The Marshland Mystery

it.
    They gathered around hopefully as Miss Rachel, as excited as anyone, took out the letters and glanced at them. “A Chinese stamp,” she said, puzzled, and undid the knot in the silk cord.
    They all held their breath as she scanned the single page of the first letter. “Why, it’s only a letter from my great-grandfather Ezarach to his bride, Molly. He says he’s sending her a gift of great price on their first wedding anniversary—” She read for a moment in silence, with a tender smile, and then again became conscious of the ring of young faces. “He says he has seen many strange things but never anything like this, and he hopes it will guard her safely till his return.” She read a little more in silence, then, “And he closes, hoping that the scent of the sandalwood will remind her of the incense of their wedding day.” She sighed.
    “Probably a bottle of myrrh, whatever that is,” Di said dreamily. “Why don’t people write romantic things like that nowadays?”
    “Wonder what he meant by guarding her,” Trixie said. “Hey!” She brightened. “I bet it was a pistol all inlaid with pearl, or a sword with a golden hilt. Wonder what became of it!”
    “I’m afraid that’s something we will never know now,” Miss Rachel said with a little sigh. “This letter must be close to a hundred years old.”
    “Gleeps!” Trixie said and then lapsed into gloom. “We’d better leave pretty soon,” Brian reminded them. “Tomorrow’s going to start awfully early and last a long time.”
    “Before you go,” Miss Rachel told them, “I want you to know that no matter how the sale turns out tomorrow, I’ll never forget the kindness of all of you.”
    “That’s okay,” Brian said hastily, his dark cheeks blushing with embarrassment. “Come on, squaws. You going to hang around all night?”
    Brian hustled them out to the car without ceremony, but when they were safely in, Mart still hadn’t come out of the cottage. “Mart!” he yelled and honked.
    A moment later, Mart came scurrying out, carrying a newspaper-wrapped bundle under his arm.
    “What’s that?” Brian asked crossly.
    “Could be a bread box, but it isn’t,” Mart answered saucily, making the girls giggle. “And I don’t want any of you trying to peek at it. Get me?”
    “Oh, who wants to?” Trixie retorted, but under her flippancy, she was excited. She felt sure she could guess what was in that package, and she meant to find out as soon as Mart had hidden it. She knew most of his hiding spots, though he had never suspected it.
    Miss Martin had asked her several times to pick out a gift for herself among the antique furnishings of the cottage, but Trixie had insisted that she didn’t want a thing. Only Honey could have guessed what Trixie really wanted, or maybe Mart himself, after their little exchange tonight.
    She felt sure it was to be a birthday gift. Her fourteenth birthday was only a week away now, but she couldn’t wait. She had to see her box again tonight.
    “What do you suppose is in that package?” Honey asked in a whisper.
    “Goodness!” Trixie pretended to cover a yawn. “How can I guess what silly secret my little twin might have?”
    She said it loudly enough for Mart to hear, but all she got from him in answer was a dry “Don’t you wish you could?” which made Honey and Di both giggle and also made Trixie sure she had guessed right.
    “Why don’t you try three guesses?” Mart gibed.
    But Trixie was too happy to bother to answer. At the moment, she was trying to decide just where she would keep the dragon box in her room. Somewhere up high, out of Bobby’s reach till he grew older, of course.
    Brian stopped the car on the sloping driveway and left it pointed down toward the road so they could roll down to start the motor instead of making a racket with the ancient starter. They would be leaving early.
    Mart got out and took the mysterious package into the house with him. Trixie followed him in, wishing she could say, “Let me carry my dragon box.” But that would spoil the surprise, so she didn’t say it.
    Their parents were still up and waiting to hear how things were going out at the Martin cottage.
    Mart put down his package and poured himself a glass of milk at the refrigerator. “Everything’s great, except Jim can’t be there,” he said. “But he’s given Trix and Honey and Miss Rachel herself a list of prices to ask, so they don’t really need an auctioneer. Of course, I