The Mystery of the Castaway Children

know he was there?” gasped Honey.
    “I heard him first,” Bobby reported. “He kind of mewed. You know, like a kitten.”
    “When did you first hear him?” asked Di. “Before the rain,” Bobby replied.
    Jim looked upset. “Who would shove a baby into a doghouse and leave him alone in the middle of a storm?”
    Honey’s hazel eyes welled with sympathetic tears. “And why?” she cried.
    Inside Trixie’s skull, the wheels were spinning. A living, breathing mystery lay sleeping in their house. Who was this tiny boy? Who had failed to protect him? What drama had been enacted in their backyard earlier that evening? Somehow, Trixie knew she would discover answers for those questions.
    Trixie had been crumbling a cookie, totally out of contact with family and friends. She looked up to meet her father’s dark eyes.
    Mr. Belden refilled his punch glass. His fingers drummed the tabletop. “I recognize the symptoms,” he sighed. “You’re about to solve the kidnapping case of the century and get your name in the headlines of The New York Times.
    Trixie, I must insist we go to the police at once. A human life is involved. We can’t take a chance on a haphazard search.”
    “Haphazard!” Trixie’s temper blazed.
    Mr. Belden raised one hand for silence. “Hear me out, Beatrix.”
    “Wow,” Bobby breathed. “That’s Trixie’s company name, same as mine is Robert.”
    Mr. Belden nodded and went on. “Brian, since you’re the one who found the baby, you’re the logical one to call the Sleepyside police.”
    Brian crossed the kitchen to the phone, while Trixie exchanged crestfallen glances with Honey. As determined as she’d been to take on this case for herself, Trixie knew, deep down, that her father was right.
    Brian cleared his throat. “This is Brian Belden, and I wish to report—oh, Sergeant Molinson!” Eye contact united the Bob-Whites. Although Sergeant Molinson usually ended up expressing reluctant appreciation for their efforts in solving crimes, his first reaction was always impatience with the young people’s “interference” with police business.
    “Sir, have you a report of a missing child?” Brian asked. “We’ve found an abandoned baby.”
    Brian turned to the others to report, “He’s checking.” Then he muttered, “Yes, sir,” several times. Finally he turned to his parents. “The sergeant says he has to contact the FBI, in case there’s a kidnapping involved. That’s a federal crime. Also, he thinks it will take a few hours to get the official wheels rolling. Is it all right if I say we’re willing to give the baby lodging till then?”
    “Of course,” said Mrs. Belden.
    “If we’re going to have to keep the baby more than a day or two,” Brian continued, “the county will send a social worker tomorrow to investigate us. And the sergeant will be here tomorrow morning for the same purpose.”
    “Investigate us?” Trixie gasped. That was a switch.
    After Brian had finished his conversation and rejoined the group around the polished maple table, Di spoke up. “Mrs. Belden, if your house is too crowded, I’m sure we could care for the baby in our nursery. After all, with two sets of twins and a nurse for each pair, we re certainly equipped for it, and I know my parents wouldn’t mind.”
    Then Honey offered the hospitality of Manor House, the Wheeler mansion. “Miss Trask would fit that baby into her schedule in no time at all,” she insisted. Miss Trask managed Manor House, but still had time to be a friend to her young charges, Jim and Honey.
    Bobby looked distressed. “Moms! Dad! There’s plenty of room in our house, isn’t there?”
    Mrs. Belden smiled at the two girls. “Thank you for offering, but we’ll manage. These walls are elastic. There’s always room for one more at Crabapple Farm, isn’t there, Peter?’
    Peter Belden agreed, though a trace of bewilderment still lingered in his eyes.
    Trixie turned to Jim, her copresident of the Bob-Whites. “Even though Dan’s patrolling the game preserve tonight and won’t be able to come, I think we should have a club meeting now.”
    “If you say so,” Jim answered. “We can fill Dan in later. By the way, what happened to you? Get dumped in a rain barrel?”
    “The precipitation drove her to distraction,” Mart remarked. “Were applying for federal flood control funds tomorrow.”
    Trixie glanced down at the clothing that had dried on her warm skin. Her hair was still damp, and her bare