The Marshland Mystery

between sips of the hot herb tea. The small cottage living room was bright with sunlight as they sat with Honey and Di and little Gaye and chatted politely.
    “I wish you had, child.” Miss Rachel smiled. “Why didn’t you?”
    “Well—” Trixie paused and looked to Honey for assistance—“you see, we met Paul Trent when he left here in a hurry, 'and he looked so mean and angry that we were afraid he had upset you about something.”
    “And so we just didn’t want to intrude on you,” Honey added.
    Miss Rachel frowned and rocked silently in the low rocking chair that looked as if it had been made in Colonial days. “Mr. Trent is a thoughtless young man. He came here asking me some very personal questions about my family history, and when I hesitated to answer them, he made insulting remarks about my ancestors, and I ordered him to leave my property.”
    “I should think you would!” Trixie said fiercely. “He’s just plain disagreeable.” Her own resentment was still simmering.
    “Well, I think we’ll just forget that young man now and enjoy our visit,” Miss Rachel said. “I believe there are more cupcakes in my pantry.” She went out to see if she could find them.
    “Do you think we should tell her about the story in this morning’s Sun ?” Trixie whispered hastily to Honey and Di.
    “Oh, no! There’s no use upsetting her again,” Honey answered softly, and Di nodded her agreement.
    When Miss Rachel came back, in triumph, with a newly filled cake plate, they talked about her herb collection and the recipe for the delicious mint tea.
    “I’m very proud of my herb garden,” Miss Martin told them as she led the way outside to the neat little plot. “There’s my Oswego tea. Some call it bee balm. Our pioneer families used it for reducing fever. That’s wood sorrel over there. I transplanted it from the marsh. It’s very tasty in a salad when it’s young.” She told them the names of so many that they gave up trying to remember them, and they made her promise that she’d make a list of them soon so they could come out again to get it, along with some samples of herbs for the botany class.
    “And please don’t forget the recipe for this tea,” Di reminded her.
    “You shall have that now,” Miss Rachel promised and went to the small rosewood desk in the corner to get pencil and paper.
    “Oh, what a lovely brass box!” Trixie exclaimed. She hadn’t noticed it on top of the desk before. It was about a foot wide and six inches deep, and it was deeply embossed on all sides with the writhing forms of dragons. On top, a large, ferocious-looking dragon, with five claws on each foot, was devouring a smaller one.
    “My great-grandfather brought it from China on one of his voyages,” Miss Rachel told them, pleased, as she lifted the heavy box and handed it to Trixie to examine.
    “Look at those green eyes!” Trixie said admiringly and touched the big dragon’s inlaid eyes. “He’s gorgeous.”
    “He should be!” Miss Rachel laughed. “He’s an imperial dragon. Only imperial dragons have five claws.” The girls studied the battle admiringly. Trixie giggled. “Looks like old five-claw is winning.”
    “Imperial dragons always won, or the imperial ruler would have cut off the artist’s head in those days,” Miss Rachel said with a little laugh. “It’s a very old box.”
    “I like the green eyes.” Trixie rubbed her fingers over the stones that seemed to send out green rays in the sunlight. “I guess he’s the original green-eyed monster people keep talking about.”
    “You should recognize him if he is!” Honey teased, with a meaningful look toward Gaye, who was quite absorbed in trying to finish the last of the cupcakes and keep Mr. Poo from getting more than she did.
    Trixie wrinkled her nose at her friend and then put the box down reluctantly. “Good-bye, beautiful,” she told the dragon, with a final pat on his menacing brow. “You go ahead and enjoy your fun.”
    “Goodness, it is time to leave!” Di agreed.
    In a few minutes, they were on their way home in the car.
    “She’s a darling,” Honey said, glancing back toward the cottage as they turned the bend in the road. “I wonder what Trent said about her family that was insulting.”
    “Oh, probably that old silly about being in partnership with the pirate.” Trixie shrugged. “You remember—about the pirate gold being hidden in Martin’s Marsh.”
    Gaye had been huddled, half-asleep, with Mr.