The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

Stranger in the Garden • 1

    TRIXIE BELDEN bounced into the kitchen. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her sandy curls lifted as though they shared her excitement.
    “Oh, Moms, I feel so free!” she said to Mrs. Belden, who was carefully removing cake layers from the oven to cooling racks. “Just think! School is out. I’m free for the whole summer. Nothing to do except—”
    “Except,” her mother interposed, glancing over her shoulder, “to keep your room clean, do your chores around the house and in the garden, and take care of Bobby now and then. Unless, of course, you plan to give up your five dollars a week allowance.”
    “Oh, Moms.” Trixie tried to hide the dismay in her voice. “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t do all those things!”
    “Indubitably not,” scoffed Mart Belden. Eleven months older than Trixie, he detested being mistaken for her twin. He liked to use big words, especially to tease Trixie. “You were just wishing you could eschew those responsibilities during your summer hiatus.”
    “I was not!” Trixie retorted.
    In the doorway, seventeen-year-old Brian Belden combed fingers through his dark, wavy hair and winked at his mother. “I suggest they both be kept out of trouble by enrolling them in summer school.” He grinned at their mother’s suddenly thoughtful expression. “Meanwhile, I’ll convey their apologies to Honey for not coming over to help exercise the Wheelers’ horses.”
    Honey Wheeler was Trixie’s best friend. She lived at the Manor House on the gently sloping hillside just west of the Beldens’ modest Crab-apple Farm. The Wheelers were one of the wealthiest families in the town of Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, just north of New York City. They maintained a stable of fine horses that needed more exercise than the older members of the Wheeler household had time to give them. Hiding was a frequent pastime for the Bob-Whites of the Glen, the club formed by Trixie and her friends.
    The B.W.G.’s had planned to start off their school vacation with a horseback ride this afternoon. Now Trixie was worried about her mother’s reminder of chores.
    “Moms...,” she began, pleading.
    Six-year-old Bobby interrupted. “You promised to take me and Reddy for a walk.” He called to the Beldens’ big Irish setter, who was pawing at the screen door. “Trixie and me will be right out, Reddy.”
    “Bobby,” Mrs. Belden said kindly, “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t interfere with Trixie’s plans for this afternoon. Anyway, I’ll need your help to put the icing on the cake and lick the bowl clean.”
    “Moms!” Trixie exclaimed. “Do you really mean it? I can go? You won t be mad?”
    “I know you’ll attend to your chores sooner or later.”
    “Undoubtedly later,” Mart remarked.
    “Oh, go stick your head in a dictionary and close it hard,” Trixie retorted. She hugged her mother. “I promise I’ll do them real soon. Thanks, Moms, for being so kind and understanding.”
    “I remember how it feels when school lets out for the summer,” said Mrs. Belden, laughing. “Believe it or not, I was your age once upon a time.”
    Bobby looked bewildered. “Was Trixie your baby-sitter, too?”
    “No, Bobby. Mrs. Elliot was.”
    “Mrs. Elliot?” Trixie asked. “I always thought your sitter’s name was Ethel Rogers.”
    “That was her name,” Mrs. Belden said, “before she married Sam Elliot, a widower with a teen-age son.”
    Trixie frowned. “Is Max Elliot her stepson? He’s been working for her since early in the spring.”
    “Sure he is,” said Mart. “He ran away from home just before Mr. Elliot died five years ago. Now he’s back.”
    “Mart,” Mrs. Belden chided, “you don’t make that sound very nice.”
    “Well, he did run away,” Mart said. “He probably thought he couldn’t get anywhere by raising flowers and vegetables with his father. I wonder what made him decide to come back here now.”
    “Maybe he found out life’s not so easy in the city either,” Mrs. Belden said. “Anyway, it’s nice that Ethel Elliot has his help. She’s barely been able to hold on to the place with just Social Security payments and the produce she’s been able to raise and sell. Maybe now she’ll have time to attend garden club meetings again and start winning prizes with her flowers.” Mrs. Belden looked up at Trixie. “Have you changed your mind about going riding?”
    “Don’t count on it,” Brian said with a laugh.
    “Well, be careful,” their