The Mystery off Glen Road

proof of that Shakespearean bit of wisdom, Trixie.” He leaned across the table. “Tell me. Wasn’t Ben impressed when you flashed your ring in his face? Or did you make the mistake of greeting him dressed as you are?”
    “Oh, I got all dressed up,” Trixie said hastily. “But Di is so pretty, I knew right away that it wasn’t any use.”
    “M-m-m,” her father said thoughtfully. “Well, if you’ve decided to be normal again, I imagine you’ll want me to put your ring back in the vault. It’s hardly the appropriate accessory for the costume you’re now wearing.”
    “Oh, Dad,” Trixie cried. “You said I could keep the ring a week. You promised.”
    “So I did,” he agreed. “But, with the possible exception of our Thanksgiving party, I can’t imagine when you’ll want it.”
    “Every evening,” Trixie said, hating the thought of it, “I’m going to get dressed up. I mean, the Wheelers are having a house party because Di’s spending the holidays there, too. Miss Trask is sure to ask Brian and Mart and me to a lot of meals. Their dinners are always formal. I can’t go there looking like this.”
    “Of course you can’t,” Mrs. Belden put in. “Your father’s only teasing, Trixie. But I don’t understand why you’re not up at the Wheelers’ now. What happened? Why did you come back here and change your clothes?” She took a stack of dishes out to the kitchen, beckoning for Trixie to follow. When they had cleared the maple dining table, she said, “I’ll wash and you can dry, honey. I don’t mean to pry into your affairs, and if you don’t want to answer my questions, don’t. It’s just that you look so worried, and I can’t believe that it’s because of Di and Ben.” Trixie gulped. Her mother and father were such good sports. But they wouldn’t approve of the whole business about the ring. And it would be awfully hard to explain why she hadn’t told Jim about the dead deer. Parents could be understanding some times, but so often they couldn’t understand why you did things that seemed wrong but that were perfectly right.
    Suddenly Trixie realized that Jim, in a way, was like her parents. Although she knew now that the dogs weren’t the culprits, she couldn’t tell him about the deer. He would be furious because she hadn’t told him right away, while there was still time for him and Brian to have caught the poacher. Mart, when and if he ever heard about it, wouldn’t be furious, but he would tease her unmercifully and would call her a “lame-brain” from morning to night.
    No, the boys must never know, so there was only one answer to the problem: She and Honey must track down and catch the poacher... all by themselves!
    Aloud she said quite truthfully to her mother, “I am worried, Moms. It’s about the gamekeeper job. It’s more of a responsibility than I thought it would be.”
    Mrs. Belden nodded sympathetically. “You and Honey have an awful lot of territory to cover. So, since you have to get up so early tomorrow morning, I think you ought to go to bed right away.” Trixie, feeling more guilty than ever, shook her head. “I’ll put Bobby to bed first, Moms,” she offered. “He’ll go up right away if I promise to read the funny papers to him.”
    “That would be just wonderful,” Mrs. Belden said gratefully. “He was a dickens all during the drive we took this afternoon. He promised to rest quietly in the backseat, because I didn’t make him take a nap, but instead he jumped up and down constantly and asked a steady stream of questions.”
    “Oh, Moms,” Trixie cried. “I should have stayed home with Bobby while you and Dad went for a drive alone. You must be awfully tired.”
    “Not physically tired,” her mother said cheerfully. “But I am rather tired of Bobby. A little of his conversation goes a long way.” She gave Trixie a hug. “He’s sure to be tired, too, so I don’t think you’ll have to read to him for very long. Make sure that he brushes his teeth properly. He’s recently acquired the habit of wetting the toothbrush and licking the powder off the palm of his hand, and then he informs me that his teeth are clean.”
    They laughed together, and Trixie hurried into the living room, where Bobby was trying to persuade his father to read the comics to him.
    “I’ll do it, Bobby.” Trixie took his fat little hand. “Come on. As soon as you’ve brushed your teeth and climbed into bed, I’ll read Peter Rabbit.”
    He pulled