The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

next. Listlessly she did her chores in the house and garden. She took care of Bobby and tried to share his enthusiasm for whatever they were doing, but she wasn’t very successful.
    At the moment, they were playing checkers, but Trixie’s mind wasn’t on the game. She had lost three times in a row. A tear slipped down her cheek.
    Bobby misunderstood. “Don’t cry, Trixie. You’ll win next time. I’ll let you,” he said sympathetically.
    Mrs. Belden overheard. “Bobby, you find something to do by yourself now.” She waited until he was out of the room. “Trixie?” she asked, putting her arm gently around Trixie’s shoulders.
    “Oh, Moms, I’ve made such a mess of everything!”
    “Trixie, you can’t blame yourself. You had good intentions, but things turned out badly because of what other people had done.”
    “But I should have minded my own business, like you and Dad wanted me to,” Trixie moaned. “If I hadn’t tried to help Mrs. Elliot—”
    “Things might have been worse for her if you hadn’t become involved. Of course it’s a blow to her, finding out about Max’s police record. But that’s not your fault, either. It would have come out sooner or later. You did accomplish something good,” Mrs. Belden said. Trixie wiped away a tear. “What?” she asked. Mrs. Belden spread open yesterday’s White Plains newspaper to a page of color photographs. One of them was a picture Mart had taken of Mrs. Elliot’s sweet pea vines climbing on the umbrella frame.
    Trixie stared at the photo. “Well, at least that’s something,” she murmured. “Not much, but something.”
    “Trixie,” her mother chided. “Not long ago, you were positive this photo was going to win the big grand prize at the end of the contest. Let’s have some of that enthusiasm back.” Trixie shrugged. “It’s gone, Moms. I’m not so sure now that Honey and I should even plan on being detectives. I don’t want to create problems for people.”
    “You mustn’t feel like that, Trixie,” Mrs. Belden said with a sigh. She glanced at the photo, then looked closer. “Why, look! The flowers on this short vine look yellow. I don’t recall ever seeing a yellow sweet pea blossom. Were there really yellow flowers when the photo was taken, or is something wrong with the printing here?” Trixie glanced at the photo without her usual keen interest. “I don’t remember. Maybe Mart knows.”
    Mart came in at that moment. “What do I know?” he asked. “I thought I was supposed to be just a dumb brother.”
    “I’ve probably been wrong about that, too,” Trixie murmured.
    Mart stared at her in disbelief. For once, no big words came to mind. Outside, a car door slammed. Mr. Belden was home from the bank for lunch.
    “What’s new in town?” Mrs. Belden inquired. “Anything that would perk up this family? The young people are so down in the mouth they’re about to trip over their chins.”
    “I know just how they feel,” Peter Belden said, “because right now, I’m feeling the same way.”
    “Peter! It’s hard enough trying to cheer them up. What’s wrong with you?”
    Trixie’s father slumped in a chair. “It’s bank business, of course, and I shouldn’t say anything. But I had an inquiry from the local Social Security office this morning. They had information that Mrs. Elliot was earning too much money. People with a large, steady income aren’t eligible to collect Social Security benefits until they’re seventy-two years old.”
    Mrs. Belden sounded puzzled. “Ethel is under seventy-two, but she certainly isn’t earning much money.”
    “According to the Social Security office, she has been,” Trixie’s father said. “They claim they have proof.”
    “There must be some mistake,” Trixie said in disbelief.
    Her father shrugged his shoulders. “I tried to tell them they were wrong. Ethel certainly hasn’t been depositing large sums of money in the bank. The office thinks that she’s banking it somewhere else or hiding it. Anyway, they’re going to stop sending her Social Security checks. She’ll either have to repay what they claim she’s received, or they’ll hold any more payments.” Trixie was on her feet. “Daddy, you’ve got to stop them! If you don’t, Mrs. Elliot will have to sell her property.”
    “I argued with them all I could,” Peter Belden said wearily. “They didn’t go into details with me, but they said that they’ve seen receipts that show, she’s been