The Mystery in Arizona

blue eyes which usually twinkled merrily.
    But now, although he greeted them cordially, Trixie sensed that he was worried about something. His eyes were frowning in spite of the broad grin on his weather-beaten face, and right away he drew Mr. Lynch and Di off to a far comer of the waiting room.
    While the boys were collecting the luggage, Trixie whispered to Honey, “Did you notice how worried Mr. Wilson seems? I’ll bet he wishes we hadn’t come now.”
    Honey nodded. “I wonder what could have happened. He certainly wanted us very much when he telephoned Mrs. Lynch on Friday morning. What happened during the weekend to change his mind?”
    “I have no idea,” Trixie moaned. “Oh, look at Di.
    She’s on the verge of tears.”
    “So am I,” Honey admitted. “Oh, Trixie! I have a feeling that we’re going to be sent back home on the next plane!”

Trixie Solves a Problem • 5

    DI’SHUGE VIOLET EYES were filled with tears as she and her uncle and father came slowly across the waiting room to join the others.
    “Under the circumstances,” Trixie heard Mr. Lynch say, “I am forced to agree with you. I’ll make arrangements right now so that the kids can be flown back home tomorrow morning.”
    “It’s a shame,” Mr. Wilson said sorrowfully. “I wouldn’t have had it happen for the world.”
    The boys stared at him in speechless amazement. “But I don’t understand, sir,” Jim finally got out.
    “I’ll explain while we drive out to the ranch,” Di’s uncle said.
    Dismally they followed him out of the terminal and over to the parking lot. As she climbed into the station wagon, Trixie said to herself fiercely in order to keep back the tears of disappointment, “I don’t care. I’d much rather spend Chistmas at home, anyway. I don’t care. I don’t care!”
    But she did care, and so did all of the others. Even Mart, who usually said something funny in moments like this, was wearing a subdued and puzzled expression on his freckled face. They all stared un-seeingly out of the windows as they passed slowly through the city.
    “What a sunset!” Mr. Lynch murmured. “Glorious, isn’t it? Did you ever see such flaming colors?” Honey, always polite no matter how awful things were, said, “All of the colors in the rainbow. You never see anything like this back home—not in winter, anyway.” Her voice dwindled away, and at last Mr. Wilson began to speak.
    “I’m just sick about it,” he began, “but there’s nothing I can do. The servant problem is always acute at this time of year when all of the guest ranches are packed and jammed. Reservations are made months in advance, you know, and a great many ranch owners hire extra help for the Christmas season. So I haven’t a prayer of getting anyone who might take the Orlandos’ place, nor is there the slightest chance that I could farm you kids out at another ranch until the emergency is over.”
    “I still don’t understand, sir,” Jim said. “Who are the Orlandos and why—”
    “Oh, Jim,” Di broke in tearfully, “I don’t quite understand it myself, and neither does Uncle Monty. The Orlandos are a Mexican family who work for him. Suddenly last night, without any warning, they went away. So now he has a houseful of guests but no help except the cook, who can’t do everything, especially since she has a little boy about Bobby’s age.”
    “That’s right,” Mr. Wilson said dolefully. “The senora is my housekeeper; her husband, Señor Orlando, is my majordomo. Their sons and daughters serve as waiters, waitresses, and maids. Their daughter-in-law, Maria, is my cook, and why she didn’t depart with the others I’ll never know. I am very grateful that she stayed on, but, of course, in a household as large as mine, not to mention the guest cabins, she can’t be expected to do anything except cook. She really can’t even do that without some help. Who is going to prepare the vegetables, wash the dishes and pots and pans?”
    He sighed. “I can do the marketing myself and have the laundry sent out, but where am I going to find someone who will cope with the other household chores? Who is going to wait on the tables, tidy the ranch house and the cabins? I could probably find someone who would come out once a week and do the heavy cleaning, but the beds have to be made daily, the furniture must be dusted...His words ended in a groan of despair.
    “It's really a very serious problem,” Mr. Lynch put in. “You kids are