The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

Old Brom while you’re at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s, Trixie, so you can quit frownin’. I’d rather go there, anyway. Course, I’U stop long enough to get some cookies at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house.”
    “I can count on that, all right,” Trixie said as she tied a coverall apron around her waist and ran hot water into the sink. “I wish we had a dishwasher!”
    “Moms thinks she has—you!” Brian said and dodged out the door to escape a shower of soapy water. “Gosh, here comes Di now, and she has her little twin brothers riding up in front of her. What chance do we have with three monsters?”
    “Larry and Terry can come with me to visit Old Brom,” Bobby said, jumping from one foot to another. “Hell tell us some whoppers. Remember the one he told us about No-mah-ka-ta, the witch who lives on top of the highest Catskill? You know, that first time I ever met him.”
    “I sure do remember,” Trixie said, smiling. “Every time it’s rained since that time, you tell us it’s the old witch spinning clouds and sending the winds racing to the four comers of the earth.”
    “Well, I like Old Brom. He’s my friend.”
    “You’re right. He doesn’t seem to want many friends—just you and Mrs. Vanderpoel. He’s a hermit. He’d rather be alone. He won’t be alone today, with you three young hood!—”
    “He likes boys—little boys—’cause they don’t interr...”
    “Interrupt.”
    “That’s right. Today maybe he’ll tell us about The Flying Dutchman . Do you s’pose he piloted a jet?”
    Jim arrived in time to hear Bobby’s question. “Not a chance, fella,” he told the little boy.
    They only had sailing ships in those days. Captain Marryat told us about The Flying Dutchman in his book The Phantom Ship. See if Trix will read it to you.”
    ”Will you, Trixie?” Bobby asked. “Hi, Terry! Hi, Larry! Were going to Old Brom’s house!”
    Trixie sent the little boys out in the yard to play till the Bob-Whites were ready to leave. With the help of Diana and Honey, she made quick work of the dusting and dishes.
    Under Mart’s guidance, the power mower zoomed around the large lawn. Brian followed with the clippers and Jim with the broom. It wasn’t long till everything was shipshape, inside and out, and they were off for the brick house in the woods.
    Each big boy took a little boy in front of him on his saddle. They entered the woods far down Glen Road, for the brick cottage was just on the fringe of the game preserve.
    When they knocked at her door, Mrs. Vanderpoel turned from the oven of the old-fashioned stove which filled a comer of her kitchen.
    “I just knew I’d be having visitors,” she said, pushing her gray curls back from her plump, heat-reddened face. “I never was so glad to see anyone. And the little boys, too!” She lifted a comer of her blue checked apron and wiped the perspiration from her chin. “Bobby, could you boys eat a nice, warm windmill cookie?”
    “Yes, ma’am!We re going to call on Old Brom.”
    “Now, that will really please him. You can'take him some fresh cookies, too.”
    “If he can find his mouth behind his bushy whiskers,” Bobby said, giggling, his mouth full of crumbled cookie. “Wait till you see those whiskers!” he told the Lynch twins. “They’re just like Rip Van Winkle s. Is this the bag for Old Brom?” Without waiting for an answer, he scooped up a handful of cookies, shouted his thanks, and disappeared down the footpath, with the Lynch boys scurrying to keep up.
    “Well, now, that’s that!” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. “If you’ll bring the jug of cool milk out of the well house, Trixie, we can all sit down here at the table. Where’s Dan?”
    “He couldn’t come with us today. Mr. Maypenny had work that had to be done right away. Anyway, this is a business call, Mrs. Vanderpoel,” Trixie explained. “Mmmm, this milk is good.”
    “Did you fill all the mugs?” Mrs. Vanderpoel asked anxiously and peered around. “That’s right!” She heaped the cookie plate again, then settled into the big captain’s chair at the head of the table. She blew on her glasses, wiped them clear with her apron, then asked, “Business you say, Trixie? A business call?”
    “Yes. You know everyone who has ever lived around Sleepyside, Mrs. Vanderpoel, particularly the old Dutch families. Did you ever hear the name Betje Maasden?”
    Mrs. Vanderpoel thought. “I’ve known several Betjes. There was Betje Van Bronck, Betje Schimmel, Betje— Why,