The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

better. She kept asking her so many questions.”
    “Did Janie object?”
    “She didn’t object, exactly, but she was sort of bewildered. It seemed to me that Juliana knew this but kept on asking—almost as though she wanted to be... mean.”
    “That’s a harsh word.”
    “I know it is. I told you it’s hard to explain the feeling I had. It makes me ashamed, because look how wonderful she was this afternoon with Larry and Terry Lynch and Bobby! Who else would have thought to ask Dan to ride Spartan over here so the boys could see him dance? They loved it. Dan thinks she’s one hundred percent perfect.”
    Mrs. Belden laughed. “She doesn’t sound like a mean person. I wonder—is it Juliana who rubs you the wrong way, or would you feel the same about anyone who upset your Bob-White activities?”
    “Oh, Moms, I hope I’m not that selfish. I don’t feel that way about everybody-not about Janie. Everybody loves Janie.”
    “Does Honey have this impression of Juliana? Does Jim?”
    Of course Jim doesn’t. She’s his cousin. I haven’t said anything to them about it. I guess it’s just me. Forget it!”
    Mrs. Belden opened the door to let Reddy out in response to Bobby’s whistle. “You forget it, Trixie. Whatever the feeling is, it will pass away. I’ve been thinking about something else. Since Janie seems to be greatly recovered physically, do you think it would help this amnesia if she’d get away from the hospital, away from the atmosphere of sickness?”
    “Oh, Moms, it would! It would! It would help her more than anything. Do you think we could possibly—”
    “Invite her to stay with us for a while at Crabapple Farm? This is exactly what I had in mind. I thought I’d ask the doctor about it tomorrow morning. I’ve already talked it over with your dad. He thinks, as I do, that wholesome food, lots of fresh air, walks in the woods, normal people around her— all of it could help Janie. I’ll see if Dr. Gregory agrees.”
    In the morning Mrs. Belden took Bobby to White Plains to do some shopping.
    “I’ll stop at the hospital first thing and talk to Dr. Gregory,” she told Trixie. They may let me bring Janie home with me later on.
    “Perfect! Do you think they will?”
    “It’s possible. Oh, dear, I meant to dust the downstairs bedroom. The sheets have been changed, but the room does need more cleaning. Maybe I’d better wait till tomorrow to see about Janie coming here.”
    “No! No! I can clean the room. The boys will help me.”
    “Oh, we will, will we?” Mart asked. “Who says so?”
    “I do,” his mother answered. “It won’t take long. You want Janie to come here, don’t you?”
    “Of course, Moms. Oh, all right! All right!”
    The big old-fashioned farmhouse was ideally arranged to provide a maximum of privacy for a guest. An extra room and bath had been built downstairs for Trixie’s father and mother just after they had married. A few years later, both grandparents died. Now the room housed Mr. Beldens occasional business guests and, from time to time, the children’s guests.
    A big picture window looked out on Mrs. Belden’s rose garden. She had taken prizes at the county fair, especially for the comer garden of old-fashioned yellow banksias, which trailed along the white picket fence, and bushes of sweet-scented moss roses. These were an inheritance from Mr. Belden’s mother and had grown in the same spot for over half a century.
    The room itself had been recently refurnished and was gay with yellow-flowered chintz and pale green walls. The furniture was pine, with twin spool beds, bookcases and a matching desk—an inviting room, and one in which Trixie hoped Janie would be happy and grow strong and well.
    When Mrs. Belden and Bobby left, the dust began to fly. The boys carried the rug from the guest room and out onto the grass to beat it.
    “Whack!” Brian wielded the rattan beater. “There’s one for the guy in the Bronx who put our Bob-White bus on the blink!”
    “Whack!” said Mart. “Another for the goon Trixie saw down at the marsh.”
    “They’re both the same person,” Trixie said, giving the dust mop a vigorous shake in Mart’s direction. “It was his pipe I found, too, after he jangled those wires on our car.”
    Brian laughed. “You and your one-track mind.”
    “Yeah, Trixie the Schoolgirl Shamus,” Mart teased. ‘Where did all this dust come from, anyway? Don’t you and Moms ever clean that room?”
    “We can’t take the