The Happy Valley Mystery

red-handed!”
    “You what?” Mr. Gorman demanded. “Ben a thief? What rank nonsense! What are you talking about?” Dramatically Trixie told him, with Mart trying to talk at the same time.
    When Mr. Gorman could piece together what they were saying sufficiently to understand them, he laughed. He laughed and he laughed. And then Mrs. Gorman laughed, too, till she almost cried.
    Trixie and Mart just stood there getting angrier and angrier. Finally, Trixie stamped her foot on the floor and said, “Stop that! Don’t you want to find out what is happening to the sheep?”
    “We sure do, Trixie,” Mr. Gorman said. “Sure as you’re born. Only Ben isn’t stealing the sheep.”
    “How do you know,” Trixie asked, “when you won’t even go and find out? What else could he be doing, sneaking off into the night that way and swinging his lantern around, signaling?”
    “Hunting possums,” Mrs. Gorman said and put her arm around Trixie. “If there’s anything in the world Ben likes, it’s roast possum. On dark nights he goes after them... trees them and blinds them with his lantern. Wait till tomorrow when you taste the fat one he brings home.”
    “I don’t want to taste one. I’d never in the world taste one,” Trixie said. “I’d just as soon eat... Blackie or Tip or Tag!”
    “Whew!” Mr. Gorman said. “You should have the red hair instead of Jim. Sheep thief!” Mr. Gorman was still laughing as he turned back into his room. “Wait till I tell this to Ben! Trixie, remember what I said about leaving the problem to Joe Brown, the sheriff? That remark still stands. Get some sleep now, girls. You, too, Mart. Ben a sheep thief! Imagine that, Mary!” Trixie didn’t move. “Maybe we did make a mistake,” she said. “Maybe Ben isn’t a sheep thief. Maybe it’s true that he was swinging the lantern to blind the possum. But what about that lighted window off in the woods? And why did someone pull down the blind when Ben swung his lantern?”
    “Yes, sir,” Mart repeated, “how about that?”
    “Imagination,” Mr. Gorman said. “There’s no house off in that woods. Imagination—just imagination.”
     

Bob-Whites in the Spotlight • 8
     
    LISTEN TO THIS.” Trixie spread the letter from her mother on the table in the breakfast nook. “Listen, Jim —all of you! Moms said that Dan stopped in to see her and get news of us, and guess what!”
    “I’ll see for myself,” Mart said, taking their mother’s letter. “Gosh... old Dan has himself a job!”
    “How can he?” Honey asked. “He couldn’t come with us because he had to be tutored this vacation. What kind of a job?”
    “After he gets through with his lessons,” Mart said. “It’s a honey of a job. I wish I had a chance at it. He’s giving figure skating lessons part time at the White Plains rink.”
    “That’s perfect for Dan!” Diana said.
    “Something else Moms said,” Trixie announced. “Dan told her we should have taken our skates with us, so she sent them. They’ll probably get here after we leave. I wonder what Dan thought we’d do with skates out here in the country?”
    “There’s a good indoor rink at Rivervale,” Ben remarked as he stopped in the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. “And our rink is open day and night. Happy Valley isn’t exactly the last frontier.”
    “We know that,” Honey said quickly. “Don’t be so edgy, Ben. We think it’s swell here. When our skates come, we’ll try out the rink. That is, if you’ll lend us your jalopy to get over there.”
    “I think I can manage that,” Ben said. “Say, Trixie,” he went on, winking at Jim, “when are you going to slip the handcuffs on me?”
    “You told!” Trixie accused Mr. Gorman.
    “Of course I did,” Mr. Gorman said. “If Ben is stealing my sheep, I want him to stop it right now.”
    “Well, I just think it was mean of you to tell him,” Trixie said, her face bright red.
    “Can’t you tell when they’re teasing you?” Mrs. Gorman asked. “I think it’s real good of you to try to find out who’s stealing those sheep, Trixie. I know one thing—if someone doesn’t find out pretty soon, most of our ewes will be gone, and then—”
    “It won’t be long till I’m gone, too... no longer manager of Happy Valley Farm. That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Mary?” Mr. Gorman’s face was serious.
    Ben’s face sobered, too. “That’s right,” he said. “One thing you said sort of stays in my mind, Trixie. About