The Marshland Mystery

she plays the harp and carries it around with her!” the old lady said firmly. “She hasn’t been here, and I’m not expecting her. So run along!” And with that, she stepped back and slammed the door in Trixie’s face.
    Trixie’s face was red. “Thanks for being so polite!”
    Then she turned and stalked down the brick pathway toward the small white gate.
    As she leaned down to unlatch the gate, she noticed something shining up from between two bricks in the walk.
    It was glassy and seemed to flash when the sunlight struck it.
    “Piece of bottle,” Trixie decided. But she leaned over and picked up the shiny object, anyway.
    To her surprise, it was cut like a gem. It was about the size of the diamond that Honey and she had found in the gatehouse floor months ago. Had she found another?
    She let it lie on her palm and reflect the sunlight. If it’s anything valuable , I ought to take it to the door and give it to the old meanie, she thought. But just as she decided to do it, she turned the stone over and saw that it was a piece of glass with colored backing painted on, like the rhinestones that her mother had sewed on her costume when she was eleven and played the fairy queen in the school play. Just a rhinestone, but quite a big one.
    She started to flip it into the grass, then stopped suddenly. She had seen a lot of rhinestones like this lately.
    They were decorating something. What was it?
    All at once she remembered. That silly collar of Mr. Poo’s was set with rows of glittering fake diamonds like this. It was the first thing she noticed when the little dog leaped at Reddy yesterday afternoon.
    Finding the piece of glass here meant that he and Gaye had been inside the gate. And if they had been inside, they could both be in the cottage with the strange old lady, in spite of what she said.
    But why hadn’t she admitted Gaye was there? It was very strange.
    Trixie had to know if Gaye was inside the cottage. But how could she find out? She was sure the old lady wouldn’t answer her knock again, no matter how long she might hammer on the door.
    For once, Trixie had to admit to herself that it was too much to figure out alone. She knew that she needed help.
     

“Bob-Whites to the Rescue” • 9
     
    TRIXIE DROPPED the shining rhinestone into her jacket pocket and went out through the squeaky gate. She tried her best not to seem in a hurry. She felt sure that the old lady was watching her through the window again. And, unless she was wrong in her guess, Gaye was probably right beside the old lady, giggling because she knew that she was worrying everyone by hiding. By riding away slowly, Trixie hoped she could give them the impression that she had given up looking for Gaye there.
    If Gaye were to suspect that Trixie intended to come back again with somebody to help her search, the little girl would probably hide in the swamp with Mr. Poo till she was certain that everyone was worried sick about what had happened to her.
    So Trixie strolled over to Lady and climbed into the saddle without looking back toward the house. She rode at a walk at first, but as soon as she had gone around the first turn, she slapped Lady smartly on the flank and urged her into a brisk canter.
    “I guess I’d better go right on up to the house and tell Miss Crandall what I’ve found out. I mean, what I think I’ve found out.” She didn’t know what Miss Crandall would want to do. Maybe she’d want to go right out there and find out if Gaye really was in the cottage, or she might prefer to call the police and let them go. But it seemed to Trixie, just then, that Miss Crandall was the person she should talk to first.
    She was over halfway home when she remembered that she had solemnly promised Regan that she wouldn’t run Lady. She hated to slow down now, but she had to. If Regan suspected that she had disobeyed orders, she’d be grounded for a week. So she slowed the mare to a trot the rest of the way.
    It seemed ages before she reached the foot of the Manor House driveway. She saw that there were still a couple of cars in front of the big house. One of them looked like the small car that Paul Trent was using. He was probably hanging around with his tongue out for the news in case anyone found Gaye. Trixie wished that she had been able to bring Gaye home with her from the marsh cottage. That would have shown Mr. Trent that the Bob-Whites did know a few answers.
    She was passing the little clubhouse when she noticed that