The Mystery at Saratoga

the early Dutch settlers, like the ones old Brom told us.”
    Trixie nodded. “I have no trouble remembering old Brom’s stories. Some of the scarier ones can keep me awake at night even now, if I happen to think of them when I’m lying in bed. He makes history seem so—well, personal, I guess. What else do you know about the history of Saratoga?”
    The girls began to walk again as Honey organized her thoughts. “Let’s see,” she said slowly. “Well, the name of the town comes from an Iroquois Indian word that means ‘place of the swift water.’ It was the swift water—the natural mineral springs—that first turned Saratoga into a resort town. People discovered the springs even before the Revolutionary War, and they thought that bathing in the water or drinking it could cure just about any disease or ailment. Even George Washington once came here for ‘the baths,’ as they were called.”
    Trixie giggled. “Almost every town in the East has a hotel or a home that has a sign: WASHINGTON slept here. But only Saratoga can say, Washington bathed here!”
    Honey nodded, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “Every time I think about George Washington coming here for the baths, I picture him as he looks on the dollar bill, with his white-powdered wig and that stern look—only he’s wearing modern-style bathing trunks like the ones Jim and Mart and Brian wear when we go for a swim. Isn’t that an awful way to picture the father of our country?”
    Trixie was laughing so hard that she had to lean against the building they’d been walking past. She wrapped her arms around her body, holding her stomach. Some of the people walking by cast worried looks in her direction, then smiled to themselves as they realized that amusement, not illness, was the reason for her unusual posture. Honey was laughing, too, although her self-consciousness kept her from becoming as carried away as her sandy-haired friend.
    Gradually Trixie regained her composure, although an occasional giggle would escape as the image of George Washington in swimming trunks again flashed through her mind.
    “Oh, Honey,” she gasped, “I don’t know if I dare ask you any more questions about Saratoga. I don’t think I could stand to laugh that hard again!”
    The girls walked on, looking at the old and new buildings standing side by side and at the bustling crowds of people on the sidewalks and the long lines of traffic on the street.
    “We should be playing the license-plate game,” Trixie observed. “I’ve seen cars from almost every state in the East, and from many states in the Midwest and even from the West Coast.”
    Honey nodded. “August is the big month at Saratoga, because of the races. It’s hard to believe, but for most of the year, Saratoga is a quiet little town not much bigger than Sleepyside. Then, during August, the population doubles and the excitement begins.”
    Trixie whistled. “I can’t imagine what would happen if Sleepyside doubled in size practically overnight.”
    “Saratoga has been a resort town for a long, long time,” Honey reminded her. “The people here know how to handle the crowds. In fact, the town depends on them. It was a man named Gideon Putnam who started the whole thing, really. He figured out what a great attraction the mineral baths could be, so he built a hotel here and started advertising all the cures that he thought were possible from bathing in the waters, and people started coming up from New York City.
    “But if you think all the cars that are here from all over the country are impressive, Trixie, imagine what Saratoga was like during the eighteen hundreds,” Honey continued. “From what Daddy has told me, it seems that everyone who was rich and famous stayed here. Napoleon Bonaparte’s brother came all the way from France to visit Saratoga!
    “Back then, people really did come here as much to be seen as to see the sights. Every afternoon at three o’clock, people dressed in their fanciest clothes and went for a carriage ride down Broadway, here, or out along Union Avenue to Saratoga Lake.”
    Trixie closed her eyes, trying to imagine the scene. “It’s fun to imagine, Honey,” she said, “but I’m glad I wasn’t here. All that dressing up—ugh!”
    Honey smiled. “Even I would have been uncomfortable in those parades. There really was a lot of competition to see who could make the biggest splash. It wasn’t just the clothes, either. Everyone tried to outdo everyone