The Gatehouse Mystery

I hope I never learn," Trixie said with a sniff. "I hate needles and jewelry, especially diamonds, at the moment. By the way, is it where it should be, or did you feed it to the chickens by mistake?"
    "I wish I'd thought of that," Mart said dreamily. "A chicken's crop would be the safest place in the world. No, it's not where it should be."
    "Why not?" Trixie demanded.
    "Because," Mart said, "Moms had already packed Brian's boots in the bottom of the suitcase. She didn't know they're too small for him, and I didn't have the heart to tell her." Mart laughed.
    "Don't keep us in suspense," Trixie shouted. "Where is it?"
    Mart rubbed his chin with his thumb. "I think I'll have to start shaving soon," he said thoughtfully. "Have I got five o'clock shadow, Honey?"
    Honey shook with laughter. "No, old man," she told him, "you've got a long gray beard, and it's very becoming."
    "Stop it," Trixie interrupted. "I wish you did have some hair on your chin, Mart Belden. I'd yank it out by the roots."
    He rolled off the raft and came up gurgling. "Help. Or, as Bobby would say, holp!"
    Trixie and Honey dived off and ducked him. "Please, Mart, puh-leeze," Trixie begged. "Tell us where you put the diamond."
    "We'll drown you, if you don't," Honey warned.
    Mart promptly climbed up the ladder, and they followed. "It couldn't be in a safer place," he said. "Remember that sewing basket some poor deluded female relative gave you last Christmas, Trixie?"
    Trixie nodded. "Aunt Alicia. She tried to teach me how to tat when I was eight. You would think she would have learned after that horrible experience. What about my so-called sewing basket? I don't even know where it is."
    "I do," Mart said. "It's in the attic. When I lifted the top, after brushing away several yards of cobwebs, a few moths flew out. So I said to myself, 'If only moths frequent this spot, this is it.' Upon further examination, I deduced that, at one time, the strawberry-shaped pincushion must have come in contact with Bobby, for it, too, had a hole in its head. So I thrust the diamond inside it, replaced the top on the basket—and the cobwebs—and dashed downstairs without arousing anyone's suspicions."
    Trixie sneered. "Says you! Where, pray tell, was Bobby while you were exploring the jungles of the attic with rod and camera?"
    Mart gave her a superior glance. "In his room replacing the toys you flung out of his toy box. Brother, is he furious! Revenge, he tells me, will be sweet. Saccharine-sweet!"
    Trixie bit her lip. "I meant to put all that junk back, but it hardly seemed worthwhile. Even the blocks looked as though rats had been gnawing them. Is Moms mad at me, too?" she asked with a sniff.
    Mart shrugged. "We had hardly time to discuss your tidy nature, our mother and I, but Bobby is not mad. He is wild. Especially since he was assigned the chore of making his small room navigable again."
    Trixie tossed her damp, blond curls. "Serves him right. He's wrecked my room plenty of times, and I had to pick up the pieces."
    "Well, anyway," Honey put in, "it's good to know that the diamond is in a safe place."
    "I'm not at all sure of that," Trixie said worriedly. "Suppose Bobby decides to throw my sewing basket into the trash can for spite? He's too young to know that I despise the thing."
    "Pooh, pooh," Mart said airily. "He probably has no idea that it belongs to you. From the evidence, I would say that it was relegated to the attic on Christmas night."
    "Stop using big words," Trixie said crossly. "It's getting on my nerves. I wish I knew exactly when I did put that sewing basket up in the attic. Moths didn't really fly out when you opened it, did they, Mart?"
    "That," he admitted, "was a slight exaggeration. But the cobwebs were not exaggerated."
    "They mean nothing," Trixie said. "They grow like weeds during the hot summer weather."
    "They don't grow," Mart corrected her. "If you had my superior education, you would know that they are spun."
    Trixie ignored him. "I think I'd better go home,"
    she said, "and put that diamond in another place. I don't trust Bobby. I don't trust him when he's in a sunny mood, and if he's sulking-well, anything could happen."
    She dived off the raft and swam back to the boathouse.

Regan Has a Secret • 11

    BUT TRIXIE did not go straight home, after all. By the time she had changed into dungarees and a clean shirt, Brian and Jim had come back with the rented horse.
    Trixie met them as she was crossing the driveway on her way to the