The Mystery on Cobbett's Island

indignation. Turning to Peter, he continued, “I’ll take charge of this work crew and have them here at eight, sir.” He clicked his heels in salute.
    On the way back to The Moorings, Trixie said, “Now how do you all feel about Peter and the letter?”
    “Oh, I think he’s about the greatest!” Diana answered with a faraway look in her big eyes.
    Mart gave her a withering glance but agreed with Trixie that Peter certainly seemed dependable.
    “How about you, Honey?” asked Trixie. “Do you think we should tell him about the letter?”
    Honey thought for a moment and then said, “You know, anyone who loves old houses and gardens and will work like a beaver to make them beautiful must be all right. Personally, I’m for letting him share the secret.”
    The others agreed, and they decided to take the letter with them the next day and show it to Peter.
    As it turned out, it was Peter who woke them the next morning. Miss Trask called from the bottom of the stairs that he was on the phone, and Honey, pulling on her bright pink bathrobe as she went, hurried to answer. Peter suggested that, since it was such a beautiful morning, they might like to go for a swim and then have breakfast at his house before getting to work.
    Jim, Brian, and Mart, who had heard the girls racing downstairs, joined them in time to hear Honey answer in her sweetest voice that they would love to have a swim and would be right over. Playfully taking the receiver away from Honey, Brian asked Peter if the invitation included only the girls.
    “You, too, of course!” answered Peter gaily. “You think I’m crazy? I’d never hear the last of it if Cap or the other guys saw me swimming alone with three beautiful mermaids. I’ll meet you in front of our gate in ten minutes,” he added, “so step on it!”
    It didn’t take them long to get into their suits, and, taking beach towels as well as shirts and shorts to put on after their swim, they set out for the gate of the Oldest House. On the way over, Jim, looking intently at Trixie, said, “Isn’t that a new suit, Trix? Nice color.” Without waiting for an answer, he dashed ahead to talk to Brian and Mart.
    “Jeepers,” Trixie whispered to Honey and Di, “he actually noticed what color it is!”
    Peter was waiting for them, and together they crossed Shore Road to the sandy beach that ran in front of The Moorings and the Kimballs’ property. In contrast to the last two days, the weather was now perfect, and they were glad to see the beautiful island at its best. Like Peter, all the Bob-Whites were excellent swimmers—Honey in particular. She ran onto the low springboard at the end of the dock and did a beautiful dive into the clear, cool water.
    “Good girl, Honey,” called Brian.' “You haven’t lost any of your form since last summer. Let’s see you stand on your head in the water.”
    No one except Peter had ever swum in salt water before, and they were surprised at how buoyant it made them. After a brisk game of tag, they began to get a little chilly, so they came out and changed into dry clothes in the little bathhouse at the edge of the beach.
    Returning to Peter’s house, they found places had been set at an iron table on the brick-paved terrace. A big pitcher of tomato juice was ready to be poured, and while they were drinking it, Mrs. Kimball came out with a tray of freshly made coffee cake and cocoa.
    “Have you had breakfast?” Peter asked her. “Won’t you join us, or do you want us to save some of the coffee cake for you later?”
    “I know what all those questions mean, young man,” Mrs. Kimball answered with a laugh. “They’re just a polite way of asking if you may eat all the cake and is there any more in the kitchen.”
    “Guilty, Mother.” Peter grinned and passed the tray to his guests.
    “I made a double recipe, and I’ve already eaten, so help yourselves,” Mrs. Kimball said warmly.
    “This is the best coffee cake I’ve ever eaten in my whole life,” said Trixie. “Even Moms’s isn’t this good. May I have your recipe to take home, Mrs. Kimball?”
    “Of course you may, my dear. It’s one I found in an old cookbook in the kitchen cupboard, and what makes it so special, I think, are the black walnuts. We get them from a big old tree near the woodshed—that is, when we beat the squirrels to them.”
    “It’s a good thing Dad isn’t here,” commented Peter, “or there wouldn’t be a crumb left for us. This is his favorite