The Marshland Mystery

yawned a couple of times and then let her head fall against Brian’s arm. When it stayed there in spite of the bumpy road, Brian realized that the tired little girl was sound asleep.
    Even after they stopped at Miss Rachel’s gate, she slept on. Brian gathered her up in his arms and took her inside the cottage, the small poodle close behind.
    “Oh, the poor baby!” Miss Rachel whispered, seeing the drawn little face. “Put her down on the couch and let her have her sleep out.”
    Brian would have liked to stay awhile, but he knew he was needed at home, so after a few minutes and a handful of Miss Rachel’s raisin cookies, he left.
    A quarter of an hour later, a light rain was falling. Trixie stuck her nose out to look at the clouds and saw that they were much darker now and swirling across the sky. Gleeps! she thought. I hope they keep right on going and it clears up, or nobody’ll come to the sale.
    But instead of slackening, the sprinkle became a down-pour. Even Miss Rachel, who had been trying hard to pretend that she wasn’t worried, looked glum. Gaye slept on, with Mr. Poo across her feet.
    “Well, here we sit,” Di said after a while. “Isn’t there something we can still do?”
    “I’m afraid we’ve done everything,” Miss Rachel said with a sigh, “except getting together those packages of herbs I promised you girls for your botany class.”
    “Well, let’s do that!” Honey said briskly. “Where do we find them?”
    “Come along to the potting shed, and I’ll put you all to work,” Miss Rachel told them. “Here.” She reached into the linen drawer of the sideboard. “Aprons for all!” When the girls had put them on and tied the wide, starched strings into bows for each other, they tiptoed out and left Gaye sleeping quietly, Mr. Poo at her feet.
    In spite of the pouring rain outside, the girls had a good time for the next half hour, wrapping and labeling the Oswego tea leaves, the pennyroyal, and the other mints, like spearmint and horehound.
    It was Trixie who thought she heard Mr. Poo barking. The others were busy with the herbs, so she threw her sweater over her head and started out. “I think I’ll see how Gaye’s getting along,” she said hastily and dashed for the cottage. As she hurried along, she looked toward the front of the house, hopefully, for a car. But there was no car—only sheets of rain.
    And when she was inside the cottage and hurried to check on little Gaye, there was no sign of the child. The dog was gone, too, and the small leather suitcase that Gaye had jealously guarded.
     

Trixie’s Treasure ● 21
     
    TRIXIE RAN to the cottage door and flung it open. The small white gate was standing ajar. It was evident that Gaye had gone out that way. But which direction had she taken? Had she gone to the marsh or to the ruins?
    “I’ve got to find her,” Trixie told herself desperately. “That silly story about the miser’s gold could be why she’s gone—or it could be that old yarn about pirate loot in the swamp!” She felt sure now that Gaye hadn’t been sound asleep on the couch. She must have waited till they were out of the room and then stolen out with her little suitcase. “It probably was empty. She was fibbing about Mr. Poo’s lunch being in it! And now I’m sure she never even asked Miss Crandall if she could come with us. She must have sneaked away!”
    Trixie hurried out to the gate. The rain was coming down so hard now that there was no chance of seeing any footprints pressed into the muddy road.
    Then she heard the poodle barking. The sound was coming from the direction of the ruins of the old Martin mansion. Trixie started running as fast as she could against the driving rain and gusty wind.
    “I hope she hasn’t had time to go far,” she muttered uneasily, “but I guess not. I wouldn’t have heard Mr. Poo barking so clearly if they were very far away.”
    She hadn’t gone a hundred feet more before she saw the little dog running toward her, a soggy, small white bundle that barked excitedly and then stopped, turned, and seemed to be trying to urge her to follow him. “Okay, Mr. Poo, I’m coming!” she called and went after him as fast as she could. The poodle splashed his way ahead of her, only stopping a couple of times to see if she was still following.
    He led her around past the old mansion and to the rose garden. But there was no sign of Gaye. The mounds of earth that the intruders had piled up in their digging for