The Mysterious Visitor

them, hurried out of the garage so he could drive into it. Trixie noticed with a sinking heart that she had left her father barely enough room, and that a less skillful driver would not have been able to park without grazing at least one of the piles of junk.
    Mr. Belden didn’t look any too pleased as he climbed out of the Ford roadster. "I’m glad to see that there’s been some sprucing up," he said. "But a lot of that stuff has to go. This place is still a disgrace and a dangerous violation of the fire laws."
    "We tried to get rid of some of it," Trixie explained. "But, actually, it’s all pretty valuable, Dad. There wasn’t much that we could throw out."
    "I holped," Bobby cried proudly.
    "I’ll bet you did." Mr. Belden kissed his wife and lifted the plump little boy up to his shoulders.
    "Trixie," he said, giving her an affectionate pat, "I don’t want to pry into your secrets, but I haven’t been able to miss the fact that the boys are building some sort of a shack on the Wheeler property. If you want to keep all of that junk, I’m afraid I’ll have to order you and your brothers to keep some of it in your shack."
    "All right, Dad," Trixie said meekly. "I’ll tell Mart and Brian about it tonight, and we can move the things sometime soon."
    "And," Mrs. Belden put in, "since they’re dining at the Wheelers’ this evening, don’t you agree with me, Peter, that Trixie ought to come home first and change into a dress? I’m sure Jim and Honey don’t come to the dinner table looking as though they had just cleaned a garage."
    "I’m sure they don’t," Mr. Belden agreed, laughing.
    "But, Dad," Trixie wailed, "there won’t be time between now and dinner. They’re having it early so the cook and Celia can go to the early movie. And the horses have just got to be exercised today or Regan will certainly get mad at us."
    "That’s true," Mr. Belden said thoughtfully. "Regan is awfully good to you kids, and you should be good to him. Don’t let him down."
    "I could take a shower in Honey’s bathroom," Trixie suggested hopefully, "and I could borrow
    one of her dresses. Would that be all right?" Mrs. Belden sighed. "I guess that will be all right. But it seems to me that you are forever deciding at the last minute to spend the night with Honey and so end up borrowing her clothes." Trixie grinned with relief. "Honey doesn’t mind. She has drawers and closets full of them." She raced off along the path that led up to the Manor House. When she arrived at the stable, she found that all five of the horses were saddled and bridled, but Jim and Honey were having some sort of an argument.
    "Please, Jim," Honey was saying. "I’d really rather stay home. Miss Trask may have some things she would like me to do before dinner—" Then it dawned on Trixie that if Di was going to ride, one of the Bob-Whites would have to drop out. And it was just like Jim and Honey to fight about which one that would be.
    "I don’t feel much like riding," she cried impulsively. "I’m half-dead from cleaning out the garage. You ride Susie, Di."
    Diana shook her head. "I don’t know how to ride. All of you please go. I don’t mind being left behind. Besides, I would like to be here when my suitcase comes, so that—"
    As she hesitated, flushing, Honey said quickly, "I don’t want to ride, either. Lady doesn’t need any exercise. Mother rode her this morning."
    "Dad rode Jupe before breakfast, too," Jim added.
    Regan, the pleasant-faced groom, came out of the tack room just then. "Well," he said, "the other horses do need exercise. So you Beldens had better get going before it gets so dark even the horses won’t be able to see."
    Trixie and her brothers quickly obeyed. Regan was usually very easygoing, but when he spoke in that tone of voice, he meant business. They trotted off single file along the narrow path that led into the woods. Trixie, who was leading, said over one shoulder, "Dad knows about the clubhouse. He calls it a shack, and I don’t think he knows where it is, but we’ve got to move a lot of our stuff that’s cluttering up the garage into it. The garage just won’t hold it all anymore."
    "Oh, no," Mart moaned. "Why, just your junk alone, Trix, would take up so much room we couldn’t hold a meeting."
    "Is that so?" Trixie demanded. "What about your pup tent and those rusty old traps?"
    "I use that pup tent every summer, and those traps are just as good as they ever were. If anything has to go it ought to be