The Marshland Mystery

lovely things, lots of people would be interested.”
    “Oh!” Trixie’s blue eyes were round with excitement. “You could have an auction sale this fall, just before you have to move away! We Bob-Whites could help you by putting up posters and getting publicity for the sale, and Jim could be the auctioneer, because he’s been studying about old Colonial furniture like yours and can tell how much to take for it, and—” But she had run out of breath and had to pause to catch a new supply before she could go on.
    “We’ll have lots of time to get ready for it.” Honey took it up. “All summer! And I know the boys will be delighted to do all they can to help!”
    “That’s for sure!” Trixie nodded vigorously. “What do you say, Miss Rachel?”
    “I’m speechless, girls,” Miss Rachel said in a quavering voice, and she dabbed at her eyes with the daintiest of lace handkerchiefs. “I don’t know how to thank you for being so kind.” She hesitated a moment and then said, with sweet dignity, “It could make quite a difference if I had a few hundred dollars. I could rent a little place in town where I could display my quilts and rugs, and—” She was too choked up to continue.
    Both girls knew what she had left unsaid—that the thought of independence would make all the difference.
    “Well, you can depend on the B.W.G.’s to put it over. We’ll get the boys busy on ideas right away,” Trixie said, briskly businesslike to cover her sympathy. “And we’ll keep in touch with you and let you know what we’ve worked out. It’s going to be great fun for us.” She looked quickly at her watch. “Oops! We’re late, Miss Rachel. We have to go now.” She pulled Honey by the arm. “Come on, or we’ll be scalped by Regan for keeping the horses out so long!”
    A moment later, they were running gaily down the path to their horses. When they mounted and turned the patient animals homeward, they looked back to wave at Miss Rachel as she stood looking after them.
    She waved in return and then stood for a long time looking in the direction in which they were riding.
     
    The two girls were surprised to see Jim and Brian talking seriously in front of the little clubhouse.
    “They’re probably plotting not to help us with the horses tonight!” Trixie giggled. “Wait till they hear the plans we’ve made! They’ll be so thrilled that they’ll insist on grooming these two themselves, out of sheer gratitude!”
    But she was in for a shock. She and Honey hurried to the boys, fairly bubbling over with the report of their visit with Miss Rachel. But before they had finished telling their story, Jim stopped them.
    “Sorry, kids,” he said, “but Miss Rachel won’t be around any longer at the end of summer. She has to move out of the cottage by a week from Sunday.”
     

The Best-Laid Plans ● 19
     
    BUT WHY? Why does Miss Rachel have to move out of her cottage so soon?” Trixie asked, bewildered.
    “Because the work on the road is to start in a couple of weeks, and they’re closing off the road to the cottage a week from Monday,” Brian explained.
    “Oh, no!” Trixie and Honey said it at the same time and in the same shocked tone.
    “Oh, yes,” Jim contradicted grimly. “Brian’s friend Bud—you know, the one whose father’s on the council —Bud told Brian a few minutes ago that the council has changed its collective mind about waiting till fall to start cutting that road through the marsh. And apparently Miss Rachel herself is to blame!”
    “I don’t understand.” Trixie frowned.
    “It seems that your friend Miss Rachel Martin took a couple of shots at some young fellows who had stopped by her place and asked for a drink of water,” Brian explained. “It happened this afternoon. Lucky you missed it. Must have been before you got there.”
    “It wasn’t like that at all! They didn’t ask for a drink. They dug up her rose garden first and then came and trampled all her lovely flower garden and called her an old witch!” Trixie said hotly. “Didn’t they, Honey?” Honey nodded solemnly. “We came along right after it happened, and she was still trembly. And ,she shot over their heads with an old, old shotgun, to scare them away when they wanted to come into her house and look for her great-grandfather’s ‘hidden gold’ that Trent mentioned in the Sun!”
    “That wasn’t their story, and the council believed them. Now they’re sure she’s a menace to the