The Marshland Mystery

Trixie Makes Plans • 1
     
    BRIEF APRIL SHOWERS had been falling off and on since early morning, but now, as the junior-senior high school at Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson let out for the weekend, the skies were clear. Only a handful of white, fluffy clouds still decorated the horizon to the northwest, above the faraway Catskill Mountains.
    Trixie Belden, her sandy, close-cropped curls dancing in a brisk little breeze, exited from the wide doorway with a surge of boys and girls.
    Trixie was bubbly, sturdy, thirteen-almost-fourteen, with round blue eyes that sparkled right now with excitement as she looked about eagerly for her very best friend, Honey Wheeler. She could hardly wait to tell Honey what she was planning for the next day.
    But Honey was nowhere in sight. Usually they came out at the same time and met under the tallest of the maples beside the main walk. All Trixie could do was wait, fidgeting with impatience.
    Honey was thirteen, too. Her home was out on Glen Road, on a huge estate next to the modest farm that the Beldens had lived on for generations. There were woodlands, a lake, a stable of fine horses, and every other luxury that her millionaire father could provide. But she had been a lonely, unhappy girl until she had met Trixie, less than a year before, when the Wheelers had bought Manor House.
    The two girls had hit it off at once and had become the closest of friends and partners in several adventures. They both loved mysteries and had solved several together.
    The girls and their brothers were members of a secret club they had started several months earlier. They called themselves the Bob-Whites of the Glen, B.W.G.’s for short. The club wasn’t for fun alone, though; as Trixie’s oldest brother, Brian, had said, “We’re brothers and sisters helping each other, as well as having good times.” And that’s how it was working out. They had had some exciting times together since they had started and had worked hard to make a success of their club.
    Trixie had just about made up her mind to go back inside the building to see what was keeping Honey, when she heard a teasing voice say, “Hi, small one! Why the gleam in the cerulean orbs? Can it be there is mischief afoot in yon tangle-haired head?”
    It was freckle-faced Mart, her “middle” brother. He was grinning at her from the other side of the tree.
    Trixie frowned. “My hair isn’t tangled. It’s naturally curly, just the same as yours is when you don’t have it whacked off in that silly-looking short haircut!”
    “Insults will get you nowhere, chickie. Come on, give out with the information. What’s your latest brainstorm?” he teased.
    But Trixie knew how to stop him. “Now, don’t be a snoop, my dear little twin brother! Sister will tell you all about it later on.”
    If there was anything Mart hated, it was being called Trixie’s twin. He was eleven months older, but they looked so much alike that people were always gushing over him and telling him that they could see he was a Belden—he looked so much like his twin sister, Trixie. Even having his hair clipped and standing tall didn’t help; he was only an inch or so taller than Trixie.
    His face reddened with irritation. “Forget it. I couldn’t care less. It’s probably some harebrained, dizzy idea like sending red flannel long johns to the Navahos.”
    He turned abruptly and swaggered off, swinging his load of books so violently in an effort to be nonchalant that books and papers flew in all directions. Mart had to scramble to gather them up before they were stepped on by the hurrying boys and girls.
    Trixie held back an impulse to run and help him. She was really very fond of Mart, even if he could be a pest at times. The truth was that if she ever got herself into any sort of jam, Mart helped her out of it, though he grumbled and groused while he did it. Like last November, she thought, when she let herself get captured by a dangerous imposter. What a dumb thing to do! If Mart hadn’t helped her that time, she would have been a goner.
    By the time she had decided to help pick up the books and papers, Mart had them gathered together and was striding away toward the bus stop, and Honey and one of the other B.W.G.’s, pretty, dark-haired Diana Lynch, were coming hurriedly toward her.
    “Hi! I thought you were going to spend the evening here!” Trixie greeted them. “Come on! We can catch the bus if we hurry. I’ve got something I want to tell you