clothes you'll need."
    "Moms," Trixie cried, "is an angel. She's much too good to me. I don't deserve it. I'm always complaining about something."
    Brian patted her arm affectionately. "You're not so bad, Sis. Dad is very proud of you. He was telling us how hard you've worked to earn the money for Jed Tomlin's colt."
    "I wish I had my own horse now," Trixie said. "Then we could all go riding this evening when it gets cooler."
    "That's the best surprise of all," Honey said smugly. "There are five horses in the stable right now. Miss Trask arranged with Mr. Tomlin to rent us that sweet little black mare for the weekend. You remember Susie, Trixie?"
    "Oh, oh," Trixie cried. "I fell in love with her the day we went over there with your father and Jim to look at all the horses. Is Susie really in the stable right now?"
    "I think so," Honey said. "Anyway, if she isn't, Regan will go and get her. He's due back from his day off on the six o'clock train. He can ride over to Mr. Tomlin's then on Jupe and lead Susie back."
    "I can do it, for that matter," Brian offered. "It's only a three-mile round trip. Gosh," he finished, "I'm dying to meet Regan."
    "He's a great guy," Jim said. "And let's give him a break. Let's go down to the stable and see if Susie has arrived. If she hasn't, you and I can go get her. I'll ride Jupe, and you can take the new horse, Starlight. He's a chestnut gelding, and I think you'll like him, Brian."
    "Great," Brian said. "Let's go. We don't need to bother with boots, do we? I outgrew my only pair this summer."
    "Boots," Jim said with a grin. "What are they? Only Dad and Mother wear 'em around here."
    After the boys left, Trixie and Honey changed into swimsuits. When they came down to the porch, they saw Jim and Brian riding down the driveway. Then Mart came into sight carrying a suitcase.
    "Gleeps, creeps, and weeps," he shouted. "Have you heard about the house party, Trix?"
    "Isn't it super?" she asked. "Did you run into Dad, and what did he say?"
    "He arrived just as I was leaving, and he thought the whole idea was great." Mart hurried inside with the suitcase and came back in a few minutes wearing his swimming trunks. "Where are Jim and Brian?"
    The girls explained on the way down to the boathouse. "This is too much," Mart exploded. "Gosh, Honey, can we all go for a ride through the woods this evening?"
    Honey nodded and slipped a cap on over her shiny, brown hair. "We're going to have dinner early especially so we can ride around eight, when it begins to cool off. And we can take one last dip in the lake after that, if we want to. And tomorrow morning we can ride or swim before breakfast, or both. Miss Trask thought we might like to fix our own breakfast down here on the grill. There's a waffle iron someplace around and skewers, so we can barbecue tomatoes wrapped in bacon slices."
    "Yummy-yum- yum ." Trixie licked her lips and blinked her blue eyes. Mart pushed her off the diving board. Then Honey pushed him off, lost her balance, and fell in. But she beat them all to the raft.
    There, they stretched out in the late afternoon sun, and Mart said, "Let's hear your theory of how the diamond and the footprints came into our lives, Trix. I want to know why Honey thinks the police are going to love us when we confess."
    "Well," Trixie began, "suppose two robbers spent Tuesday night in the cottage. Then they had a fight. The dirt floor was plenty scuffed. During the battle, one of them dropped the diamond, and it got ground into the mud. They left; and when they realized it was missing from their loot, they came back. But"—she summed it up—"we had already found it. So you see, if it hadn't been for us, the thieves would have it. That's what Honey meant when she said we have already helped the police."
    "From you," Mart said, "it sounds swell. But a shamus could find a million holes in that theory."
    "How slangy can we get?" Trixie demanded. "All we seem to talk about these days are shamuses and dips. Jim had the nerve to say that when Honey and I open our detective agency, we'd call ourselves Schoolgirl Shamuses, Incorporated."
    Honey giggled. "It grows on you. I'm beginning to like it. Schoolgirl Shamuses. Um-m-m. What do you think, Mart?"
    "I think," Mart said, "that you girls had better stick to your knitting. Not that Trixie knows the difference between a p-u-r-l and p-e-a-r-l."
    "And