The Marshland Mystery

noticed that her father’s place was not set.
    “Where’s Dad, Moms? I wanted to ask him something about Miss Martin,” Trixie said.
    “He ate early and dashed over to Wheelers’ to talk about some business or other with Mr. Wheeler. He’ll stay on for the reception, and I’ll join him as soon as I’m able to.”
    “I’ll be glad to run you over, Moms,” Brian said. “Thanks, dear. I’ll phone Miss Trask that she needn’t send the car for me, in that case.”
    “Nice going, bud,” Mart said sourly to Brian. “I peel potatoes and scrape carrots, and now I get stuck with the dishes, as well.”
    “Seems to me there’s a certain curly-headed squaw not more than a mile away from here,” Brian said with a meaningful look at Trixie, “who’d be glad to lend you some expert help.”
    “I wonder where she could be?” Mart asked, pretending to look all around the room and under the table.
    “You can stop being silly, both of you. And I can do the dishes without any china-breakers pretending to help me!” And Trixie elevated a snub nose at both her big brothers.
    “Ah! But it’s a poor job that doesn’t need a boss to watch it!” Mart grinned. “So I’ll hang around and keep you amused with my witty sallies while you labor.”
    But a little later, when Brian and their mother had left, Mart and Trixie washed and dried the dishes and forgot all about their little squabble as Trixie told Mart about Gaye and the borrowed white dress that had seemed to startle Miss Rachel.
    “I can hardly wait for Dad to get home so I can find out who Emily was,” Trixie concluded.
    “Ah! A mystery, hey? Well, it’s been all of a couple of weeks since we had one kicking around here!” Mart teased.
    “You can laugh, but if you’d seen Miss Rachel’s face when she saw Gaye, you’d wonder, too!”
     

Out of the Past ● 12
     
    THEY WERE ALMOST finished with the dishes when the phone in the study rang. It was a mad dash, but Trixie got to it first and heard Honey’s voice.
    “Hi, Honey!” she said, settling down in her father’s overstuffed chair, with her feet over the side. “How’s it going?”
    Mart waved a dishcloth at her from the doorway and melted away back to the kitchen. “Don’t talk all night!” he called back and then disappeared.
    Honey’s voice sounded a little worried. “Gaye’s in bed, resting till the last minute before the people start arriving. She looks to Miss Trask as if she might have a fever, but Miss Crandall says it is just that she’s so high-strung and so nervous after her shocking experience this afternoon!”
    “What she needs is a spank or two,” Trixie said with a disgusted snort. “Her aunt must know that she hid up in that loft deliberately when I was trying to find her.
    If she had answered me, none of the rest of it would have happened.”
    “I suppose Miss Crandall does know it, and she’s probably furious with Gaye.” Honey’s worried tones turned to a giggle. “Gaye’s maid told Miss Trask that Miss Crandall doesn’t dare to cross Gaye too often, because Gaye gets even by pretending to be too ill to practice and then has to be coddled and bribed.”
    “One good thing,” Trixie said, laughing, “she won’t be able to cause an uproar very much longer. She’ll have to leave soon on her tour.”
    “Thank goodness!” Honey said quickly and then seemed to feel ashamed. “Oh, I shouldn't have said that. I guess we don’t realize that it can’t be much fun to be a child prodigy.”
    “I s’pose that’s true,” Trixie admitted soberly. “Moms says that she’s glad there are no prodigies in our house. We’re about as far from that as we can get, I guess.”
    “Who cares?” Honey had her laugh back. “I wouldn’t want to live with one, I know. Not if they’re all like our dear little Gaye!”
    “It would be a shame if she disappointed all those people who have promised to come tonight, Trixie said indignantly.
    “It really would,” Honey agreed, “especially after Mother and her committee have worked so hard.”
    “Well, I guess that’s how it is with prodigies.” Trixie sighed sympathetically.
    Mart appeared in the doorway. He had a wedge of blueberry pie in his hand and a rim of blue around his lips. “You can stop stalling here now. I just scrubbed the last of the pans,” he said and took another bite.
    “Ugh! Excuse me, Honey; I’ve got to go now,” Trixie said into the phone, “but call me again if anything exciting