The Secret of the Mansion Read online

  Understanding Regan

  The next morning, Honey came down to the hollow right after breakfast. She was so excited that she burst right into the kitchen without knocking.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," she cried, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment when she realized what she had done.

  "Sorry for what?" demanded Trixie who was alone in the kitchen.

  "For forgetting to knock," Honey explained. "I don't know what's come over me lately, Trixie." She giggled. "I seem to have forgotten all the good manners Miss Lefferts taught me."

  "Pooh," Trixie said impatiently. "I don't know who Miss Lefferts is--or was, but I think you would have been awfully silly to knock when you could see me right through the screen door. People in the country don't bother much about knocking, anyway. We usually open the door, poke our heads inside and yell, 'Yoo-hoo.'"

  Honey's giggle changed into loud laughter. "What's so funny?" Trixie brought the breakfast cups to the sink and frowned at Honey.

  "Oh, oh," Honey chortled. "If anybody did that in New York City-why-oh," she interrupted herself, still shaking with laughter, "you couldn't anyway. Not in the apartment house we lived in. Even if you managed to sneak by the doorman and the elevator boy, you couldn't open a door and poke your head inside. People in New York always keep their doors locked. At least people who lived in our apartment did."

  "Sounds like prison," Trixie said, still frowning.

  "It was, sort of," Honey admitted. "I mean, I used to ride up and down in the elevator day after day with the same people and they never spoke to me, even though we were neighbors, living on the same floor. Sometimes they would smile, but as for yelling 'Yoo-hoo'-" she went off into gales of laughter.

  Trixie couldn't help laughing, too. Finally she sobered. "What you mean is that if we'd been neighbors in a big city we might never have met?"

  Honey shook her head up and down. "And wouldn't that have been awful? Maybe not for you, but for me." "For me, too," Trixie said emphatically. "I have lots

  of friends who live in Sleepyside, but I hardly ever see them during the summer. They seem to forget that I'm alive when school closes. And the funny thing is, Honey," she added frankly, "although I've known those girls since we started in kindergarten together I don't like any of them half as much as I like you."

  Honey gulped and looked as though she were going to go from laughter to tears. -you-you," she stammered, then quickly recovered her poise. "I just love you, and Jim, too. I wish you could have been with us yesterday on our ride. He's simply marvelous."

  "I'll bet he is," Trixie said. "Tell me all about it while I wash these dishes."

  "Let me help." Honey grabbed a dish towel off the rack and pulled a tall stool to the sink. "Oh, I forgot. Regan sent Bobby a present." She reached into the pocket of her jeans and brought out a small box. When she lifted the cover Trixie couldn't help letting out a little yell of surprise. The box was filled to the brim with tiny plastic horses-black ones and red ones and yellow ones. Some of them were trotting, some of them were galloping, and some of them were rearing with manes and tails flowing.

  "I never saw anything so cute in my life," Trixie cried. "They must have cost a fortune! Bobby will adore them. It was darling of Regan to remember him."

  "That's Regan for you," Honey said, carefully slipping the box back in her pocket. "He loves kids of all ages. One reason is because he didn't have a very happy childhood himself, I guess. He doesn't say much about it, but I couldn't help getting the impression that he had a pretty hard time while he was growing up."

  "Maybe that's why he's so good to us, too," Trixie said as she handed Honey another plate.

  Mrs. Belden appeared then with a trayful of dishes which she had just carried down from Bobby's room. "Good morning, Honey," she said. "I'm glad you dropped in. Wouldn't you like to run up and say hello to Bobby? It would cheer him up a lot. I've just given him a bath and dressed him in clean pajamas. He's ready for visitors."

  "I'd love to," Honey said enthusiastically. "I have a present for him from Regan." She darted off.

  Trixie took the tray from her mother and said, "I'll do these. Honey will help. She'll help with the gardening, too, I know. We won't leave until all the chores are done, Moms."

  "Well, thank you, Trixie," Mrs. Belden said, sinking tiredly into the nearest chair. "Keeping Bobby quietly in bed is a fulltime job, but I want you to have fun, too. Do whatever you think is most important in the garden. Then you and Honey run along and forget about chores until lunchtime." She gathered up her knitting bag, some magazines and went back upstairs.

  In another minute Honey joined Trixie in the kitchen. "Bobby is so cute," she said enviously. "I'd give anything in the world for a little brother like that. And an older brother like Jim would be marvelous, too. He's really an expert horseman. He rides like a centaur. I mean, when he swings into the saddle it looks as though he and the horse were one. Jupiter behaved like a lamb yesterday-and you know Jupe ."

  "I certainly do," Trixie admitted ruefully. "I suppose Jim rode him with a snaffle bit and had him eating out of his hand."

  "Well, not exactly," Honey said. "But Jim never had to use the curb. He talked to Jupe for a while before he mounted him, and they seemed to understand each other perfectly. Then we left the woods and rode across country through the fields, jumping fences and little brooks. It was the best ride I ever had. I wish you could have been with us."

  "I don't know how to jump yet," Trixie reminded her. "So I couldn't have kept up with you. Am I going to have another lesson today?"

  "This afternoon," Honey said. "And be careful when you talk to Regan, Even though I gave both horses a rubdown yesterday when I brought them back, I think Regan suspects something. Both saddle blankets were soaked with sweat, you know, and I couldn't do anything about that but let Regan think you and I had a short ride in the corral on Lady and Strawberry."

  "I'll be careful," Trixie promised.

  Honey helped her finish all the breakfast dishes, and then they went down to the garden. Trixie showed her how to hill up the potato vines, and, after an hour's work, they climbed the path to the Miser's Mansion.

  "We're going to have one last look around," Trixie told Jim. "Why don't you take this flashlight and see what you can find in the cellar?"

  Honey took the other flashlight and carefully inspected the shelves, cupboards, and closets while Trixie went through the stacks of books. "Mr. Frayne might have cut out the pages of one of them," she said, "and hid the money in there. Other people have done that."

  They kept at it till lunchtime, and they were all completely discouraged. Jim washed up at the well and hungrily munched the cold turkey leg Trixie had brought him.

  "There's just one other place," he said between mouthfuls. "The summerhouse. Now that I've got a flashlight, I can look in there for a trap door or something."

  "That's right," Trixie encouraged him. "But I still have a feeling the money, or whatever it is, is in the living-room."

  "Well, you're welcome to keep on searching through all that junk as long as you want to. I've given up. Either there isn't any money, or it's hidden too well for me to find it." He grinned. "I even went through that barrel of bottle tops this morning. What a mess that was!"

  The girls went home for lunch then, and, after Trixie had read Bobby to sleep, she hurried up to the Wheelers' stable.

  Regan said nothing about his suspicions during the lesson, but afterward, when the girls were helping him groom the horses, he said casually, "Thought that big old rambling house on the other hill was empty."

  "It is," Trixie said quickly. "It belongs to old Mr. Frayne, and he's dying in the hospital."

  "Huh." Regan pretended to be very busy with his curry-comb. "I've got a pretty good view of that place from my room over the garage," he said as though he were talking to himself. "Could have sworn I saw somebody roaming around there this morning. Matter of fact, was pretty sure that two of the three kids I saw were you girls."

  Tri
xie and Honey stared at each other behind his back but said nothing. After a long, nerve-wracking silence, Regan began again. "Ran away from an orphan-age myself when I was about that redheaded boy's age. Never regretted it, either. Was crazy over horses and finally got a job at a riding school. Learned a lot there," he went on reminiscently. "Learned enough, anyway, so I can tell right off whether a horse has been ridden or not." He straightened up to face them, his eyes twinkling. "Now Jupe here, he had a good gallop yesterday afternoon. Know neither one of you girls could have given him such a workout. Figure that redheaded kid knows how to handle a horse."

  Trixie held her breath, not daring to look at Honey. Regan gave Jupiter an affectionate slap. "I don't have much time to give you the proper amount of exercise with the boss away, do I, old boy? I'm not likely to say anything if Miss Honey, every now and then, takes you along when she goes off on Strawberry." He laughed. "Some people might think it peculiar that she bothers to saddle and bridle you when nobody's going to ride you, but me, I don't aim to ask any questions. There's just one thing, though. Trixie's got to promise to stick to Lady till I say the word. We'd all get into a lot of trouble if anything happened to Jupe." He placed his hands on his hips, grinning. "Is it a deal, girls?"

  "Oh, yes," they both cried together.

  "We'd like to tell you about it, Regan," Honey added, "but we promised not to. I think you're simply swell to trust us."

  "Well, that's that, then." Regan led Jupiter into his stall. "If the kid should get into any trouble, you might let me know. It wasn't so very long ago that I was hiding out in barns myself, wondering where the next meal was coming from."

  He strolled nonchalantly out of the stable, and Trixie gasped, "Gee, he's great, isn't he, Honey? It was sure lucky nobody else in your house saw us. What a break!"

  "Miss Trask's a good sport, too," Honey said loyally. "But I'm not sure what she'd do if she knew Jim had run away from home."

  "She's swell," Trixie agreed. "But I bet she'd feel she ought to tell the police or try to talk Jim into going back."

  "Let's surprise Jim by leading Jupe up to him tomorrow morning," Honey broke in. "We can ride through the bridle trails on the other side of Glen Road. Dad says it's a lovely ride, and if there are any gates we can open them for you, or you can ride around them."

  "That would be wonderful," Trixie cried enthusiastically. "And sometime before Jim goes, let's go) for a moonlight ride. The moon's almost full now, so it would be as light as day. Do you think Regan would let us?" "I'm pretty sure he would," Honey said. "I have a feeling he must have seen Jim and me out riding yesterday afternoon. That's why he's so sure Jim can handle Jupiter. Regan went off in the Ford, you know, and he might have been driving along the back roads and seen us galloping through the fields beyond our property."

  "Anyway," Trixie interrupted, "let's bring our lunches tomorrow and have a picnic in the woods. Dad said I deserved a day off, and the garden's practically free of weeds now, so I think Moms would let me go."

  As Trixie waved good-by to Honey, she suddenly remembered that Mr. Lytell had said he was riding his old nag through the woods on the opposite side of the road when he saw smoke up at the Mansion. "Oh heck," she told herself. "That was early in the morning. By the time we start out, he'll be safely behind his counter in the store." She hurried along the path, because it was time to feed the chickens and she could see her father's car turning into the driveway. "And even if he should see Jim," she decided, "he won't know who he is. He couldn't possibly know everything!"

  A Night at the Manor House

  Trixie scattered a handful of grain around the chicken-yard and was relieved to notice that the water can did not need refilling. Her father joined her as she gathered eggs.

  "How many?" he asked. "Only seven," she said.

  "That's not too bad," he said. "The hens will start molting soon, and then we'll have to buy eggs until the pullets begin to lay." He pointed to a fat young cockerel that was greedily pecking the scratch. "He and his brother will make nice broilers for the weekend."

  Trixie grinned. "Yummy-yum, but it doesn't seem possible that those baby chicks we bought in March are ready to eat. It seems like yesterday that they were nothing but balls of yellow fluff and Bobby and I made up our minds that we'd never, never eat anything so cute."

  They strolled down the path to the terrace and Trixie asked, "How is Mr. Frayne, Dad? Did you stop at the hospital today?"

  Mr. Belden shook his head. "No, but I telephoned just before I left the bank. His condition is unchanged. I'm afraid the old gentleman hasn't a chance, Trixie. He was too undernourished, to begin with."

  "I just don't understand it," Trixie said. "With all that money, you'd think he would have eaten a square meal occasionally."

  "Nobody's sure that he did have any money," her father reminded her. "He may well have lost his entire fortune in bad investments, you know."

  "How about the property?" Trixie asked. "It's worth a thousand dollars an acre, isn't it?"

  "It may be heavily mortgaged," Mr. Belden said. "I'll inquire at the bank about that tomorrow. But even if it isn't mortgaged, Mr. Frayne may well have preferred starving to the risk of losing his land. A lot of people feel that way about their land, you know. They would rather die than sacrifice it."

  Trixie thought of the closets on the top floor of the Mansion that were filled with expensive clothes which had been allowed to rot into shreds. The moth-eaten rugs, alone, could have been sold at one time for enough money to have kept the old man supplied with plenty of food for many months. If he wouldn't sell anything in the house, she reflected, it stands to reason that he wouldn't part with a foot of his land. I'll bet Jim can count on a sure ten thousand dollars, anyway, when his uncle dies. "Tell me more about Mr. Frayne, Dad," she said, as they stretched out in two beach chairs on the terrace. "You know, what he was like before he got so queer." "He and his wife were a charming old couple," her father told her. "They were so kind to us when we first moved up here that I can never forget it, no matter how unneighborly he became later. Your mother and I have always thought that if only he'd had children, he wouldn't have become such a complete recluse when his wife died. He was very fond of children-they both were especially fond of little boys. Every time they went to the city they brought back presents for Brian and Mart. A big red express wagon one time, I remember. And when the boys had the chicken pox, both the Frayne's spent many hours every day reading stories to them, so your mother could get some rest."

  "Why, they were nice, weren't they?" Trixie said in surprise. Suddenly she hoped that Mr. Frayne wouldn't die. If he lived, she felt sure that he would adopt Jim. How wonderful that would be, she thought excitedly. And if Honey's parents would stay up here this winter, then we could all go to the same school and skate and ski together and ever thing!

  The whole prospect was so thrilling Trixie felt she had to share her hopes with Honey. Right after supper she raced up the hill to the Manor House. Honey was still at the dinner table. She and Miss Trask were being served baked Alaska in the big formal dining-room. A maid brought another crystal dish for Trixie, but she was so awed by the gleaming silver and glass and the tall candles that she could hardly eat the delicious dessert.

  "Maybe you'd like Honey to show you around the house," Miss Trask said when the maid brought in fingerbowls. "It's really a beautiful place; more of a showplace, right now, instead of a home. But we hope, with you and your brothers coming up here often, it'll get that lived-in feeling it needs."

  "This is the library," Honey said, leading the way to a long room the walls of which were lined from floor to ceiling with richly bound books. "Daddy's quite a collector, you know. There was never enough space in our New York apartment for him to display all his books, so this is just about his favorite room."

  "I never saw so many books in all my life," Trixie gasped. "He's got many more than there are in the village public library. You're lucky. You can do all your research work for school right here
at home." And that reminded her of why she had come up to see Honey.

  "Say," she went on, "do you think there's a chance of your staying up here all the year round? Did you speak to Miss Trask about it?"

  Honey nodded. "Yes, and she said she'd do everything she could to persuade Mother to keep the house open. Even if Daddy and Mother spend most of the winter in town, Miss Trask hopes she and I can stay here, so I can go to school with you and your brothers."

  "And Jim," Trixie interrupted. "Oh, I do hope Mr. Frayne lives and adopts him. We could all have such grand times together."

  "I'm keeping my fingers crossed," Honey said as they passed through the library into the enormous living-room. "It looks like a museum, doesn't it?" she asked as Trixie stared about her at the luxurious furniture and priceless paintings. "And that's just what it is. Nobody ever comes in here except to look. I wish Daddy had bought a country place like yours." Tears welled up suddenly in her wide hazel eyes. "They moved up here just for my sake, but they never asked me where I wanted to live."

  "Well, why didn't you come right out and tell them?" Trixie demanded impulsively. "Are you afraid of your parents, or something?"

  Honey rubbed her eyes with clenched fists. "Not exactly," she gulped. "Not of Daddy, anyway. He can be awfully sweet and sympathetic at times. But he's always so busy he's hardly ever at home, and when he is, Mother's always giving a party or dragging him out to one." She rubbed the toe of her shoe viciously into the thick pile of the heavy carpet. "I think Daddy would like living here if it weren't for Mother. She has to have people around her all the time. Not children, grownups. Mother doesn't like children, I guess."