The Gatehouse Mystery

We thought it was real nice of them to offer to help."
    "Pay them no mind," Trixie said airily. "They had junior counselor jobs this summer, and they haven't recovered yet."
    She and Honey followed the boys, who were waiting for them outside the kitchen door. In a few minutes, Jim joined them. "I'm so full of food I can hardly walk, let alone ride horseback," he said as they strolled toward the stable.
    "Me, too," the others chorused.
    "I really ought to go home and get that diamond," Trixie said, and explained to Jim and Brian. "Do you think it's safe in my sewing basket?" she finished.
    "Gosh, I don't know," Brian replied worriedly. "Did you say, Mart, that the pincushion showed signs of having been manhandled by Bobby?"
    Mart nodded. "Anything stuffed, whether it be in the form of fruit or wild beast, sooner or later loses its stuffing if Bobby has anything to do with it. The strawberry pincushion bore his mark—a hole in the head."
    "Not that strawberries have heads," Trixie said. "But we get the idea, professor. What are you leading up to, Brian?"
    "Just this," he said. "If the pincushion bears Bobby's mark, it may mean that he knows it belongs to you. He may well have gouged a hole in it, sometime or other, to pay you back for something you did to him."
    "Gleeps," Mart howled. "I should have thought of that. I know that age group only too well. They're uncivilized little savages. Especially when seeking revenge upon older persons; and more especially, poor, hardworking, well-meaning junior counselors. Take my knapsack, for instance—"
    "Never mind, never mind," Trixie interrupted. "Just run along and put the diamond in some other, safer, place. We'll wait right here for you. In fact, I think I'll curl up on the saddle blankets and take a nap while you're gone."
    "Is that so?" Mart grabbed one of her short sandy curls and gave it a gentle yank. "If you're so smart, you can go and retrieve the diamond yourself."
    "Better not stand around arguing about it," Brian advised them. "Bobby's favorite time for committing vandalism, if I seem to remember, is after he's supposed to be tucked safely in bed." He pointed to the clock on the tack room wall. "It's almost eight."
    "You're so right," Trixie moaned. "We may already be too late. Come on, Mart; please come with me. I couldn't stand it alone if that diamond has disappeared again."

Mr. Lytell's Observations • 2

    MART AND TRIXIE raced into their house and up the stairs to the attic. Mrs. Belden called to them from the hall below before they had a chance to pick their way across the boxes and trunks to the spot where they hoped the sewing basket would be.
    "Is that you, Trixie?" she asked. "Did you come back for something?"
    "And how!" Mart muttered under his breath. "It's Mart and Trixie, Moms," he called from the top step. "All right," she said. "Having a good time?"
    "Wonderful," Trixie replied. "You were an angel to give me a vacation, Moms."
    "You deserved it," Mrs. Belden said.
    They heard her go down the stairs to the ground floor, and then they hurried over to a comer. "Eureka!" Mart chortled. "It's here."
    "The pincushion," Trixie said weakly. "You look, Mart."
    "It's here, too," he said. "And so is the diamond. Bobby should sue us for libel."
    Trixie cuddled the precious stone in her hand for a minute, then she crammed it back inside the strawberry pincushion. "Now what, Mart?"
    "If you could only sew," he said, "you could sew the thing right inside the pincushion and substitute it for the one Moms has just like it in her sewing basket. It would be perfectly safe there, even from Bobby. He never touches her things."
    "I can't sew well enough to make this strawberry look just like the one Moms has," Trixie admitted. "But Honey could. She's expert with any kind of needle, and, after all, there's only just a rip in the seam." She scrabbled through the basket and finally found some red thread which exactly matched the strawberry pincushion.
    "You'll need a needle, too," Mart reminded her, "or do you know that much about mending?"
    Trixie giggled. "Don't needle me. Let's go. And let's appoint Brian a committee of one to do the substituting. Moms and Dad would never suspect him of doing anything peculiar. He's the fair-haired boy around here, even if he is a brunet."
    "Wait a sec," Mart cautioned her. "You can't go barging downstairs with anything as suspicious as sewing equipment in your hand. Moms would faint with surprise. Besides, we ought to be carrying