The Mystery of the Antique Doll

first.”
    Suddenly, they heard a cry of dismay from downstairs. They quickly ran to the top of the stairs, and saw Mrs. De Keyser standing at the open front door, calling frantically.
    “Willy! Willy, you naughty dog!” Her voice was shrill with worry. “Willy, you come back here this instant!”
    “We’ll bring him back,” Trixie called down, figuring out what had happened.
    “Oh, I feel so careless for letting him out like that,” Mrs. De Keyser moaned. “I just opened the door for a second to put that basket of gourds on the porch. Before I knew it, that dog just dashed out between my feet.”
    “Don’t worry,” Honey said comfortingly. “We’ll bring him back.”
    “I’m afraid that he’ll run into the road,” Mrs. De Keyser said. “He doesn’t know how to cross the street the way some dogs do. I’m so afraid he’ll be hit by a car.”
    Trixie and Honey put on their jackets and ran out in search of Willy. They searched all of Mrs. De Keyser’s property. They even went into the woods and across the road, calling as they walked. But Willy was nowhere to be found.
    Disconsolately, they trudged back to the house, crossing behind the antique shop as they went.
    “Look at that,” Trixie said, glancing at the back of the shop. “The bottom half of the Dutch door is open about a foot. That’s odd.”
    “It is,” Honey agreed. “Mr. Reid doesn’t seem like the sort who would leave a door open like that.”
    “That’s for sure,” Trixie said, with a rueful smile. “If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even leave the doors unlocked. A customer might come and try to ask him a question, or buy something—heaven forbid!”
    “Maybe Willy’s inside the shop,” Honey said hopefully. She went over and called his name as loudly as she could. Then she called in a softer, more wheedling tone of voice. But no one answered, least of all Willy.
    “Oh well,” sighed Trixie. “I guess we’d better go back and tell Mrs. De Keyser the bad news.”
    They called a few more times, then walked back to the house, feeling completely useless. Each dreaded telling Mrs. De Keyser. But she took it fairly well.
    “He’s done this before,” she said. “I suppose it’s partly because he never gets to run by himself. I should probably have a fence built around the property. That way he could go outside on his own. But it’s just too expensive to even consider.”
    “Would you like us to look some more?” Trixie asked helpfully.
    “No,” sighed Mrs. De Keyser. “It’ll be getting dark soon, and Willy will probably come home then. Perhaps you could just tie up those newspapers and magazines for me.” Trixie and Honey tied up the papers in neat bundles, carried them outside, and stacked them by the garbage cans.
    “It’s a good thing it gets dark so early these days,” Trixie said as the light rapidly faded. “Otherwise, Willy wouldn’t have any excuse to come home for hours.”
    No sooner were the words out of her mouth, when she heard a triumphant yip from the road. Then a cold, wet nose bumped against her leg.
    “Willy!” Trixie cried happily. She brushed her hand across his wiry coat. “Oh, Willy, you’re all covered with burrs! What have you been up to, you rascally pooch?”
    Willy ran ahead of them when they opened the front door, and headed straight for his bed by the fireplace. He didn’t look at all ashamed when Mrs. De Keyser scolded him, but when he saw the dog brush he looked truly crestfallen.
    “He hates being brushed,” Mrs. De Keyser said. “But perhaps this will teach him not to go running off again. Now hold still, Willy.”
    But Willy was having no part of her attempts at grooming. Because of her broken arm, Mrs. De Keyser finally had to ask Trixie and Honey to do it for her. After a good half-hour’s work, Willy was finally presentable.
    The girls walked home as quickly as they could.
    “See you tomorrow,” Honey said, as she left Trixie to walk up the driveway to the Manor House.
    “Don’t work too hard on that English paper,” Trixie called. Then she started off toward Crabapple Farm. As she walked, she thought about the math test scheduled for tomorrow. She wondered whether there was any point in studying, since she hadn’t understood a single word of today’s lesson. Geometry was not one of her best subjects. She could hear the sound of Bobby’s happy laughter coming from the house. She opened the door and went inside.
    “Trixie!” called Bobby. “Come