The Mystery off Glen Road

She glanced at her wrist-watch. “Well, we’ve finished patrolling this section, and although we didn’t do a very good job on the other side, there isn’t time now. What with grooming the horses and cleaning the tack, we’re going to be late to lunch.”
    It was almost one when they separated in front of the stable. Trixie raced home and scrubbed her hands at the kitchen sink. The other Beldens were already seated at the table, but nobody scolded her for being late.
    “We’ve finished our share of the work,” Brian told her. “How did the patrolling go?”
    “Fine,” Trixie said. “Just fine.”
    “How many poachers did you two catch?” Mart asked derisively as she pulled out her chair. “And where did you leave their corpses?”
    Trixie jumped guiltily and hastily changed the subject. “What about grain for the birds? When do we scatter that around?”
    “Jim and I took care of that today,” Brian said. “I’m not sure when it has to be done again, but Jim will let you know.” He turned to his father. “Jim sure is great, Dad. He seems to know everything about everything.”
    They began to discuss the work they were doing on the clubhouse then, and Trixie ate in silence. There was so much to be done and so little time to do it all in. After lunch she washed the dishes and hurried up to take a shower. It was agony to have to waste time getting dressed up for Ben’s arrival, because just as soon as she could, she was going to go home and change back into jeans. Then she would bike along the road to the trail that led into the game preserve. After that she would have to walk until she reached the clearing where the Thing was. If the Thing was still there! She shuddered just thinking about it.
    For, slowly but surely, Trixie had come to the conclusion that she could not sleep that night until she made sure, one way or the other, about the dogs. If they were the culprits, she knew that she would have to tell Jim. But if they weren’t, then the terrible weight on her conscience would disappear.

A Baffling Discover; • 12

    TRIXIE WORE a pleated dark-blue wool skirt and a pullover dark-blue cashmere sweater that matched. She even polished her school loafers so they didn’t look quite so scuffed, and clasped around her neck a strand of small pearls that Di had donated to the cause.
    Then all of a sudden it dawned on her that today of all days she should be wearing her ring. In fact, she should wear it every time she got dressed up all week. After all the fuss she had made, somebody, if not everybody in the family, would be sure to notice that she never wore it.
    “Oh, woe,” Trixie moaned as she started up the
    hill to the Manor House, “why do I get myself into these scrapes? I wish Jim had never given me that ring.”
    What could she do to solve this problem? “Nothing,” she decided and trudged along until she caught sight of the boys and girls who were waiting for her on the veranda. By the time she arrived, Jim, Brian, and Mart were leaving to continue work on the clubhouse.
    They glanced at her with pity, shrugged and sighed as one man, and departed. This suited Trixie fine, because now she didn’t have to put on her act. Then she noticed to her satisfaction that Di, looking prettier than ever, had already captivated Ben.
    He stared at Trixie for a moment as though he didn’t know who she was, then said coolly, “Hi, goon. Go home and take off your mother’s clothes. On you they definitely look queer.”
    Honey said quickly, “You look darling, Trixie. Come on up to my room with me for a sec. I want to show you something.” She winked at Di. “It’s about the secret. You know.”
    Di winked back with an understanding smile and said to Ben, “Let’s play some of our favorite records. I’m so glad you like country songs, too.”
    “Wow!” Trixie exploded when she and Honey were alone upstairs. “Di’s got him, hook, line, and sinker. How in the world can she stand him?”
    “Oh, Trixie,” Honey cried. “He’s really very good-looking. Tall and broad-shouldered and blond and all. But let’s not talk about him. What worries me is your ring. You’ve simply got to wear it every now and then. If you don’t, your father will think you lost it.”
    “I wish I had,” Trixie said mournfully. “I mean, I wish I were a liar so I could tell him I’d lost it when he asks me where it is. Which he’s going to do pretty soon.”
    Honey nodded. “If you keep your hands in your