The Mystery of the Emeralds

you say?” she asked, munching absent-mindedly on a cookie. “I wasn’t listening.”
    Brian repeated the question, wondering why his sister was so preoccupied—and with what.
    “So far as I know, it is,” Trixie said. “Remember, we closed up just before we went to Cobbett’s Island. The place will probably need a good airing out. Whoever gets there first, open all the windows.” With this, she was off, leaving a half-eaten cookie on her plate.
    “I wish I had that child’s energy,” Mrs. Belden sighed as she brushed the crumbs from the red-cheeked tablecloth.
    “She’s certainly got more pep than I have, after cleaning up that old bam,” Mart commented, “but she’s acting so funny and vague. I’ll bet she’s got something mysterious cooking in that silly old head of hers. I wonder what?”
    Mart, of course, could not know about the letter Trixie had found, which by now had filled her mind with curiosity. As she was undressing, she took it from her pocket and had her first real look at it. It was addressed to Mrs. John Sunderland, The Homestead, Croton-on-Hudson. The paper was old and brittle, folded and held by a wax seal. Her first impulse was to read it right then and there, but she decided to save time and wait until she was on her way to Honey’s house.
    She quickly showered and put on a clean pair of shorts and a matching blue blouse. She took only long enough to run a comb through her short, curly hair, at the same time scowling into the mirror as she looked at her nose, which was peeling from a new sunburn. Then she set out for the Manor House.
    As soon as she was out of sight of Crabapple Farm, Trixie opened the letter, being careful not to break the seal but only to pry it away from the paper. Before she had time to read it, she heard the sound of horses’ hooves, and Honey and Jim came into view, calling to her as they rode down the lane toward her.
    “It turned out to be such a marvelous day, we thought we’d give the horses some exercise,” Honey said as she reined Starlight up beside Trixie. “They missed us while we were at Cobbett’s Island. Starlight was so frisky, I could hardly hold her.”
    “Here, jump up behind me, and I’ll give you a free ride to the club,” Jim said as he offered Trixie a hand. “I think this noble steed can carry us both.”
    “I’m not so sure!” Trixie laughingly replied. “I’m full of Moms’s cookies and gallons of milk, and I must weigh a ton. Besides, I want to show you something before we go on.”
    “A letter?” asked Honey, catching sight of the paper in Trixie’s hand. “Who’s it from?”
    Jim and Honey dismounted, and, leaving the horses to graze along the roadside, they perched on the post-and-rail fence that surrounded the Wheeler estate.
    “I found it this morning when Moms and I were cleaning out the attic, and I haven’t had a chance to read it yet,” Trixie said.
    “In the attic!” Jim exclaimed. “Who’s it from?”
    “Hurry up! What are we waiting for?” Honey urged as Trixie unfolded the letter.
    There were two pages, written in small but very legible script. At the top of the first sheet was an embossed crest, identical to the one imprinted in the wax. The words Lux et Pax underneath it, which had not been clear on the seal, were now easy to read.
    “Sounds like a new kind of soap, doesn’t it?” chuckled Trixie. “What does it mean, Jim?”
    Jim, the oldest of the Bob-Whites, was an excellent student, and since Latin had been part of his college preparatory course, it was easy for him to translate the words.
    “It means ‘Light and Peace,’ ” he said. “I like that! It would make a good motto for my school, wouldn’t it?” Jim’s dream was to start a school for homeless boys when he finished college.
    Trixie started reading:

    “ ‘Rosewood Hall
    “‘June 27th
    “ ‘Dearest Sister,
    “‘What an age it seems since your visit, when actually it has been less than a year. I started several times to talk to you while you were here about my deep concern over the growing dissension between the North and the South, but I could not bring myself to spoil the pleasure of your stay with unhappy thoughts. Since you left, my apprehension has increased daily. What may happen to Rosewood, my husband, and my child, no one knows, but my intuition tells me there is bound to be a long, hard struggle ahead.
    “‘Because I am a Northerner, people here have always treated me with a certain coolness,