The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road

button nose wrinkled.
    It took Trixie a second to figure out the reason for the terrible face Bobby was making. She suppressed another giggle as she realized that he was preparing to carry out the first part of his bargain, to let Trixie finish washing his face without any more protests.
    Trixie was able to finish the clean-up operation quickly once Bobby’s cooperation was insured. “There you go, sport,” she said. “All finished.”
    Bobby let out his breath, opened his eyes, and blurted, “One small cooked carrot. Okay, Trixie?”
    Laughing, Trixie gave her brother a hug and hurried him downstairs.
    Bobby and Trixie got to the dining room to see Mart coming in from the kitchen with the huge platter of cooked vegetables and meat. Brian was right behind him with a basket of rolls.
    “Moms told us we could eat as soon as you helped her put the food on the table,” Brian said, his eyes twinkling. “Somehow, the idea of having to wait for dinner until you finished scrubbing the backyard from our youngest sibling’s face made Mart forget that carrying food is woman’s work.’ ”
    “I did not forget,” Mart said haughtily as he set down the platter of vegetables and took his place at the table. “I simply allowed the lure of the repast to overcome my abhorrence for menial tasks.”
    “Serving food is not a menial task,” Trixie said as she sat down. “As a matter of fact, it isn’t even necessarily women’s work. Honey says—” Trixie felt a pang as she remembered her fight with Honey, about which her family knew nothing. She felt herself redden as she continued. “Honey says that when she and Jim and their parents go to the fancy restaurants in New York, the food is almost always served by waiters. So there, Mart Belden.” Mrs. Belden chuckled. “I would suggest that we all serve ourselves, now that the food is on the table, before it gets cold. But first, Brian, since your father is out of town for a couple of days, why don’t you ask the blessing?”
    The Beldens all bowed their heads while Brian said a short prayer of thanks. Trixie listened with her head lowered, thinking how mature her oldest brother’s voice was beginning to sound. It was easy to imagine him as a doctor, giving people all sorts of sound medical advice in that quiet, confident voice, she thought.
    As soon as the family said “amen,” a distinctly immature voice was heard. “Pass me the vegetables first, please,” Bobby piped.
    Bobby’s mother and his brothers looked at him in astonishment as Trixie, straight-faced, handed him the vegetables.
    “To what may we attribute young Robert Belden’s sudden conversion to vegetarianism?” Mart asked, looking at Trixie suspiciously.
    “I just explained how healthful and nutritious they are, Mart,” Trixie said teasingly.
    “Huh-uh, Trixie,” Bobby said helpfully. “That’s not what you ’splained. You ’splained that if I would eat a whole cooked carrot, you would give me a s’prise after dinner. And I asked for the vegetables first ’cause I want the very smallest carrot.”
    Brian, Mart, and Mrs. Belden burst into laughter, and Trixie joined in, while Bobby looked from one to the other, trying to understand what was so funny.
    After dinner, Trixie kept her promise and gave the piece of paper to Bobby.
    “What is it, Trixie?” he asked.
    “I don’t know, Bobby,” she said. “It’s just a funny-looking piece of paper.”
    “May I see it, Bobby?” Brian asked. “I’ll give it right back.” He took the piece of paper and looked at it.
    Mart looked at the paper over Brian’s shoulder and said immediately, “That funny-looking piece of paper is in fact a fifty-deutsche-mark note.”
    “D-Doich what?” Trixie asked.
    “Deutsche mark, Trixie,” Brian said. “That’s the basic unit of German currency. It’s sort of like our dollar. One deutsche mark is worth about fifty cents in United States’ money.
    “That piece of paper is therefore worth approximately twenty-five dollars, although I doubt whether you could find anyone who would redeem such a damaged specimen.”
    “It isn’t a specimen,” Bobby protested. “It’s a s’prise, and it’s mine. Trixie gave it to me. May I be ’scused so I can go put my s’prise in with my collection, Moms?”
    Mrs. Belden turned to Trixie, who looked stunned by the news that her funny-looking piece of paper was worth twenty-five dollars.
    Trixie looked at her mother, smiled, and shrugged.
    “You may be