The Marshland Mystery

Poo cuddled in her arms. She sat up suddenly, staring at Trixie. “Pirate gold? In the swamp?”
    Trixie waved it aside and laughed. “There never was any there, of course. But a lot of people believed it.”
    “Wasn’t any ever found there?” Gaye persisted.
    “Of course not! People found snakes and quicksand and all sorts of accidents but never any sign of gold,” Honey assured her. “It’s a gruesome place. Br-r-r!”
    “I wouldn’t be afraid to look,” Gaye said thoughtfully, stroking Mr. Poo’s head. “I’d take Mr. Poo along, and we’d have no trouble finding it, I’m sure.”
    Tom Delanoy turned and grinned back at them. “Better not let your Aunt Della hear you, Miss Gaye. She might think you meant that.”
    “I do!” Gaye said defiantly. “Mr. Poo would chew up the snakes, and I’d dig up the gold, and I’d give it to Aunt Della, and then I wouldn’t ever have to play my old violin again or go traveling all the time when I’m tired!” There was a break in her voice as she finished.
    Honey and the shocked Di exchanged looks of dismay, but Trixie motioned them not to say anything. Gaye bent her head over and rested it on Mr. Poo’s soft coat. Trixie couldn’t see her face, but she felt quite sure that the little girl was in tears.
    They were glad to be turning just then into the Wheeler driveway. Nobody knew what to say.
    Miss Crandall was waiting for Gaye at the garage. She lost no time in ordering her up to the house, and when Gaye, sullen and silent, had reluctantly gone, with the small poodle cavorting after her, her aunt turned to the girls.
    “We have decided that Gaye is quite recovered from her nervous attack, and she will be giving her recital a week from Saturday,” Miss Crandall said coldly. “So I must ask you to help avoid any more excitement for her. Please don’t think I am too severe, Honey. Your mother agrees with me; Gaye’s career is too important for her to take any chances with it.”
    “It wasn’t exciting at the marsh, Miss Crandall,” Trixie said quickly. “Miss Martin was sweet about the dress. And she likes Gaye. We had a nice visit.”
    “Nevertheless, she is not to go out there again for any reason,” Miss Crandall said with finality and went up to the house after Gaye.
    Trixie made a small grimace after her and told Honey, “It looks as if you won’t have the little prodigy on your hands to entertain the rest of this week!”
    “I’m almost sorry I won’t, now that we know her better,” Honey said sincerely. “Poor little thing!”
    And both Trixie and Di agreed with her.
     
    Mr. Belden came home a couple of hours later as Trixie was telling Mart and Brian about the visit to Miss Martin.
    “…so Miss Rachel practically threw old Trent out for saying mean things about her ancestors. That’s why he was so catty in this morning’s Sun about her ‘seeing ghosts,’ ” she finished. “He’s disgusting!”
    “I’m inclined to agree,” their father said, coming into the room with a grim look on his face.
    “Oh,” Trixie said weakly. “I bet everybody at the bank was laughing at what he said about me, weren’t they?”
    “Not at all,” her father assured her gravely. “Hardly anyone mentioned it. It’s Rachel Martin whom his story has hurt.”
    “ Hurt ?” Trixie was amazed.
    Her father nodded. “You see, that little hint of Trent’s that Miss Rachel thought Gaye was her sister’s ghost has convinced people that the last of the Martins has failed mentally because of her age and being allowed to live out there alone by the swamp for so long. There’s quite a lot of indignation that she’s been neglected all this time. The hint about her having her name used as publicity for Gaye has only made it worse.”
    “But that’s just Trent’s mean story! Can’t we make the Sun tell what really happened?” Trixie begged.
    “I’m afraid it’s a bit late to do anything,” her father said gently. “You see, dear, there seems to be something magical about printer’s ink. Once people read a story in a newspaper, most of them believe that story is true, even if it’s retracted.”
    “Bud Brown, whose dad is on the city council, told me the council had a special session about it today and decided to take steps to protect Miss Rachel Martin,” Brian told them. “I hadn’t gotten around yet to telling you abut it, Trix, but I meant to.”
    Trixie looked unhappy. “What do they mean by that?”
    “I don’t know,”