The Mystery of the Antique Doll

Honey as she trudged up the driveway. “Maybe I’ll think of something.”
    “Right,” Trixie muttered. But she’d been racking her brains on the bus, and hadn’t been able to think of a single thing.
    She couldn’t even figure out why Mr. Reid was so quick to accuse them of such a terrible crime. That pass—which must have dropped from her pocket—wasn’t proof. She had been to his shop a number of times, and furthermore she was at Mrs. De Keyser’s house every other day. Why, that pass could have fallen from her pocket on Mrs. De Keyser’s property and been blown by the wind across the hedge!
    Stealing? The very idea of it upset her. Why, she wouldn’t even borrow a dime from someone without paying it back!



9 * The Clue in the Dress

    TRIXIE FELT terribly depressed, and at dinner she could barely push the food around on her plate, much less eat any of it. Worried, Helen Belden finally asked her if she was feeling all right.
    “I’ve never seen you look like this, Trixie,” she said, resting her hand lightly on the worried girl’s forehead. “Are you sick?” Trixie broke down and burst into tears. “Oh, Moms,” she sobbed. “The most terrible thing has happened.”
    The whole story came pouring out as the shocked Belden family listened in silence.
    “Listen, Trixie,” Brian finally interrupted. “You mustn’t cry so hard. You know very well that no one would ever believe that you and Honey had stolen an antique doll.”
    “Oh, Brian,” Trixie said, as the tears poured down her face. “But what if this time they do?”
    “Now Trixie,” Mr. Belden said reassuringly. “What Brian says is true. And I want you to calm down. Stop worrying for a minute or two. Perhaps you can remember something that would help Mr. Reid find his antique doll. Perhaps Mrs. De Keyser can be of some help, too. She might have noticed something peculiar.”
    All this time, as the entire Belden family was trying to calm Trixie, Bobby Belden had been sitting silently in his chair, looking glummer and glummer. While Trixie described how Mr. Reid had threatened to have the two of them locked up, Bobby slid so far down in his chair that only the top of his curly mop of hair could be seen. And finally, when he could bear it no longer, great gulping sobs were heard coming from the vicinity of his seat. But Bobby wasn’t in it.
    “Bobby!” Trixie said, when she heard the sobs. “What’s the matter, honey? Where are you anyway?”
    Bobby was finally located under the table. “He probably got scared when he heard you were going to jail,” Mart teased. But this remark only made Bobby cry harder.
    After a great deal of coaxing, he was finally convinced to explain what was bothering him.
    “Oh, Trixie,” he sobbed, burying his head in her lap. “I don’t want to go to jail! Please don’t let them send me, Trixie. I didn’t mean it, honest!”
    “Didn’t mean what, Bobby?” Trixie asked, completely confused.
    The muffled sobs continued from her lap. “I didn’t take the doll at all, even though it’s in my room.”
    Trixie lifted the tear-streaked little face, and looked into Bobby’s eyes. “The doll is in your room?”
    “Yeessss!” came the loud and miserable response. “A little doggie came over yesterday while I was playing in the yard. It was the little doggie that took the doll, but he gave her to me. I didn’t know. Honest, Trixie. I didn’t know!”
    Trixie suddenly burst out laughing.
    “Willy!” she shrieked. “Of course! It was Willy!”
    On further questioning, Bobby described the dog, and Trixie was able to figure out what happened. But first, she excused herself from the table and ran up to Bobby’s room. There was the doll, sitting up in the corner of his closet, surrounded by a collection of old bottlecaps, spiders’ eggs, pine-cones, and rusty garden tools.
    As soon as dinner was over, Trixie immediately called Honey and told her to come over right away. In a matter of minutes, a pale, panting Honey came bursting in the front door, and together they gazed at the antique doll.
    “It’s her all right,” Trixie said. “Would you believe it? That sneaky Willy ran into The Antique Barn and snitched her, just the way he snitched the feather duster and the bag of carrots.”
    “And you know how Willy loves kids,” Honey said. “He was probably delighted that he had something to give Bobby as a present.”
    “She looks as if he dragged her through every bramble patch between