The Marshland Mystery

be with you! I’m the only one he loves!” She was hugging the puppy so hard that he let out a small yip of distress and struggled to get away. “He’s mine!” She began to cry loudly and hugged him even tighter, in spite of his wriggling.
    Mrs. Belden hurried to Gaye and put her arms around the child. “It’s all right, dear. Trixie wasn’t trying to keep him. She brought him back to you.”
    “Then send her away!” Gaye demanded, glaring at Trixie defiantly. Mrs. Belden hastily motioned to Trixie to go.
    Trixie was annoyed. The little monster! And after she had practically saved the puppy’s life! She turned away with a frown and almost bumped into Mart and Brian, who were watching the scene with amused grins.
    “Dognapping, hey? What next?” Mart teased. “And from such a sweet little girl!” He wrinkled his nose at Trixie and grinned.
    “If you want to know,” Trixie told him with great dignity, “I probably saved his yippy little life.”
    “From being squeezed to death?” Brian smiled.
    “No. From a copperhead,” Trixie told him. And both boys sobered at once as she explained.
    “Good girl,” Brian said grimly. “We’ll take care of Mr. Copperhead tomorrow. Meanwhile, keep Bobby out of the orchard.”
    Behind them, Miss Crandall’s voice came sharply. “Stop the sniveling at once, or I’ll send that dog to a boarding kennel tomorrow. I won’t have you getting all worked up when you have a concert to give!”
    Gaye wailed loudly. “Please, Aunt Della! I won’t cry. Don’t take him away! Please!”
    “Poor kid!” Brian muttered under his breath.
    The three of them watched Miss Crandall take the puppy out of Gaye’s clinging arms and hand him to the governess. “Put him in the car till we’re ready to go.” Gaye screamed after the governess, “Don’t let anybody touch him!”
    “Recognize the little princess yet?” Mart grinned.
    Trixie nodded. “I just this minute remembered. I saw her picture on a poster in front of the Music Hall last week when Mrs. Wheeler took Honey and me to hear the string quartet. She’s Gaye Hunya, and she’s going to play the violin there next Saturday.”
    “Not just ‘play the violin,’ Trix,” Brian told her. “Our temperamental little friend is to appear as guest soloist with the symphony. And she gave a recital at Carnegie Hall when she was only five years old. Her father was a famous European violinist.”
    “Well, bully for her!” Mart said dryly. “Too bad she isn’t a singer instead of a fiddler. She can scream loud enough when she wants to!”
    “What a life she must lead,” Brian said thoughtfully. Trixie stared at him, puzzled. He sounded as if he were actually sorry for the little prodigy. “I should think it would be simply super to be famous and have thousands of people buying tickets to hear you.”
    “It’s also hard work,” Mart reminded her, “which would not be so popular with you!”
    “I work just as hard as you do, Mart Belden,” Trixie retorted. “All you do is a few chores and exercise the Wheeler horses. And I do that and a lot more—taking care of Bobby when Moms is busy and doing the dishes and everything else!”
    “For which you collect handsomely, to the extent of five legal simoleons per week. Pretty neat!” Mart gibed.
    “Most of which she puts into the B.W.G. treasury,” Brian reminded him, with a mischievous sparkle in his dark eyes. “Not like some people I could mention.”
    Mart’s color flared. “Just because I held out two measly dollars last week—” he exploded. Then he saw that they were both laughing, and he grinned with them. “I had to buy Dad a new tie because I spilled catsup on the one I borrowed from him, and it wasn’t washable.”
    “Washable catsup. Now, that’s something I haven’t seen yet. Have you, Trixie?” Brian teased.
    Trixie giggled. She was enjoying herself because Brian was giving Mart the same kind of teasing that her almost-twin usually gave her.
    “Trixie! Will you come here?” her mother called. She still had her arm around Gaye’s shoulders and was starting toward the house with the little girl and her aunt and the other two women.
    “Okay, Moms,” Trixie called. Then hastily she asked Brian, “Did Mart tell you about what we’re going to do tomorrow?”
    Brian nodded. “I’ll draw you kids a map so you won’t end up in the Hudson River instead of Martin’s Marsh. Wish we could drive you there, but we’re tied up. Mart told you