The Mystery in Arizona

twin.”
    But later that evening, as they were leaving the school after the ceremony, Tenny stopped at the entrance to speak to one of the teachers. Trixie had been so absorbed by the colorful religious pageant that she lagged dreamily behind the others. Then all of a sudden she became very wide-awake as she heard Tenny say, “It’s working out splendidly, thank you.”
    “Good,” the other man replied. “In another year we’ll be calling you Dr. Stetson.”
    Now there could be no doubt about it. Tenny was masquerading as a cowboy. But why?

Lady Astorbilt • 14

    TRIXIE DECIDED to keep her suspicions of Tenny to herself. Nobody, not even Honey, would believe her, and the boys would either make fun of her, saying she was imagining voices, or scold her for not minding her own business.
    As they dressed the next morning, Honey said, “I wouldn’t have missed La Posada for anything. Didn’t those little Mexican children look darling dressed up as Mary and Joseph and the pilgrims in the procession? And while they were chanting the ancient litany, I got a great big lump in my throat. ‘Open the door,’ ” she quoted, “ ‘that the Queen of Heaven may enter.’ ”
    Trixie nodded. “I liked the piñata part best. I was yelling as loudly as the kids when that little blind-folded girl finally broke the olla. I’m glad it was a girl, not a boy. Boys always think they’re smarter than girls, but they’re not.”
    Honey laughed. "You hate boys right now because Jim and Brian are tutoring you. But, seriously, Trix— you don’t want to miss the rodeo this afternoon or the square dance tonight. Please study like anything after lunch.”
    Di joined them then, and they went out to the kitchen for breakfast. The boys had already set the tables and were now watching Maria make tortillas.
    “It has to be hand-ground cornmeal,” she said, after greeting the girls. “And the water must be boiling and salted. Now the dough is ready. Each of you take a piece and pat it between your palms like this until it becomes a thin sheet.”
    Clumsily the boys began to imitate Maria’s skilled movements. Trixie went off into gales of laughter.
    “ ‘Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man; bake me a cake as fast as you can,’ ” she hooted. “I’ll take toast, thank you.”
    Maria deftly slapped the piece of dough down on the hot griddle. Then she turned it to brown the other side.
    “One does not become an expert all of a sudden,” she told Trixie. “But, fortunately for me, the boys learn very quickly.”
    “I don’t see why you don’t give us cooking lessons,” Honey complained. “Mexican Customs is the topic of my theme, so I ought to know a little something about Mexican cooking.”
    Maria smiled at her gravely. “Perhaps later. There is not time now.”
    The boys’ tortillas were now browned on both sides, and they sat down at the table to eat them with melted butter and maple syrup. “Dee-licious,” said Mart. “Better slap yourself up a couple, Trix.”
    Trixie calmly finished her toasted peanut butter sandwich and drained her glass of milk. “I have no time for such foolishness,” she said. “I have to beard an ogress in her den.”
    “How charming,” said Mart, with his mouth full. “I assume that you are about to put to rights the cell of Mrs. Astorbilt Sherman?”
    “You assume correctly,” replied Trixie. “She never stays in the dining room long for breakfast, but if she gets a glimpse of a tortilla made by one of you boys, she’ll bolt back to her room like a frightened jack-rabbit.”
    “But, Trixie,” Di protested, “it’s only seven o’clock. You can’t go near her room for another hour.”
    “I know,” Trixie replied. “I’m going to do some work on my theme before eight. This is one day when I am going riding with the first group. On account of the rodeo, there won’t be any second group. I am also not going to miss the rodeo.” She turned to Jim. “What form of torture have you cooked up for me today?”
    “The usual,” he said cheerfully. “Weights and measures, fractions and decimals. There are ten problems on page twenty-six of your workbook.”
    “I did those in school last month,” Trixie told him with a sniff.
    “That’s right,” Jim said with a mischievous grin. “The idea now is for you to do them correctly. Someday you’re going to find it convenient to know that there are more than two pints in a gallon.”
    “You’re wasting your breath on