The Mystery at Maypenny's

this area. The days of the small family farm are gone. So, for the most part, are the days of the small storekeeper. With the prices of land and equipment rising every year, they can’t compete with the larger operations.”
    “What about Mr. Lytell?” Trixie demanded. “His little store seems to do all right.” The tiny, old-fashioned store along Glen Road was a frequent stop for the Bob-Whites, in spite of the fact that the store’s owner was not always friendly to the young people.
    Mr. Belden shook his head. “Think about what you buy at Mr. Lytell’s, Trixie. Your mother sends you for a loaf of bread or a carton of milk, or you stop in for a can of soda when you’re out riding. That isn’t much, compared to the amount we spend at the supermarket in Sleepyside, where we do most of our shopping.
    “The fact is, Mr. Lytell could do twice as well by selling his store and going to work as the manager of a larger store in town.”
    “Then why doesn’t he?” Trixie asked.
    “He simply doesn’t want to. To Mr. Lytell, money isn’t as important as being his own boss and living in the area where he grew up. That’s the choice he’s made.”
    “Not many people would make that choice,” Brian observed.
    “Someone with a growing family to support would be almost sure to choose the higher salary,” Mr. Belden agreed. “Then the choice is a long commute to work or moving the entire family out of Sleepyside.”
    “Aren’t there any jobs in Sleepyside?” Trixie asked.
    “There are a few,” her father replied. “But most of the jobs in a small town are in what are called service occupations, like banking or teaching. They depend on serving people in manufacturing or farming occupations. In this area, which has never had much manufacturing and is seeing less and less farming, the number of jobs in service occupations is declining, too.
    “That’s why a factory like International Pine is a twofold blessing in an area like Sleepyside. They employ people directly in their factory. And, because their workers need groceries and haircuts and savings accounts and so forth, they create jobs indirectly, too.”
    “Matt Wheeler knows that,” Brian told Trixie. “That’s why he considered selling some of the preserve for the factory expansion.”
    “It sounds as though Jim was right,” Trixie said. “If Mr. Maypenny had waited to hear Mr. Wheeler’s explanation, he would have gone along with the plan to sell the land.”
    “I’m afraid not, Trixie,” Mrs. Belden said. “There are some people to whom saving the land is the most important consideration of all. They would say that people who want high-paying jobs have to pay the price by moving to the city.“
    “I can see how Mr. Maypenny would feel that way,” Trixie said. “He’s been living off the land all his life.”
    “It isn’t just Mr. Maypenny who feels that way,” her mother told her. “I had a visitor this morning who opposes the expansion just as strongly as Mr. Maypenny does.”
    “The man in the green car!” Trixie exclaimed. “I’ve been wondering about him since this morning. Who was he? What did he want?”
    Mrs. Belden smiled. “I should have known my eagle-eyed daughter would have spotted the car. The young man’s name was John Score. He represents a group called CAUSE—Citizens Alarmed and United to Save the Ecology. His group has heard about the proposed expansion, and they’re trying to stop it.”
    “Stop it?” Trixie echoed. “How can they do that? If International Pine finds someone who’s willing to sell them the land, then they can build on it, can’t they?”
    “Not necessarily,” Mr. Belden said. “For one thing, there are zoning regulations that restrict the ways in which land can be used. Some places are zoned only for private homes, for example. Others are zoned only for farming.
    “And even if International Pine finds a piece of land that is properly zoned for their uses, there’s still the matter of public opinion. That’s where a group like CAUSE comes in.”
    “John Score is trying to get people around here to sign a petition against the expansion,” Mrs. Belden said. “If he can get enough signatures, it will prove that people don’t want the factory to expand. That would make it very hard for someone to sell to the company—if they want their neighbors to keep speaking to them.”
    “Oh, woe,” Trixie moaned, covering her face with her hands. “When you said there was an