The Mystery of the Antique Doll

irreplaceable, and if she should be broken, well...”
    “We’d be delighted to, Mr. Reid—I mean, Carl,” Honey said politely.
    “I’ll go inside and write down the address. I’ll also give you a note to deliver when you get there,” Mr. Reid said blandly. “I feel I can trust you to handle this.”
    “I’m glad we can help you,” Trixie said, somewhat flattered at his praise. Trixie watched as Mr. Reid went into the shop. She’d almost, but not quite, forgotten how grouchy he had been. She still thought it was odd that he hadn’t known the answers to any of their questions about the antique toys, but perhaps Honey was right. Maybe he didn’t know that much about the antique toys, although he certainly seemed awfully interested in this particular doll.
    Sometimes it was so hard to tell with grown-ups, she thought, heaving a great sigh. One minute they were grouchy, and the next minute they were as sweet as sugar.
    She turned to Honey as soon as Mr. Reid was inside the shop. “Do you really think it’ll be all right if we pick up this doll for him?” she whispered.
    “I don’t see why not,” Honey answered. “After all, it won’t take too much time to just stop off somewhere. Besides, we might get to see a really interesting French antique store.”
    “That’s true,” Trixie mused. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
    Carl Reid returned and handed a piece of paper and a sealed envelope to Honey.
    “This one is the address, and this is a short note,” he said. “Now just give the envelope to André when you see him, and he will give you the doll.”
    He cut his smile short, and turned as if to leave. But just as quickly he turned back. “It would be better if you didn’t take the doll out of the case,” he said. There was a weak smile on his lips and Trixie couldn’t explain the cold feeling she got in the pit of her stomach. “You see, she’s packed very carefully. If she isn’t put back in correctly, she’ll shake loose and break.”
    “We understand,” Honey said, trying to sound reassuring. “We’ll just bring her straight to you.”
    “Thank you,” Mr. Reid said, and with another brief look in their direction, he went into the shop.
    “He’s an odd bird,” Trixie said, after she and Honey had taken Willy back inside, and said good-bye to Mrs. De Keyser. They walked quickly along Glen Road.
    “Yes, he is a bit odd,” agreed Honey. “But lots of times people act strangely. Maybe he’s unhappy about something. Who knows?”
    “And, actually, who cares,” Trixie said. “I’ll worry about his problems after this weekend. Right now, I have too many exciting things on my mind.”
    The two girls walked home together, and then said good-night. Trixie spent the evening choosing and then discarding clothes to take on the trip. Soon she had a suitcase stuffed with clothes, but her room looked as if a cyclone had struck. Promising herself that she’d get up early the next morning and tidy up, Trixie fell into an exhausted sleep.

    The next day at school went by so slowly, Trixie was convinced that someone had poured molasses into all the clocks. But, finally, the school bus dropped Honey, Trixie, Mart, and Brian off at their stop. The boys immediately headed up the driveway, leaving Honey and Trixie at the mailbox.
    “Friday night is finally here,” Trixie said happily. “I thought I’d never get through the day!”
    “Me, too!” Honey said. “Let’s hurry and pick up your bag first. Then we’ll go to my house. Miss Trask says she has a special supper planned for us for tonight.”
    The girls ran up to the warm, delicious-smelling Belden house. Trixie, filled with glee, kissed everyone good-bye and collected her weekend case.
    “Now don’t forget to help out Jim and Brian,” she said to Mart.
    “I’ve never met anyone,” Mart said, with an admiring glance at his younger sister, “who had quite the facility that you have for getting out of chores! You’ve done it again. Every time I turn around, you have another new and exotic reason why I have to do the chores that you’ve signed up to do. You get all the credit, Miss Trixie Belden, and I get all the work!”
    “Oh, Mart,” Trixie said happily. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Don’t be jealous because I’m going to Paris.”
    “For your information, I am not jealous,” Mart said, turning his head away. “It just so happens that when I go to Europe, I plan to go by myself on a tramp steamer.