The secret of the Mansion

No. I’m sorry but I’m not going to keep Bobby’s accident a secret from Brian and Mart, Trixie. I’m going to write them a long letter telling them what an important part you played. They’ll be very proud of you."
    Trixie’s father came tiptoeing into the kitchen then. "Whew!" he sighed. "I thought His Royal Highness would never give up and close those big blue eyes of his." He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and then he deftly transferred the turkey from the oven pan to the gleaming silver platter. He winked at Trixie and said, "If there’s one thing I like better than turkey with your mother’s marvelous onion stuffing, it’s more turkey with more stuffing. Let’s eat right here in the kitchen."
    "I’d like that," Mrs. Belden said gaily. "And I’m sure Trixie would, too. She’s going to have to clean up when we leave for our drive and listen every now and then at the bottom of the stairs, too, to make sure Bobby is still asleep. I’m all in favor of saving unnecessary steps during an emergency like this."
    She and Trixie set the kitchen table while Mr. Belden carved. It was much more cozy than eating in the dining room, and in between mouthfuls, Trixie told her parents about her riding lessons.
    "Regan says I’m doing very well," she finished. "Honey told me this morning that he’d probably let me do some jumping in another couple of weeks."
    "Fine," her father said, "but don’t rush things, Trixie. We don’t want another invalid around here until Bobby is back on his feet." He grinned. "Although I suppose that imp is really less trouble when he’s in bed than he is when he’s running around loose, getting into mischief just about every step he takes."
    "For your sake, Trixie," Mrs. Belden added, "I hope Bobby sleeps all afternoon. But if he does wake up around three, give him some pineapple juice and a few chocolate cookies. He didn’t eat much lunch." She went upstairs then to take off her cotton house frock and don a cool, white sharkskin suit.
    "I want your mother to get a change of scene," Mr. Belden said to Trixie. "Bobby has kept her pretty tied down. Well drive up the river and have tea somewhere on the road. It’ll do her good."
    "I know," Trixie agreed as she rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the sink. "Don’t hurry back, Dad. I’ll keep Bobby good and quiet. After we’ve read the comics we can cut out the animals and play games with them. He likes that."
    Trixie waved good-bye to her parents from the terrace, then she tidied up the kitchen, washed and dried the dishes. She had hardly finished putting the last fork away in the silver drawer when Bobby woke up and yelled at the top of his lungs:
    "I’m thirsty—and hung -gry! Holp!"
    "Okay, Bobby," Trixie called up to him. "I’ll be with you in a sec." Hastily she put a glass of pineapple juice and a plate of chocolate cookies on a tray and hurried upstairs.
    Bobby greeted her with a fretful frown. "Straws," he said disdainfully. "You know I have to have two straws."
    Trixie laughed. "Here’s a whole box of colored straws which your friend, Miss Trask, sent you. Red, green, blue, yellow, every color in the rainbow, Bobby. Take your choice."
    Bobby squealed with delight. "I’ll take a norange one and a labbender one," he said happily. "Labbender is sometimes almost always my very favrit color."
    As he munched cookies and sipped the ice-cold juice, Bobby insisted upon hearing what Trixie and Honey had discovered up at the old Mansion.
    "Nothing much," Trixie replied evasively. "The rooms are all filled with piles of junk. You can see it through the windows," she added quickly, so that Bobby wouldn’t guess they had gone inside the house. You never could tell how long Bobby could keep a secret, and Trixie wasn’t at all sure, now, that her father would approve of her having climbed in through the window that first day. He’d probably give me the dickens, she reflected, even though I did it just to lock up the place.
    She picked up Peter Rabbit and began to read, but Bobby interrupted.
    "What’d you want the flashlight for, Trixie?" he demanded suspiciously. "Did you find a pirate’s cave or something?"
    Trixie laughed. "No, of course not, Bobby. Don’t you want me to read?"
    Bobby shook his head up and down.
    "Well, then, stop interrupting."
    "I want to know why you borrowed my flashlight," the little boy insisted, his red lips beginning to pout. "You said it was my see-crud and your see-crud, but you won’t