The Mystery in Arizona

perfectly happy if Maria left? It didn’t make sense. Trixie knew now that Mrs. Sherman was so kind-hearted that she couldn’t dislike anyone. So why did she want Maria to leave?
    Trixie, guessing that she must have spent a whole hour with Mrs. Sherman, hurried out to the first cabin on her list. She worked as fast as she could, but she knew she didn’t have a prayer of getting through before luncheon.
    As she made beds and dusted, she kept thinking, “The mystery of Rosita’s problems is solved, but the problems aren’t. There must be something somebody can do to help her so she can go back to school at the end of the holidays.”
    To get that close to a high-school diploma and then leave seemed dreadful to Trixie, who always lived in the fear she wouldn’t be promoted. Thinking about school reminded her of the assignments which were waiting for her, and she began to feel very sorry for herself.
    Another day without a ride! “I won’t eat lunch,” she decided. When she heard the bell chime, it seemed as though she had eaten that peanut butter sandwich days instead of hours ago. “But I’d rather die of starvation than miss the rodeo,” she told herself.
    It was one thirty when she finished the last of her chores and staggered wearily into the kitchen to help the girls with the luncheon dishes.
    “Where on earth have you been?” Honey asked, frowning. “When you didn’t show up for lunch at twelve thirty, we guessed you were studying, so I made you a batch of sandwiches and took them to our room. But you weren’t there, and, oh, Trixie, you hadn’t been studying. Where were you?”
    “I got stuck with Mrs. Sherman,” Trixie said, trying her best to sound cheerful. “Isn’t it great? She’s going to stay!”
    “Yes,” Honey agreed, “but it’s a shame that you got stuck with her. If you haven’t done your assignments by two thirty, the boys won’t let you go riding. Forget about these dishes, and hurry, hurry, hurry.” Trixie raced off, and, while munching the sandwiches Honey had left on the desk, she managed to write two pages on her theme. “That should satisfy Brian,” she told herself and started on the math problems.
    Honey appeared then and peered over her shoulder. “Oh, my goodness,” she wailed. “You haven’t even corrected the first one on the page, and we’re supposed to leave in about ten minutes. Jim will never let you go, so I’m not going, either. I don’t care if it is sort of cheating—I’m going to stay and help you with those problems so, at least, you can go to the rodeo.”
    “Don’t be silly,” Trixie said rather crossly. “I don’t feel much like riding, anyway, and if you’ll just stop bothering me, I’ll have these problems corrected before the rodeo.”
    “Well, all right, if you feel that way about it,” Honey said in a hurt tone of voice, and she quickly changed into riding clothes and departed.
    Trixie was sorry that she had spoken crossly to Honey, but she knew that was the only way to make her friend go off without her. And pretty soon she began to wish that she had accepted Honey’s offer of help. The first problem was easy, and she quickly found the mistake she had made in the second one. But the third was baffling; it made no sense. Finally, in desperation, she skipped it and corrected the others. When she went back to problem three it was just as baffling.
    Trixie began to pace the floor of the tiny room. Now it did indeed seem to be a prison cell. Finally she took her workbook and went out through the window to the patio.
    “I’ve just got to figure out how many gallons of gas that silly old farmer used,” she muttered to herself. “If only he’d lived in the days of horses and mules instead of the gasoline age!”
    “What seems to be the trouble?”
    Trixie jumped and whirled around. She had been muttering so loudly that she hadn’t heard Tenny come out of the dining room. He was grinning broadly.
    “What’s all this about hosses and mules?”
    Trixie could no longer control her pent-up feelings. “Oh, stop it,” she stormed. “I know you’re not a real cowboy, Mr. Stetson. I don’t know why you’re masquerading as one, but you’re wasting all of that lingo on me. I’ll bet you’re a college graduate.”
    He howled with laughter. “Wal, now, I’ll be hog-tied. You’re a right smart little filly, you are. How did you guess?”
    “I heard you talking perfect English to Rosita,” Trixie said, grinning herself