The Marshland Mystery

didn’t know how she felt. I was being stern with her for her own sake. There’s a reason—”
    “You don’t have to explain, Miss Crandall,” Trixie interrupted hurriedly. “I’m sorry I was so outspoken.”
    “No, you were right to tell me. But I want you to know why I was so strict. You see, her father—my only brother—was a great violinist. But he was undisciplined all his life, and he died in poverty. I made up my mind Gaye would have something that couldn’t be wasted when she grew up. Every cent she has made, except for our expenses, is in a trust fund for her. She’ll never be penniless.”
    “Maybe if you told her...” Honey said softly. She was remembering how she and her mother had misunderstood each other before Trixie had come into their lives.
    “Someday, when she’s a little older, I will,” Miss
    Crandall said with a sigh. “Meanwhile, I’ve already canceled tonight’s recital. And now”—she looked at Trixie thoughtfully—“after talking to you, I intend to call off the rest of our tour. I want Gaye to have a long vacation, while we both learn to be a real family and not just an artist and her manager.” She smiled fleetingly. “You see, I really love my niece, though I haven’t shown her so, I’m afraid.”
    The bedroom door opened then, and Miss Rachel came out, smiling. “The child is going to be all right,” she told Miss Crandall. “The tea has broken her fever.”
    “I’d like to see my niece,” Miss Crandall said humbly. “She has been asking for you,” Miss Rachel told her. “Please go in.” And she stood aside as Miss Crandall hurried into the bedroom and closed the door.
    “I think she may want to stay till Gaye can be moved,” Miss Rachel told them. “So perhaps you children had better start for home before the rain gets any worse.”
    “But some customers might come—” Trixie began. “Not a chance,” Brian said from the front doorway. “We barely got through. I’m afraid the sale is a big flop, Miss Rachel.”
    Miss Rachel gave a deep sigh. “I suppose it’s all for the best, after all. Even if a lot of people had come, they might have bought only a couple of the pieces. It would only have put off for a short time my going to the Home.”
    And since they had no argument to offer to that, the disappointed little group of Bob-Whites soon left for their homes, promising to come the next morning to help her move her things to storage and herself to the Home, where a place would be waiting for her.
    That night Trixie was wide-awake and restless half the night, trying to think of some way to help Miss Rachel escape what seemed to be her inevitable fate.
    When she couldn’t sleep by midnight, she took the brass box down from the shelf and stole downstairs with it. Might as well be busy doing something , instead of fussing and worrying , she thought. The box’s dullness had bothered her. She would shine it up.
    She set to work on it and was startled to see the dull, brassy look disappear under the polish. A rich golden glow took its place. “It’s almost like gold,” she thought aloud. And then, as she tried to pry a small dark spot off the polished surface with the end of a nail file, her hand slipped, and the file made a deep scratch in the cover. The metal seemed very soft. It might really be gold!
    Trixie felt sudden excitement. She rubbed harder with the polish. “What if it is real gold?” she wondered. And she said at once, “Dad might know!”
    In a flash she was out of the kitchen and running up the stairs to her parents’ room. “Dad!” she called softly. “Please, there’s something important!”
    “Come in, Trixie!” Her father and mother were sitting by the window enjoying the moonlight that had followed the heavy rain. “What’s bothering you at this hour?”
    “My box! I’m almost sure it’s gold, not brass! Won’t you please come and see?”
    “But it can’t be gold, dear. Didn’t Miss Rachel say it was brass?” her mother asked gently.
    “She didn’t say what it was. I don’t think she’d know, because it belonged to her great-grandfather, and it came
    fromChina. Oh, Dad, please come and look at it!”
    “We’ll both come,” he agreed. “I need a glass of milk, anyway, so the effort won’t be wasted.”
    They followed Trixie as she dashed back downstairs to the kitchen. She pointed triumphantly to the box. “Look!”
    “Goodness!” Mrs. Belden stared at the shining box in