The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

most of them were real.’ ”

    Trixie finished reading and sat back in stunned silence.
    Honey grabbed her arm excitedly. “That's where I’ve seen him!” she exclaimed. “Mother buys jewelry at that store, and I must have gone there with her at some time within the last six months!”
    Trixie gaped at her. “You mean—Honey, your mother may have bought some fake jewels from them!”
    Honey shook her head. “I doubt it. Mother can tell the difference between a real gem and a fake just by looking at them.”
    “Can you remember if she bought anything when you were with her?” Trixie asked.
    “No, I can’t, but we certainly have to tell her about this, if she hasn’t already heard.”
    “Well, she certainly will be told,” Miss Trask said to Honey. “Fortunately, your parents are returning from Miami tomorrow afternoon. Poor Eileen,” she sighed, sinking back in her seat. “That young woman has had nothing but grief lately. First her father, then the accident, and now this.”
    “Do you think she knows about it?” Trixie asked anxiously.
    “I don’t know,” Miss Trask reflected. “In fact, I don’t ever remember her mentioning what Peter did for a living. She just always talked about how happy she was with him, until recently—” Miss Trask stopped, as if saying anything more would be breaking a confidence.
    “I really don’t know if she’s aware of this,” Miss Trask concluded simply. “She’ll find out soon enough, I’m afraid.” Then she turned her head and gazed out the train window, and the two girls knew she would say no more.
    Honey and Trixie exchanged meaningful looks. Trixie’s mind was whirling with this new information. Gems , costumes , and catalogs! What does it all mean? she puzzled as the train made its way toward Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson.
    Nothing more was mentioned about Peter Ashbury or Eileen Darcy for the remainder of the trip, although Trixie was nearly bursting to share her deductions with Honey. She also wanted to ask Miss Trask more questions about Eileen Darcy, but she knew she’d get no answers.
    The train finally pulled into the Sleepyside station. Miss Trask picked up the newspaper and once again tucked it neatly under her arm.
    “Mrs. Wheeler will be sure to see the article when she returns tomorrow,” she said quietly.
    As Miss Trask led the way to the parked car, Honey and Trixie dropped back behind her. “I’ve got to talk to you,” Trixie whispered, “but I have to do the chores that Moms didn’t finish, or my folks won’t let me out of the house for a month. Call me later this evening.” Honey nodded, and they hurried to the car.
    Miss Trask dropped Trixie off at Crabapple Farm. The governess had been very quiet since the revelation of the news article. She’s probably worried about Miss Darcy, Trixie thought as she thanked her for the day.
    Trixie trudged slowly up the driveway, lost in thought, her hands thrust in her coat pockets.
    “Hey, Trixie!” Bobby shouted, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere.
    Trixie looked up, startled. “Sorry, Bobby.” She smiled when she saw his cheery, cold-reddened face. “My mind was a million miles away.”
    “Moms said you went to New York City. Is that a million miles away?” Bobby asked.
    “No, honey.” Trixie giggled at the question. “That’s just an expression. It means that I was thinking about something totally different from what I was doing.”
    “What were you doing?” the little boy asked. “And what’s a ’spression?”
    Trixie sighed. At some point in most conversations with Bobby, it was best to admit defeat.
    “I’ll try to explain it better later on,” Trixie laughed. “Why don’t you come inside for a while? I’ll read you a story.”
    Bobby shook his head. “Nope. Can’t. Reddy’s getting his rest-up. I played and played with him all morning and after lunch. Then Moms said I should let him rest up for a while and I should go outside to play.”
    Trixie laughed again. “I’ll bet you wore poor Reddy out with all that playing. Okay, I’ll call you in later, after I finish my chores. Then I’ll read a nice, quiet story to both you and Reddy.“
    “Okey-dokey,” Bobby said happily, and he went back to the snowman he’d been building.
    He’s certainly in a good mood today. Trixie smiled to herself as she watched the little boy, bundled in heavy snow gear, clumsily attempt to pack more snow onto the lopsided figure he had created. It must be because