The Marshland Mystery

you think so, Trix?”
    “No!” Trixie set her jaw stubbornly. “And if nobody else wants to go, I’m going alone.”
    Mart took a quick look at his sister’s expression and knew that she meant it. He had seen that look before. “Just where is the swamp you’re heading for?” he asked, a little more seriously.
    “Miss Bennett said most of her plant specimens came from Sedley Swamp. That’s where we’re going.”
    “Sedley Swamp!” Mart exclaimed. Then he shouted with laughter. “My dear lame-brained sister, there ain’t no such animal. Sedley Swamp is no more. It is now part of our new concrete superhighway!”
     

Strange Visitors ● 2
     
    OH, NO! YOU’RE JUST trying to be funny, Mart Belden!” Trixie accused her brother.
    “Don’t tease, Mart,” Honey seconded her. “Really, we re very serious about gathering some plants out there tomorrow for Miss Bennett.”
    “If you are,” Mart said, still amused, “you’ll have to dig down under a few feet of concrete before you find Sedley Swamp. It has faded into history.”
    “Well,” Trixie sighed, “I suppose that’s that. And I had such big plans for walking into botany room Monday with my arms full of milkweed and bee balm!”
    “Now you’ll have to study, instead of trying to get good marks by buttering up Miss Bennett,” Mart continued teasingly.
    Trixie flashed him an annoyed look. “We weren’t buttering her up at all.” Then she explained about the destruction of the teacher’s prize specimens.
    Honey added the last word. “So, you see, Trixie was being very unselfish, Mart. And it was her own idea, not Di’s or mine.”
    “Very noble, I’m sure,” Mart agreed, “but why do you busy little bees have to gather the plants from one special swamp? Won’t any other one do?”
    “Of course. Only I never heard of another swamp within biking distance,” Trixie said promptly.
    “There is one, but you probably didn’t think of it as a swamp. It’s called Martin’s Marsh, but that would convey nothing to you, dear sister, because you, with your complete lack of familiarity with your native tongue, could hardly be expected to realize that marsh is simply a synonym for swamp. ”
    Trixie sniffed. “I happen to know that marshes and swamps are practically the same, but I never heard of any Martin’s Marsh—and I bet you made up the name.”
    “I wish you’d mean it even half the times you say ‘I bet,’ ” Mart chuckled. “I’d be rich with all the money I’d win from you. It just happens that it’s about a half mile east of Sleepyside, beyond the old Martin Manor House ruins. Brian gathered most of his specimens there when he was taking botany.”
    “Oh, good!” Honey said quickly. “You can ask him how to get there, Trixie!”
    “And find out which plants should be blooming there now, this early in the season,” Di added. “I’ve heard that some herbs should be gathered in spring and others when they’re in bloom in July or August. And some you shouldn’t pick till they go to seed—and—” She was getting interested in the project now.
    “Brian knows all the answers,” Mart interrupted. He glanced at his wristwatch. “But if you intend to ask him anything, Trix, you’d better scoot off home, quick like a rabbit, and do it before he gets too deep in his Latin. He has to study all evening to make up for taking the day off tomorrow to help with the planting.”
    “I’ll be on my way right now,” Trixie assured him. And to the girls she said hastily, “I’ll phone you both the very minute I’ve talked to Brian. Then you can talk to your folks and arrange for the trip. Don’t forget to remind them that it’s really part of our schoolwork.”
    “Mother is having some people at the house for a few days,” Honey said, a little frown creasing her forehead, “but I’m sure they aren’t any of our relatives or anybody she’d want me to stay home and entertain. I can’t remember who they are. Some foreign name, I think. Something to do with the Arts Club that Mother’s president of.”
    “I don’t think I’m doing anything special this weekend,” Di said, “so I won’t have much trouble getting away.”
    “Wonderful! Don’t go far from the phone, and I’ll call just as soon as I can.”
    Trixie shifted her load of books to her other hip and started off along Glen Road toward the small white Belden farmhouse. Mart caught up with her in a couple of strides, and they hurried along in