The Secret of the Mansion Read online

  "Of course. Regan's like your mother," she said, laughing. "He never says anything he doesn't mean."

  Jim answered their whistle from the barn and came out dragging the ladder. "I got the window open the first thing this morning," he told them. "But I put the ladder away in case somebody came snooping around."

  Trixie told him then that Mr. Lytell had seen the smoke from his fire. "That's one more reason why we should find that will right away," she finished. "He may come up here, after all, to investigate."

  "That's true," Jim said thoughtfully. "And I suppose there must be a will somewhere. Or at least a deed to the property. Of course, it may be mortgaged to the hilt."

  ,,Have you looked around up there already?" Trixie asked.

  Jim grinned. "No, I knew you'd have a fit if I didn't wait for you. Anyway, it's so dark I couldn't have seen anything."

  Trixie handed him a second flashlight that she had picked up in the garage.

  "I don't see why this house hasn't got electric lights," Honey remarked. "If Mr. Frayne was as rich as he, was supposed to be, you'd think he would have had the place wired."

  "It's wired all right," Jim said as he started up the ladder, "but he probably had the current shut off at the time that he went into retirement. That's why there's no running water, either. The pump in the basement runs by electricity." At the top of the ladder, Jim Played the flashlight around inside the house. "This Was somebody's bedroom," he called down to the girls. "My aunt's, I guess, and it doesn't look as though it's been touched since the day she died." He disappeared through the window.

  "I'll hold the ladder for you, Trixie," Honey offered. "After what happened to Jim yesterday, I wouldn't climb up this rickety old thing for all the treasure in the world."

  When Trixie hoisted herself over the window sill, she turned on her own torch. She found herself in what had once been a luxurious bedroom, but the dusty silk drapes were hanging in shreds from the rusty rods, and the bedspread had almost completely rotted away. Squirrels and field mice had played havoc with the rich upholstery of the furniture, and strips of faded wallpaper were crumbling to a yellow powder on the floor. In the long, glass-doored closet were the discolored remnants of a woman's wardrobe, fashionable More than ten years ago.

  "It's really a crime," Trixie said to Jim, "that your uncle let this place go to rack and ruin. Why, if that Oriental rug hadn't been eaten to pieces by moths, it would be absolutely priceless."

  She followed him through a connecting bath into the master bedroom. The beautiful mahogany of the huge four-poster bed was white with mold, and spider webs almost completely covered the Chippendale desk in one corner of the room. They peered into the closets and drawers and shook their heads over the moth-eaten suits and the shirts and underclothing which nesting rodents had gnawed to rags.

  I don't get it," Trixie said in an awed voice. "The only time I ever saw your uncle he was wearing such a funny-looking, patched outfit he looked like a scarecrow.

  Jim played his light along the rows of empty bookshelves and stopped to stare a moment at the dried-up body of a baby bird in the ashes of the fireplace. I guess the desk is our best bet," he said as he combed away the cobwebs with a coat-hanger.

  Trixie hung excitedly over his shoulder and sighed in disappointment when he pulled down the flap. There was nothing but dust in the pigeonholes, and the drawers were empty except for a few rusty penpoints and paper clips.

  I imagine that's the answer," Jim said, pointing his torch to the ashes in the grate. "He must have burned everything before he boarded up the staircase."

  I won't give up," Trixie said stubbornly, "until we've looked into every nook and cranny of this floor and the attic."

  But there was nothing of value in either the guest rooms or the sewing room, and the low-ceilinged attic was completely bare. At the end of a hot, dusty, discouraging hour even Trixie was willing to give up.

  "No will, no nothing," she told Honey as she climbed backward down the ladder. I guess that crazy old miser must have burned everything."

  "You were up there so long I was beginning to be afraid something had happened. Be careful of that missing rung," Honey cautioned.

  Jim appeared at the window with a big, black book in his hand. I thought I might as well bring this old Bible along," he said as he started down. "It was on a bedside table in one of the guest rooms. I haven't any other family possessions except my mug, so I don't think Uncle James would mind my having it."

  "Watch out for the broken place," both Trixie and Honey cried together. And then they dodged as the heavy Bible slipped from Jim's hand and hurtled past their heads. A piece of paper flew from the pages of the book and landed at Trixie's feet. She leaned over to pick it up.

  "Golly, golly!" she shouted. "It's a will, Jim. The will!"

  Jed Tomlin's Colt

  Trixie handed the yellowed legal paper to Jim. "Read it quickly," she begged. "Are you the heir? The sole heir?"

  Jim read the will carefully before he answered. "Yes, I am, if this is the latest will. It's only a copy. It says here that a Mr. George Rainsford is the executor; so I imagine he has the original. Do you know who he is, Trixie?"

  Trixie shook her head. "Never heard of him."

  "He might very well be dead by now," Jim said. "This will was drawn up right after my aunt died when Uncle James was still rich."

  "I still think he is rich," Trixie said firmly.

  "Well," Jim said slowly, "the only person who would know about that would be Mr. Rainsford."

  "George Rainsford," Honey repeated to herself. "That name sounds sort of familiar to me."

  Jim slipped the will back into the Bible with a rueful chuckle. "I'm heir apparent to ten thousand dollars' worth of land, but it won't do me any good until I'm twenty-one. There won't be anything left by then-,see to that. If only I could have got here a day Jonesy", Uncle James would, at least, have told me earlier! Mr. Rainsford is still alive, and he might when they've tried to have another guardian appointed." even h; 't give up hope," Honey begged. "Your uncle D isn't d ad Yet- Maybe he'll pull through after all."

  "I doubt it. Not at his age. But I'll stick around here a few more days, just in case."

  Trixie felt a huge lump rising in her throat. "And Th-" then she got out. "And then I'll start looking for a job." The boy's broad shoulders drooped disconsolately. "There goes college aria fly dream, but it can't be helped. I wouldn't live another ,year with Jonesy for all the money in the world." "you mustn't quit school now!" Honey was on the verb a of tears. "Please wait till Dad gets back from Canada next week, and let me tell him the whole story. Maybe- bi3 lawyers can do something."

  "I Wouldn't risk it," Jim said soberly. "The first thing ther would feel he had to do would be to notify Jonesy. then I'd be right back where I started." he turned away as though he wanted to be alone with his problem, and the girls started down the ladder.

  "We've got to do something," Trixie said mournfully.

  "I hate to think of Jim wandering around the country without any money. And I'm not too sure he can get a job at a boys' camp without his stepfather's permission. Dad wrote several letters and went to see the head of the camp where Brian and Mart are before it was all settled."

  "I know," Honey agreed. "Jim realizes that. And you know what? He told me if he had any trouble, he'd get a job on a cattle boat. If he does that, we may never see him again." She sighed. "I like Jim an awful lot, Trixie. I like him just as much as if he were my own brother. I wish we could fix things so Dad could adopt him."

  "I wish so, too." She tossed a pebble into the woods. "I think we ought to keep right on looking for that money. I've got one of your premonitions about it. I'm sure it's there somewhere, and I don't think Jim really looked hard, enough, because he doesn't believe in it."

  "He couldn't possibly have gone through every one of those boxes and barrels in such a short time," Honey agreed. "Let's all give the downstairs another thorough search tomorrow."

  "Gre
at!" Trixie waved good-by as Honey got on her bicycle. "Have fun on your ride this afternoon." "Thanks," Honey called over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

  Trixie's parents were upstairs with Bobby when she got home. From the downstairs hall, Trixie could hear her father's voice droning on and on, so she guessed that he was probably reading Bobby to sleep.

  While Trixie stood there listening, her mother came quietly down the stairs with a tray of empty dishes. "Sh-h," she whispered to Trixie as they went out into the kitchen. "Bobby's had his lunch, and I think he'll fall asleep in a few minutes. A good long nap would do him a world of good."

  Trixie nodded. "If anyone can read him to sleep, it's Dad. I can remember when I was Bobby's age and had mumps and measles, he used to tell me stories or read to me. His voice is so soothing, I used to fall into sort of a stupor right away, although I tried like anything not to." She gave her mother an impulsive hug. "Oh, Moms, I'm so glad I was born into this family. I feel so sorry for people like Honey and Ji-" She stopped herself just in time, and added hastily: "Honey just never seems to have any fun with her father and mother the way Bobby and Brian and Mart and I do. I'm so glad we're not rich."

  "So am L" Mrs. Belden said with a smile. "It's much more fun to work for the things you want than to have them given to you on a silver platter. Speaking of which," she added with a chuckle, "will you rinse and dry our silver platter? Dad will be down in a few minutes to carve the turkey."

  "Yummy-yum," Trixie said sniffing. "It smells dee-licious, Moms. I hope you put a lot of onions in the stuffing."

  "I did," Mrs. Belden said as she took a big green glass bowl from the cupboard. "Let's not bother with cooked vegetables. If we eat all we want of the turkey and stuffing we won't have room for more than a tossed green salad."

  "Yummy-yum," Trixie said again, in full agreement. "You fix that special salad dressing of yours, Moms, and I'll slice tomatoes and peppers and leeks and shred the lettuce."

  "Fine," Mrs. Belden said. "We make a good team, Trixie. While we work, please tell me more about your new friend. I'm very interested in Honey. I think she's a lovely girl, but, of course, I don't know her as well as you do."

  "She is just lovely in every way," Trixie cried enthusiastically. "I wasn't crazy about her at first, Moms. I thought she was a sissy. But she isn't. She's scared and nervous about a lot of things because she isn't used to living in the country. I mean, she's sure that every ropelike vine is a snake and all leaves are poison ivy, and things like that. And, of course, not having had any brothers makes an awful difference." Trixie scooped the core and seeds out of a big green pepper and began to slice it on the wooden chopping board. "I guess I never realized before," she said thoughtfully, "how important brothers are. Brian and Mart drive me wild sometimes because they're forever teasing me, and Bobby, well, he's darling but he can be an-an-"

  "An awful nuisance," Mrs. Belden finished cheerfully. "But, Trixie, if you ever had to be separated from him for very long, you'd find that you missed him dreadfully. Brian and Mart have found that out while they've been at camp. With every letter they write me they enclose a note full of funny drawings for Bobby."

  "I know," Trixie said. "Oh, Moms, let's not tell them about Bobby and the copperhead. Brian and Mart would just die from worry, and the worst is over now. He really is going to be all right, isn't he, Moms?"

  "He's-fine," Trixie's mother said emphatically. "And all due to you, Trixie. No. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to keep Bobby's accident a secret from Brian and Mart, Trixie. I'm going to write them a long letter telling them what an important part you played. They'll be very proud of you."

  Trixie's father came tiptoeing into the kitchen then.

  "Whew!" he sighed, "I thought His Royal Highness would never give up and close those big blue eyes of his." He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and then he deftly transferred the turkey from the oven pan to the gleaming silver platter. He winked at Trixie and said, "If there's one thing I like better than turkey with your mother's onion stuffing, it's more turkey with more stuffing. Let's eat right here in the kitchen."

  "I'd like that," Mrs. Belden said gaily. "And I'm sure Trixie would, too. She's going to have to clean up when we leave for our drive and listen every now and then at the bottom of the stairs, too, to make sure Bobby is still asleep. I'm all in favor of saving unnecessary steps during an emergency like this."

  She and Trixie set the kitchen table while Mr. Belden carved. It was much more cozy than eating in the dining-room, and in between mouthfuls, Trixie told her parents about her riding lessons.

  "Regan says I'm doing very well," she finished. "Honey told me this morning that he'd probably let me do some lumping in another couple of weeks.

  "Fine," her father said-"but don't rush things, Trixie. We don't want another invalid around here until

  Bobby is back on his feet." He grinned. 'Although I suppose that imp is really less trouble when he's in bed than he is when he's running around loose, getting into mischief every step he takes."

  "For your sake, Trixie," Mrs. Belden added, "I hope Bobby sleeps all afternoon. But if he does wake up around three, you might give him some pineapple juice and a few cookies. He didn't eat much lunch." She went upstairs then to take off her cotton house frock and don a cool, white sharkskin suit.

  "I want your mother to get a change of scene," Mr. Belden said to Trixie. "Bobby has kept her pretty tied down. We'll drive up the river and have tea somewhere on the road. It'll do her good."

  "I know," Trixie agreed as she rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the sink. "Don't hurry back, Dad. I'll keep Bobby good and quiet. After we've read the comics we can cut out the animals and play games with them. He likes that."

  Trixie waved good-by to her parents from the terrace, then she tidied up the kitchen, washed and dried the dishes. She had hardly finished putting the last fork away in the silver drawer when Bobby woke up and yelled at the top of his lungs:

  "I'm thirsty-and hung-gry! Help!"

  "Okay, Bobby," Trixie called up to him. "I'll be with you in a sec." Hastily she put a glass of pineapple juice and a plate of chocolate cookies on a tray and hurried upstairs.

  Bobby greeted her with a fretful frown. "Straws," he said disdainfully. "You know I have to have straws." Trixie laughed. "Here's a whole box of colored straws which your friend, Miss Trask, sent you. Red, green, blue, yellow, every color in the rainbow, Bobby. Take your choice."

  Bobby squealed with delight. "I'll take a orange one and a labbender one," he said happily. "Labbender is sometimes almost always my very favorite color."

  As he munched cookies and sipped the ice-cold juice, Bobby insisted upon hearing what Trixie and Honey had discovered up at the old Mansion.

  "Nothing much," Trixie replied evasively. "The rooms are all filled with piles of junk. You can see it through the windows," she added quickly, so that Bobby wouldn't guess they had gone inside the house. You never could tell how long Bobby could keep a secret, and Trixie wasn't at all sure, now, that her father would approve of her having climbed in through the window that first day. "He'd probably give me the dickens," she reflected, "even though I did it just to lock up the place."

  She picked up Peter Rabbit and began to read, but Bobby interrupted.

  "What'd you want the flashlight for, Trixie?" he demanded suspiciously. "Did you find a pirate's cave or something?"

  Trixie laughed. "No, of course not, Bobby. Don't you want me to read?"

  Bobby shook his head up and down. "Well, then, stop interrupting."

  "I want to know why you borrowed my flashlight," the little boy insisted, his red lips beginning to pout. "You said it was my see-crud and your see-crud, but you won't tell me anything!"

  Trixie sighed. "All right, but you've got to promise to keep this secret."

  "I always keep see-cruds," Bobby boasted.

  "Oh, no, you don't," Trixie corrected him. "Remember when I showed you the present I got for Mummy last Christmas? You promised not to
let her guess what it was, so I could surprise her, and then that night when she was hearing you say your prayers, you said, 'And please, God, don't let me tell Mummy that Trixie bought her bedroom slippers for Christmas."'

  "That was different," Bobby said, squirming with embarrassment. "I was just a little boy then. I'm all growed up now."

  "Well, then," Trixie went on reluctantly, "I'll tell you what we discovered. The old summerhouse. It's all covered over with vines and branches. When you're well, I'll take you up there and show it to you."

  Bobby flung himself back on the pillows, sulking with disappointment. "What's so 'citing about an old summerhouse?" he demanded petulantly. "Go on, read!"

  After Trixie had been reading for what seemed like hours, Bobby dropped off to sleep. During this short nap, Trixie fed and watered the chickens and gathered the eggs. She was putting them away when her parents returned.

  "Sh-h," she cautioned them. "The Little King is asleep. I'm practically hoarse from reading to him, but he was as good as gold."

  Mrs. Belden smiled. "He's always good with you, Trixie. That is, when you don't lose your patience, as you sometimes do."

  Mr. Belden patted Trixie's shoulder approvingly. "Keep on the way you're going, Trixie," he said, "and you'll surely have a horse next year. We ran into Jed Tomlin at the Happen Inn where we stopped for tea. He said he's got a nice young colt he wants to sell next spring after he's broken and schooled it. How would you like that?"

  "Oh, Dad!" Trixie almost dropped the egg she was holding- "Will he want an awful lot of money for his horse? Do you think I can earn enough by next summer?"

  "I wouldn't be at all surprised," her father said, his eyes twinkling. "I'm delighted our new neighbors are being so generous with their horses and giving you a chance to learn to ride. Brian and Mart, of course, learned at camp. So I imagine that even if you didn't earn enough to buy the Tomlin colt yourself, you could interest your brothers in sharing in the purchase."

  Trixie was so excited at the prospect of a horse on Crabapple Farm she could hardly eat her dinner, and it was a long time after she had gone to bed before she fell asleep. "I'll earn the money for the colt myself," she kept saying over and over. "He'll be as strong and fast as Jupiter, and although I'll let Brian and Mart ride him sometimes, he won't really like anyone but me."