The Happy Valley Mystery

there. Mr. Gorman, you should see the queer-looking sheep he has. Wait a minute; I wrote it down. It’s a kind of French merino... here it is... Rambouillet.”
    “You don’t see many of them in Iowa,” Mr. Gorman said. “As a matter of fact, I never did see one.”
    “They have skin as loose as a basset hound’s,” Ben told the Bob-Whites. “It hangs in folds. I’d hate to shear one of them. The wool brings a good price, though. Maybe I’ll have some of them when I get my own farm. It’d be worth a try.”
    “Are you going to be a sheep farmer?” Trixie asked. “I’m going to try to be,” Ben answered with a grin. “A real farmer with a real farm—not a New York farm the size of a handkerchief.”
    “You’ve been in rural New York, then?” Trixie asked, annoyed.
    “No, I haven’t, and I don’t want to be,” Ben answered. “Too much fancy stuff. Give me the wide open spaces,” he sang, half under his breath.
    “We have some real farms, as you call them, in New York,” Trixie said, “and one of the best agricultural schools in the whole United States... Cornell.”
    “It’s a good school,” Ben conceded, “but, say, you should just get over to Iowa State before you go back home.” As he got up from the table, he asked, “Did you say this outfit wanted to go fishing?”
    “Yes, Ben, I think some of them would like to,” Mr. Gorman said.
    “Well, then, let’s get going. We have to dig worms first,” he added as he went out the door.
    “Don’t mind Ben,” Mr. Gorman said. “We had a visitor from New York City last summer who patronized him till he saw red. Ben stood him just so long, then he took him snipe hunting. Don’t let him catch you on that one. The poor guy held a bag open out there on the hill all night long, waiting for a snipe to go into it. Ben had a good night’s rest. I guess he thinks all New Yorkers are the same. He might just make an exception of your Uncle Andrew’s family. He’ll show you a good time fishing.”
    “Anybody coming?” Ben stuck his head in the door to ask. The boys jumped up to join him.
    “I don’t think I’ll go,” Trixie said.
    “Are you afraid of worms?” Ben asked.
    “She’s not afraid of anything,” Jim said. “You’ll find that out. Come on with us, Trixie.”
    “No, thanks,” Trixie said. “I have to fry, not catch.” She accented her words for Ben’s benefit.
    “Doesn’t he think he’s smart?” she asked Honey and Diana when they were all doing the luncheon dishes for Mrs. Gorman. “I think there’s something just a little bit odd about him.”
    “Do you think he’s a sheep thief?” Honey asked, laughing. “He doesn’t have a black beard, you know.”
    “Black beard?” Mrs. Gorman asked.
    “Yes—” Honey began.
    “Honey Wheeler,” Trixie said under her breath, “Honey Wheeler, if you say one word to anyone about that... well, you can just forget all about our plans for an agency when we finish school. I’m going upstairs and write a letter to Moms.”
     

A Strange Light • 7
     
    ABOUT SIX O’CLOCK the fishermen returned with four good-sized bass and about a dozen bluegills. The boys cleaned them, and then, under Mrs. Gorman’s direction, Trixie rolled the fish in cornmeal and browned them in butter.
    Ben came in and ruffled Trixie’s curls. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?” he asked. “I always have liked to tease girls. The boys were telling me about some of the bad hombres you’ve hunted down. I take off my hat to you.”
    Trixie turned the crisp fish onto a warmed platter, then led Ben to a box in the comer of the kitchen.
    “Hunting these down was the most fun I ever had,” she said, and she picked up a little black and white kitten and held it to her cheek. “Isn’t it darling?”
    “Well, I’ll be darned,” Ben said. “I’ve hunted all over for Blackie’s kittens. I’ll bet she really had them hidden. Where did you find them?”
    “In the closet in your room where you keep your summer clothes,” Trixie said triumphantly. “You must have left the door to your closet open. Mrs. Gorman asked me to bring the towels out of your room—she’s going to wash clothes tomorrow—and I noticed the open closet door. I started to close it, and there they were— four of them.” Trixie sat on the floor and pulled the kittens into her lap.
    “Right in my own room!” Ben said, chagrined. “Almost under my own nose!”
    “No, right on top of your good summer sport