The Marshland Mystery

good-naturedly. “There goes your big kidnap scare, kid. Spoiled little girl hides for kicks, but, thanks to Miss Trixie here, no harm done!” He beamed at Trixie.
    Trent scowled toward Trixie and the boys and spoke loudly enough for them to hear him. “Yeah, Miss Trixie’s a smart little cookie. Everybody knows that. I’ll see she gets credit. This little stunt could sell a lot of tickets for the Arts Club! Hooray for the Bob-Whites!” Then he laughed and swaggered away toward the car.
    Sergeant Rooney chuckled. “He’s a bad loser. Don’t mind him, Trixie. We don’t think you cooked up the whole deal, even if he does!” He grinned and added, “Or says he does!”
    Trixie was bewildered. “I don’t understand. That’s just silly of him.”
    Jim scowled. “I think I’ll go take that up with him, before he makes any mistakes in his story!” He turned away to follow Trent, with a grim look on his face.
    “Hold it,” Sergeant Rooney said quickly. “Let him go. He’s just spouting off to save face, after all his loud talk about a kidnapping. He doesn’t really think Trixie or any of you had anything to do with Gaye’s running away.”
    “He’s a nut if he does,” Brian growled.
    But Trixie wasn’t at all convinced that the young reported was “just spouting off.” She thought uneasily that she would feel a lot better after she had seen what the Sun had to say in its Monday edition about the affair.
    “Too bad the little demon had to get Miss Rachel mixed up in her mischief,” Brian said. “She’s a sweet old lady.”
    “I think so, too,” Trixie agreed quickly. “Oh, I meant to ask you whether Dad ever mentioned someone called Emily when he talked to you about the Martin family.”
    “Not that I remember. Why?” Brian seemed surprised.
    Trixie explained about Miss Rachel calling out the name when she caught sight of Gaye in the little white dress.
    “I just wondered who Emily was,” she concluded.
    “Dad’s sure to know,” Brian said. “Why don’t you ask him at dinner —if we ever do get home before midnight!” He glanced suggestively at his wristwatch.
    “Yikes!” Trixie clapped her hands to her head. “Moms will skin me alive! Let’s get started this minute! I promised I’d be back in a couple of hours, and here it-s already getting dark!”
    They piled hurriedly into Brian’s jalopy and sped homeward. Jim jumped out at the foot of the Wheeler driveway and vanished in the twilight, with a wave of his hand.
    Mrs. Belden didn’t scold. She had called the Wheelers and knew everything that had been going on.
    “I’ve had expert help,” she told Trixie, giving her a peek at Mart, who was glumly setting the dining table. Trixie stifled a giggle as she carefully backed away from the kitchen door.
    “Just go wash up and see that Bobby’s ready for dinner,” her mother suggested.
    “Okay, Moms!” Trixie dashed off to find Bobby.
    “Where’s my bike?” he demanded accusingly, when she finally located him watching the baby chicks in the new incubator. “I been waitin’ an’ waitin’, an’ I bet you forgot to get it.”
    “Oh, no, I didn’t! It’s right in its stall. Tomorrow you can go riding with me. Won’t that be fun? We’ll go exploring and see if we can find some wild flowers for Moms!”
    “I want Gaye to come, too. I want her to ’splore with us.”
    Trixie couldn’t help feeling a tiny twinge of jealousy again, but she swallowed it and said quickly. “We’ll invite her, but she may be busy. You know, Gaye’s not an ordinary little girl with lots of time to play with other children.”
    Bobby frowned. “You don’t like her.”
    “Of course I do!” Trixie assured him. “Now come along and get cleaned up, or Moms will be angry.”
    Bobby let her take his hand and lead him toward the house. “Gaye’s so pretty. I just love Gaye. I hope she stays at Honey’s house a long, long time. Don’t you, Trixie?”
    “Oh, sure!” Trixie said hastily. “Let’s hurry now.”
    “Ask her about tomorrow now,” Bobby demanded as they came into the house and started upstairs. “Call her.”
    “I haven’t time right now, Bobby,” Trixie explained hastily. “I’ll call her later.”
    “But I have to go to bed early,” Bobby protested. “Okay, I’ll come wake you up as soon as I talk to Gaye. How’s that?”
    “Well—” Bobby thought it over—“awright. But don’t forget!”
    It wasn’t until they sat down to dinner that Trixie