The secret of the Mansion

with him in turn and introduced themselves.
    "I’m Trixie Belden, and I live down there at Crab-apple Farm," Trixie said.
    "And I’m Honey Wheeler, and I just moved into the large house on the hill," Honey added.
    "Well," Jim said, "I’d sure like to be adopted by both of you, but it’s impossible. Jonesy—that’s my stepfather—is my legal guardian, and he’ll never let anybody take his place. You see," he went on as the three of them sat down on the old mattress, "when I was born, my father’s Uncle James sent me this mug; and at the same time, he wrote Mother and Dad that he and Aunt Nell were naming me in their wills as their sole heir. Sometime later Aunt Nell died, and Mother never heard from him again; but she always told me that someday I’d inherit about half a million dollars, and Jonesy thinks he’s going to have control of it when Uncle James dies." He glanced ruefully around the cluttered room. "It looks like I’m going to inherit nothing but a lot of old junk, doesn’t it?"
    "Don’t be too sure of that," Trixie cried excitedly.
    "A lot of people think there’s a fortune hidden in this old house."
    "That’s impossible, Trixie," Honey declared emphatically. "Nobody who had any money would live in such a depressing, untidy place."
    "That’s right," Jim agreed. "Uncle James must have lost all his money in bad investments. But Jonesy doesn’t think so. You see, he snooped around in Sleepyside right after Mother died and heard the same story that there’s a fortune in this old mansion, somewhere. He’s just waiting until Uncle James dies so he can get his hands on it. I’ll never see a penny of it."
    "He sounds like an awful person," Honey said, tears of sympathy welling up in her hazel eyes. "Did he really beat you, Jim?"
    "Sure," Jim said nonchalantly. "But I didn’t mind that so much. Of course, he never did while Mother was alive. He really loved her, and I guess she loved him. She was never very strong," he continued, his green eyes dark with sorrow, "and Jonesy was always very gentle with her. I hated him from the beginning, and I know he felt the same way about me; but we never let Mother know how we felt. It would have broken her heart."
    Trixie didn’t dare look at Honey, because she knew she would burst into tears if she did. "Is your father dead, too, Jim?" she asked quietly.
    "Yes." He stared out of the window for a minute, and the sun glinted in the gold lights in his bright red hair. "You know what?" he asked suddenly. "Someday, I’m going to own a great big all-year-round camp for kids who haven’t any fathers of their own. I’m going to run it so they can study lessons and learn a trade at the same time that I teach them how to swim and box and shoot and ride and skate. They’re going to know how to live in the woods and understand all kinds of wild animals. My dad taught me to—" He stopped, his freckled face flushed with embarrassment. "I guess this sounds pretty funny to you. Me shooting off like this in a broken-down old house without even a cent to my name!"
    "It doesn’t sound funny at all!" Trixie broke in. "It sounds great. I bet you will do it someday, too, Jim."
    "I bet you do, too," Honey echoed. "I’d like to go to a camp like that instead of the dull ones I went to." Jim spread his hands hopelessly. "Well, I’ve got a long way to go. That’s what Jonesy and I fought about mostly. Last summer and this, I wanted to apply at one of those big upstate boys’ camps for a job as junior counselor or junior athletic instructor. I’m pretty good at most sports, and when Dad was alive—" He stopped for a second as though it hurt him even to think about his father. "He taught me a lot about woodcraft. But Jonesy wouldn’t let me get any job at all. I think he was afraid if I proved I could support myself, I’d run away. So he made me work on his truck farm without pay."
    "Boy, he is a Simon Legree," Trixie breathed excitedly.
    Jim nodded in agreement. "We had a heck of an argument when school closed, and day before yesterday, I guess that was Wednesday, I decided to try to find Uncle James and see if he’d help me. I hitchhiked part of the way and walked the rest, sleeping in the woods, because I didn’t have any money, you know. I wasn’t sure exactly where my uncle lived, and I didn’t dare ask anybody, but by luck, this morning, as I was walking along the road, I noticed the faded letters on the mailbox at the foot of the driveway. I remembered that