The Mystery in Arizona

let me!”
    It was Mr. Wellington, who heaved himself out of his deck chair as he pleaded, “Let me. Let me.”
    Trixie was so surprised that she almost did a backflip into the pool. “Loco” was the only word she could think of to describe the behavior of the three difficult guests.
    “I’d like Juan’s job,” Mr. Wellington puffed as he hurried toward Uncle Monty. “I’m used to serving soft drinks to a crowd. Got three teen-age kids whose friends practically lived at our house... until they got TV sets of their own. I can make the best lemonade you ever tasted.”
    Uncle Monty shook his head as though he were trying to overcome an attack of dizziness. “But surely, sir, you aren’t applying for a job?”
    “Why not?” Mr. Wellington demanded. “If your niece’s young friends can work some during their vacation, why shouldn’t I?” He chuckled. “I’m too fat to squeeze into any of the boys’ costumes, but maybe that outfit Senor Orlando wore would fit. He had a sort of Santa Claus figure like mine.”
    Still shaking his head in bewilderment, Uncle Monty held out his hand. “It’s too good to be true, of course, but if you really mean it, sir—”
    “Of course he means it,” Jane Brown interrupted suddenly. “He’s probably just as bored as I am. I came out here to have fun. For years and years I saved a little out of my salary just so I could spend two weeks at an Arizona dude ranch and be dressed properly. But I’m not dressed properly. I look silly in these clothes, and I feel silly in them. And I don’t know how to have fun.” She clenched her small, thin hands into fists. “If you give Mr. Wellington a job, you’ve got to give me one, too. Otherwise, I’ll pack up and leave at once.”
    Uncle Monty, his mouth wide open with surprise, was obviously speechless. Trixie said quickly, “Oh, Miss Brown, I’m so glad you want to help out. We kids want to go to La Posada this evening, but we can’t go without a chaperon. Will you go? Please!” Calamity’s mousy-brown eyes were wide. “Of course I’ll go if you want me. I’ve never been wanted by anyone since my parents died when I wasn’t much older than you, Trixie.” And then she, too, as though ashamed of revealing so much of her life to strangers, flushed. She looked very pretty, Trixie thought, as she turned to Uncle Monty and said, “Anyway, I do want a job. I’m a very good secretary. I should be. I started out, with the same firm I’m with now, as a stenographer when I got out of high school about ten years ago. Couldn’t I help with the business management end of the ranch?”
    “You certainly could,” Uncle Monty replied enthusiastically. “I’ve had to let a lot of things go since Senor Orlando left. But, Miss Brown, are you sure—”
    “Positive,” she interrupted.
    Mrs. Sherman stood up. “I never heard of such foolishness in all my life. Just because a few boys and girls decide to work during their vacation is no reason why all of the guests should follow suit.
    Frankly, Mr. Wilson, your home should not be called a ranch house. It’s a madhouse. I am packing up and leaving at once!” She turned and stalked away.
    “Good riddance,” said Trixie to Uncle Monty. “Now there won’t be any guests here tonight for dinner, so you and Rosita can go to La Posada with the rest of us.”
    “No, no, Trixie; you don’t understand,” he replied worriedly. “I can’t let Mrs. Sherman leave. I don’t mind refunding her money, but it would be very bad for the reputation of my dude ranch. I’ll have to do something to make her happy—but what?” He waved his hands expressively. “It seems to me that I have provided my guests with every form of amusement: tennis, golf, squash, swimming, riding. Once a week the cowboys put on an informal rodeo which is followed in the evening by square dancing. Besides all that, there are sight-seeing tours, bridge tournaments, and—” He interrupted himself with a hopeless sigh. “Never before have I had a dissatisfied guest. It’s very upsetting.” He hurried off toward the house.
    “Oh, my goodness!” Jane Brown said shamefacedly. “How selfish I’ve been! When I refused to enter into any of the activities, I never thought about Mr. Wilson. What a disappointing guest I tinned out to be!” She added to herself, “I could have at least tried some of the games they offered to teach me.”
    “Well, cheer up,” said Mr. Wellington jovially. “I’m a duffer