The Mystery off Glen Road

departed, “that she has a brain to be brained.”
    Both of the girls listened until his heavy, angry footsteps died away. Then Trixie whirled on Honey. “Now you’ve done it. No matter what I do or say, Mart will never take me seriously.”
    Honey tossed her light brown hair back from her slim shoulders. “Even if you live to be ninety, Trixie, Mart will never take seriously anything you do or say. You might as well face that, here and now, and let him in on the scheme. What I mean is, he adores Brian even more than you do, so he will take seriously the whole business about the diamond ring.”
    “Never,” Trixie said defiantly. “Don’t forget that I’ve lived with Mart ever since I was born. He just wouldn’t cooperate, although he might try. He’d laugh his head off at all the wrong moments. Not,” she added as she started for the door, “that he has a head to be laughed off.”
    Honey hastily followed her out into the hall, and they clung to each other there for a minute, laughing almost hysterically.
    “Oh, all right,” Honey finally gulped. “ Don't let Mart in on the secret. But mark you my words, O Lily Maid of Astolat, you’ll live to rue the day.”
    Trixie said nothing, but as she hurried home, she couldn’t help shivering a little. Not so much because it was a cold, crisp fall day, but because she felt in her bones that Honey was right. Every time that she, Trixie, had tried to solve a problem without consulting Mart, they had always ended up in a near-catastrophe because, as it turned out, they had both been working along the same lines but at crosspurposes with each other.
    In the warm kitchen at home, Trixie plunged her cold hands into the sinkful of hot, sudsy water. Pretty soon she would have to go upstairs and don a dainty frock. The very thought made her shiver again.
    Her parents and Brian would certainly look at her with expressions that meant that they thought she had lost her mind. Bobby, of course, wouldn’t notice. It would be all the same to him if she appeared in a gunnysack or a ball gown with a long train.
    Mart, however, was something else again. He would not only look at her askance if she dressed for dinner, but he would make caustic remarks.
    “Oh, nuts,” Trixie reflected. “Honey’s probably right. I should let Mart in on the secret. But I can’t. There are so many problems involved. He’d be sure to let the cat out of the bag, and Brian would know why I wanted that silly old diamond ring. And if Brian knew, he’d never let me ask Dad to take it out of the bank.”

Glamour Girl • 6

    IT WAS AGONY, but Trixie somehow did it. She appeared at dinner that evening wearing a dainty red-and-white polka-dotted party dress and her new black patent leather slippers. She had brushed and dampened her blond curls so that they looked almost as neat as though they had been set by a beauty parlor expert. She had also helped herself to her mother’s hand lotion and toilet water.
    The whole thing had been such an effort that she found she couldn’t walk naturally. Instead of racing over to the table and sliding into her chair, she moved as stiffly as though she were a puppet controlled by strings.
    A feminine Pinocchio , that's just what I am, she reflected grimly as she marched up to the table and sat down.
    Nobody said a word for a long minute. Then, as though they, too, were controlled by strings, Trixie’s father and brothers all, simultaneously, took large sips from their water tumblers. Then Mr. Belden patted his small moustache with his napkin and carefully cleared his throat.
    “Good evening, Miss Belden,” he said in a voice that Trixie had never heard him use before. He sounded as though he were choking in spite of the water he had gulped. He coughed again. “Haven’t you made a mistake? Our Thanksgiving party does not take place until a week from next Thursday. The twenty-sixth, to be exact, and according to my calendar, today is only the sixteenth.”
    “Oh, Dad.” Trixie waved her hands airily and wished that her fingernails were not so stubby. “How can you be so ridic? This isn’t a party dress. It’s just a very simple little thing Moms found last summer in a bargain basement. But it is becoming, isn’t it? I mean, Ben liked it.” She stared down at her plate and was sorry that she hadn’t had time to put mascara on her sandy eyelashes. “Of course, it does need jewelry to set it off. Don’t you agree? Just a simple little pin or a