The Mystery on Cobbett's Island

steer us back on the right road.”
    “You know you have the full cooperation of all the B.W.G.’s, plus Peter, and our esprit de corps has never been higher,” added Mart earnestly, seeming to realize that this was no time to tease his sister.
    “Thanks, Mart,” Trixie answered warmly. “You’re all truly wonderful, honest you are.”
    “Let’s not think about it right now,” Diana suggested, feeling that time was the only thing that could ease the situation.
    “You’re right, Di. We’ll enjoy the party and just hope for the best,” Honey agreed.
    “I intend to have a good time, too, but I’m still going to keep thinking , for goodness’ sake!” Trixie impatiently pushed her chair away from the table and started up-stairs. Honey and Di followed, concerned about Trixie’s black mood.
    “She’ll snap out of it,” Honey whispered to Di. “I’ve never known her to be glum very long.”
    After they had bathed and dressed, they combed their hair and, slipping into their black flats, hurried over to the Oldest House to change into their costumes. The boys had gone on ahead to help carry tables and chairs out to the garden. Everyone was in a bustle of excitement when the girls arrived.
    “My committee says practically everyone on the island is coming,” Mrs. Kimball said after greeting them. “Peter says the boys are going to help him park the cars down in the lower field. Trixie, will you sit out on the porch and sell the tickets for us?”
    “Anything you say, Mrs. Kimball,” said Trixie cheer-fully, the old sparkle coming back into her eyes. Honey and Di exchanged winks.
    “Di and Honey, I’d like you to direct the guests out
    to our gazebo for tea, and tell them to feel free to look through the gardens,” Mrs. Kimball continued. “The roses are at their best right now. By the way, have you all seen the gazebo since we set up the tea things? It turned out better than I imagined it could!”
    “Let’s go take a look, and then we’d better get into our dresses before we get caught by an early arrival,” suggested Honey.
    “Jeepers!” exclaimed Trixie as they approached the gazebo. “It doesn’t look like the same place at ail. How perfectly darling!”
    “The committee must have worked awfully hard to get it decorated in such a short time. Look at the festoons of greens around the columns. You’d never know the paint was peeling,” said Honey.
    “What’s that on the table?” asked Di as she went inside.
    “That must be what the boys meant when they said they had a surprise,” said Trixie.
    On the table, in front of a beautiful arrangement of flowers, was a model of a colonial building. A sign on it read: MODEL OF THE PROPOSED COBBETT’S ISLAND PUBLIC LIBRARY. Just then Mrs. Kimball came in, carrying a tray of silver, and explained that Peter had started the model in school but had not had time to complete it. With the help of Jim and the others, it had been finished this morning.
    “I thought they were taking a long time to fix a couple of boards and a broken pillar,” Trixie said, “but they certainly kept this a deep, dark secret.”
    “It took a bit of doing, but they managed to smuggle it out of Peter’s room without you girls suspecting a thing,” Mrs. Kimball laughed.
    It didn’t take the girls long to dress, and they were ready on the porch as the first guests walked up from the parking lot. More and more people followed, and Trixie had to work fast to see that everyone had a ticket and the proper change. Honey and Di, after escorting a party to the gazebo, would run back to the house, as fast as their skirts would permit, to greet another group. The line seemed endless. Mrs. Kimball saw that extra cookies and cakes were taken out as supplies became depleted. She seemed able to be in several places at once, chatting with guests and seeing that everything was going smoothly.
    By five o’clock, the last guest had departed, the committee had finished cleaning up, and Mrs. Kimball, looking tired but happy, joined the Bob-Whites and Peter on the porch. Jim, noticing that Trixie was counting the money, asked, “What’s the take, Trix? By the number of cars we handled this afternoon, we must have made a fortune.”
    “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen,” Trixie counted out loud. “Two hundred and fifteen dollars!” she exclaimed. “Wow!”
    “Wow, indeed,” Mrs. Kimball laughingly repeated.
    “And that’s all free and clear, because the food was donated. How