The Mystery in Arizona

over a hot stove.” She skidded to a stop beside a door which bore the nameplate: MISS JANE BROWN.
    “See you later,” she said and went inside.
    To her joy, the room was indeed no larger than the one which she shared with Honey. Furthermore, Calamity Jane had made her own bed.
    “Well, that was cooperative of her,” Trixie reflected as she dusted the table and bureau tops and ran the mop over the floor. “I think that I’m going to like Calamity, after all.”
    She was about to leave, feeling very smug about this chore which had turned out to be so easy, when it suddenly dawned on her that perhaps the bed had not been slept in. And almost immediately she decided that it was Jane Brown whom she had heard crying softly out on the patio the night before.
    “She probably cried herself to sleep out there,” Trixie said out loud, without realizing it.
    “I did, but how did you know?”
    Trixie whirled around to face the door. A young lady who was not much taller than Honey was standing there. “I’m Jane Brown,” she said. “Who are you?”
    “One of the new maids,” Trixie said cheerfully and explained. “I didn’t mean to pry into your private life,” she finished, “but I couldn’t help being grateful because your bed was made, and then all of a sudden I remembered that I’d heard someone crying out on the west patio last night. Was it you, Miss Brown?”
    The young woman started to shake her head from left to right, then nodded, half smiling. “It was silly of me to give way to tears, but I was—am so awfully disappointed in everything. But how much, much more disappointed you kids must be! You came out here for your vacation, too, but instead of having fun, you’re working.” She frowned. “Instead of being so cheerful, I should think you’d be crying your eyes out.”
    Trixie laughed. “If all of the guests are as neat as you are, the work won’t be hard. I’m used to doing harder chores every day at home. I have a kid brother whose room always looks as though a hurricane had hit it, and tidying it is one of my chores.”
    Jane Brown’s small smile became a wistful grin. “I guess that’s what makes the difference. I’m an orphan, you see. For the past ten years—ever since I got out of high school—I’ve been working as a stenographer in a big Chicago firm. I always dreamed about spending some time at an Arizona ranch during the winter months. So I saved and saved and saved, and now at last here I am.” She burst into tears and threw herself down on the bed. “But am I having any fun? No, no, no!”
    More than anything else in the world right then Trixie wished that Honey were in her shoes... Honey, who was so sympathetic and tactful that, without really thinking about it, she would be sure to say the right thing.
    “Oh, don’t cry,” Trixie pleaded helplessly. “Why aren’t you having a good time?”
    “Never mind,” Miss Brown wailed. “There’s nothing anybody can do. Just go away and leave me alone. Go away!”
    Trixie was only too glad to obey orders, but she left the room feeling guilty and bewildered. Honey would have found out what was making Miss Brown so unhappy and would have at least said something to help cheer her up.
    “Oh, why can’t I think of tactful things to say?” Trixie asked herself hopelessly. “And what is wrong with Miss Brown, anyway? How can she not have fun at such a marvelous place?”
    The unhappy guest was certainly another mystery.

Petey’s "Day-Mare” • 10

    AFTER LEAVING Miss Brown, Trixie hurried across the living room and outside to the path that led around and down to the cabins. With the exception of two which were called “family size,” all of the cabins on her list were tiny cottages, and she tidied them very quickly. The larger ones took longer, but at last she was through and started off around the pool toward the kitchen.
    As she approached Maria’s small cabin, she noticed that a little boy was playing out in front of it and guessed he must be Pedro, called Petey.
    “Hi,” she greeted him, suddenly feeling homesick for Bobby. “I’ve got a little brother who is just about the same age as you.”
    The dark-haired boy stared at her solemnly. “I’m in the first grade, but I didn’t go to school today ’cause I got sort of a sniffle.” He sniffled. “It isn’t the cold kind of sniffle, but Mommy is too dumb to know that. Does your brother ever get the crying kind of sniffle and get kept home from