The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

relatives.”
    “How about that stepfather of yours?” Mart asked, mostly to see what Trixie would say.
    He found out.
    “Mart Belden, don’t you ever mention that cruel, mean stepfather of Jim’s again. No wonder Jim doesn’t think of him as family. He wasn’t a blood relative, anyway.”
    “I can’t bear to think of how terribly he treated you,” Honey said and put her hand on her brother’s arm. “He beat you and starved you and even tried to burn you in that old house! It’s terrible! Thank goodness he’s no longer your guardian. We’ve heard the last of him.”
    “I hope we have,” Trixie said devoutly, a faraway look in her eyes.
    “Let’s forget about that and think about Juliana!” Honey said firmly.
    “She’s lots older than us,” Diana said, “if she’s old enough to have gone to college and to be engaged! Imagine that!”
    “Maybe she won t even like to do the same things we do,” Dan said. “Do you think so, Mart?”
    “She’ll like her handsome cousin,” Mart answered and grinned as he saw Jim’s freckled face color. “Furthermore,” Mart said and touched his waistline, “even someone with a beard down to here would like to ride a horse.”
    “And ride in the Bob-White station wagon!” Diana said.
    “And go swimming!” Brian added. “And go picnicking in the woods and everything!”
    Jim took up the letter and read it again, folded it, and gave it back to Trixie. His face was serious. “Even if she is older, we’ll get along fine. I’m sure to like her, because she’s my mother’s niece. I wish my mother could have lived.” His eyes brightened as he looked at Trixie. “She was a lot like your mom.” Trixie’s face saddened. Everyone couldn’t have a mother like Moms. Of course, Jim’s adopted mother, Mrs. Wheeler, like her husband, gave Honey and Jim every material thing they wanted.
    She watched Honey’s face. It reflected loyalty and love for her mother. Trixie knew, though, that Honey realized what Jim meant when he said his own mother had been like Moms. She was always right there when she was needed. Mrs. Wheeler was beautiful and kind— Oh, well, Moms was Moms, and Mrs. Wheeler was Mrs. Wheeler.
    Mrs. Minna Schimmel had said in her letter that her family loved Juliana. The Bob-Whites would love her, too, if only because she was Jim’s cousin.
    “Let’s go up to the house,” Honey said impulsively, “and call Juliana.”
    “That’s an idea,” Jim agreed. “We can ask her to come right over here to our house.”
    “Tell her we’ll meet her at the bus station,” Mart said.
    At the Wheeler house they all gathered around Trixie as she began leafing through the telephone directory. “Here’s her number. Walter De Jong; it’s seven digits. Everyone quiet!”
    Jim dialed and listened to the ring.
    Nobody answered.
    He waited a little, then dialed again—and again —and again.
    A big sigh went up from the Bob-Whites sitting on the floor around the telephone. What a letdown, after the excitement of the letter!
    “I was sure she’d answer,” Trixie said. “Wouldn’t you think she’d stay home or even telephone you, Jim, after she got Mrs. Schimmel’s letter?”
    “Oh, Trixie, pipe down,” Mart said.
    “She probably left home before the postman came,” Brian said. “Or maybe Mrs. Schimmel mailed a letter to her after she mailed the one to you.”
    “Or probably she went to have her hair washed and ironed and her eyelashes replaced,” Mart added.
    Trixie gave him a scornful look. “Now it’s your turn to pipe down, Mart.”
    “I’ll try again later,” said Jim, “and keep on trying. In the meantime, why don’t we surprise Regan and take out the horses?”
    “Not the Beldens,” Trixie said quickly, before Mart and Brian had a chance to say yes. “It’s back to the mines for us. Brians cutting the grass, and Mart and I have to help Moms. She’s making catsup. Whistle for us if you get in touch with Juliana. If you ride, Honey, do be careful when you go near that ledge above the marsh!”
    “As if Jim would let me go within a mile of it!” Honey laughed. “Remember how he yanked Di hack when she wandered toward it?”
    Trixie and her brothers worked hard all afternoon, and the big Belden kitchen was fragrant with the spicy smell of freshly bottled catsup.
    At dinner Mr. Belden read the letter from Holland. “There’s a news story in the Sleepyside Sun tonight with much the same information,” he said. “It quotes