The Mystery of the Emeralds

story!” she finally said. “That girl must have had a lively imagination, just like my mother. She was always making up stories for me when I was a little girl. An emerald necklace! Imagine!”
    “You mean you don’t think it’s true—about Rufus and all?” Trixie asked.
    “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.” Miss Sunderland’s eyes twinkled. “But one thing I know: I’m much too old to care about emeralds. Never did like anything except plain gold jewelry, and not much of that, either.”
    “You said, ‘Maybe it is,’ Miss Sunderland,” Trixie said. “Would you mind if we tried to find out more about it?”
    “Mercy, no, child,” the old lady answered warmly. “I know how young folks like to dream. You just go right ahead and see if you can find the necklace. A charmed one, too, they say. Hmm.”
    “One more question, and then we should be on our way,” Trixie continued. “Have you any idea where Rosewood Hall was? That’s where the letter was written from, so that part must be real.”
    “Rosewood Hall, Rosewood Hall,” Miss Sunderland mused. “No, I don’t rightly think I do, although the name has a faintly familiar sound. I wonder—”
    Trixie and Honey kept perfectly still, waiting for whatever it was the old lady was groping for.
    “No, I don’t recall anything about Rosewood Hall, but maybe you’d find some mention of it in my father’s diaries. He kept them for several years, and I have them all,” she volunteered.
    “Oh, may we look at them?” Honey and Trixie asked almost in the same breath.
    At that moment they saw a young man coming up the road.
    “Hi, Miss Julie,” he called out cheerily as he jumped over the fence, carefully balancing an old-fashioned milk can in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other.
    “Why, it’s Neil,” Miss Sunderland said pleasurably.
    The boy was tall and rangy, with wide shoulders and slim hips. His light brown hair was carefully combed—almost too carefully, Trixie thought to herself. His blue jeans and T-shirt were clean but worn, and his scuffed cowboy boots looked more than a bit incongruous.
    When Miss Sunderland introduced Trixie and Honey, Neil gave them an appraising look and said, “Pleased to meetcha. Don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts before.” He had set the milk and eggs on the edge of the well, and, as he spoke, he stuck his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans.
    “No, were from Sleepyside,” Trixie answered a bit coolly and then added, “and where do you come from?”
    There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, for she had taken an immediate dislike— No, “dislike” wasn’t the word for it. She just had a feeling that Neil was a little fresh. He reminded her vaguely of Dan Mangan when she first met him, although Neil was not as sullen as Dan had been.
    “Oh, up north of here,” Neil answered vaguely.
    “I’m figuring on moseying down Texas way before winter and getting me a job on a ranch, but I took a fancy to Miss Julie here, so I’m stopping off for a while,” he continued, giving the old lady an ingratiating smile.
    The way he talks makes me feel he’s read too many Western comic books, Trixie thought to herself. I’d like to see him on a bucking horse. I bet he wouldn’t last long! Then, aloud, she said, “Well, that sounds like fun. No school, no worries.”
    “I’ll say no more school!” Neil answered emphatically. “I hate school! Do you think they teach you anything about horses? No, just a lot of junk that don’t do a guy no good.”
    A little grammar might have done you some good, Trixie felt like saying, but she controlled the impulse.
    “Oh, do you like horses?” Honey asked brightly. “Trixie and I love to ride. We have several horses at home.”
    “I’ll just bet you do, miss,” Neil replied out of the comer of his mouth. “You see, I ain’t that lucky, but I’ll have me some horses one of these days, you can bet.” With that, he picked up the milk and eggs and took them into the house.
    “Isn’t he a nice boy?” Miss Sunderland asked warmly. “See how he took those things to the kitchen without even being asked? I don’t know how I’ll ever get along without him.”
    “Well, he does seem to take good care of you,” Trixie replied. “But isn’t it too bad he left school so soon? He may need some more education.”
    “Oh, he’ll turn out all right,” Miss Sunderland said. “He’s a bright boy, really, but he doesn’t seem to have any roots,