The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

ready.
    The luncheon dishes were done, and, at Mrs. Belden’s suggestion, Janie had gone to her room to rest.
    Honey and Trixie were in Trixie’s room upstairs. How she loved this room of her own and Moms s inflexible rule: No one enters a room with a closed door without knocking. Here was privacy, a rare thing in a household of young people, and it was greatly treasured.
    “I’d have let you know she was coming,” Trixie said, “but I wasn’t sure—not really sure—till she came home with Moms. Anyway, Mart and Brian helped me get the room ready. Oh, Honey, do you think she will be happy here?”
    “It’s a perfect place for her.” Honey’s eyes shone. “I wouldn’t mind losing my memory, if I could stay for a while at Crabapple Farm.”
    “Anytime... any old time you want to come,” Trixie said, putting her arm around her friend. “I wish I could really do something to help Janie... soon; she looks so white and thin. Oh, I know what you’re going to say: Moms’s food will soon change that. That’s true, but there’s much more to it.”
    “She keeps worrying about not knowing who she is,” Honey said sadly. “I know what you mean. I don’t know what anyone can do about that—I mean anything we haven’t already done.”
    “She’s so helpless. Honey, we can’t just play around this afternoon. We have to start doing what we can for her. I know! I’ll ask Moms if I can go to the library. We can ride our bikes.”
    “What could we do there?”
    “Look over every inch of the New York Times for at least ten days back—see if we can find any item about a missing person.”
    “Don’t you think the Missing Persons Bureau would know that before a news story could get into the New York Times?’
    “Maybe so. Maybe they would. But with so many people disappearing all the time, they could overlook something. It’s worth trying. Miss Trask won’t care if you go, will she?”
    “Not if your mother thinks it’s all right. Shall we ask her?”
    “We’ll just ask if we can go to the library. She might think we were silly to look through the newspaper. I’m sure the boys would think so if she told them.”
    Mrs. Belden had no objection. “You may go—if you think you can get your bike out of the barn and get away without Bobby seeing you. Lately he thinks he has to go along with anyone who leaves this house. He’s back in the pasture with Reddy now, so hurry!”
    The two girls pedaled rapidly to the top of the hill, then coasted their bikes down into the village. They parked them in the rack outside the library and went into the reading room.
    “May we please see late copies of the New York Times ?” Trixie asked.
    “Help yourself, girls,” the librarian answered. “They’re hanging on that rack over there—this week’s editions. If you want to go back farther than that, reach into the shelf right back of the rack.” They carried copy after copy to the long table and ran their fingers down each column looking for news of accidents or missing people, following through on any item that seemed to have any promise. Aside from the small notice about the dredging of the marshland, which Honey found, there was no other mention of Sleepyside.
    “I didn’t think we’d find anything,” Honey said sadly. “After all, the police all over the state of New York have been notified.... What are you staring at, Trixie?”
    “This!” Trixie said aloud, and the librarian held up a warning finger. “Look, Honey.” She spread out a copy of a small newspaper from Lakeside, Illinois, a Chicago suburb.
    “That man who was sitting across the table from us left it,” she told Honey excitedly. “And I saw this headline. It may mean something.”
    Honey read the headline: WHAT HAPPENS TO MISSING PEOPLE?
    In response to a roving reporter s questions, several people had given their answers. Trixie’s eyes fairly popped from her head as she huddled close to Honey, reading.
    The picture of one woman, and her answer, stood out as though it were in boldface type.
    The woman s name, Beth Meredith, was given, and her address. In an excited whisper, Trixie read Beth Meredith’s answer to the query:

“Ten days ago my younger sister, Barbara Crane, went to the southern part of New York State to take her first teaching job. She promised to write or call the minute she found a place to stay. I haven’t heard a word from her. Today I called the president of the school board, and he said she had not