worst tongue-lashings I’ve ever had in my life. He said that he himself had arranged with the committee for the purchase of the lambs; that they had been bought from the Schwarz brothers, who own a locker in Valley Park, just the way Mr. Gorman said; that if I said another word to anyone about the meat for the Rivervale High School barbecue having been stolen meat, he’d arrange proper censure. Boy, did he hand it to me!”
“But—but—you said they offered the lambs at a bargain,” Trixie said.
“They did. I was there when they did. I didn’t hear anyone call the men by name. I didn’t know them. I don’t hang around food lockers. But Mr. Gorman guessed who they were right away when we told him about it last night, remember? Boy, you certainly made a rumpus about nothing!”
“Why, Ned Schulz,” Trixie said, “how can you talk that way? You live here. You should have known. You should have told me.”
“I’ve only lived here a year. You must be some detective, suspecting everyone you see....”
“I just wish you could talk to the sheriff of Westchester County and the chief of police! They could tell you a few things about what I’ve done. Furthermore, what business would any honest men have going off into Walnut Woods that late at night and—”
“Ben said there are two roads that seem to go into Walnut Woods,” Ned said. “One is a dead-end road. I don’t know where the other one goes. The Schwarz brothers must have turned off at Army Post Road, and we lost them in the dark. They were the same men we bought the lambs from... the ones we started to follow in that truck.”
“It isn’t that truck I’m interested in anymore,” Trixie said. “There must be another one—one that’s been going down the other road to a hideout in Walnut Woods. You’ll find out, Ned Schulz... that was stolen meat that was used at the barbecue. Maybe the Schwarz brothers didn’t steal it. I suppose they didn’t. But what was to prevent them from buying it from some men who have been operating around here, stealing sheep and selling them cheap to lockers? Maybe the Schwarz brothers saw a chance to make a little easy money—”
“Trixie,” Ned said, “you knock me dead! You make up your mind to something, and nothing can change it. Right?”
“Just remember this, Ned. There’s something queer going on back there in that woods. And I intend to find out what it is.”
Jim’s and Brian’s skating redeemed the Bob-Whites. The crowd, too, had many complimentary things to say about Honey and Trixie’s performance.
Trixie’s mind wasn’t on any of it. “Tomorrow,” she thought, “and Saturday... that’s all the time left to solve the mystery for Uncle Andrew. I know I’m on the right track. I have to be!”
However, when the Bob-Whites had returned to Happy Valley Farm and eaten their dinner, something happened that drove all thought of the stolen sheep far from Trixie’s mind.
Poor Little Orphan • 12
MR. GORMAN WASN’T at the dinner table. Self-conscious about having made a third mistake, Trixie was glad of it. She wouldn’t have to listen to any more teasing. It had been bad enough having Mart and the other Bob-Whites keep reminding her that their trip the night before had just been another wild-goose chase.
I’d wish the earth could open and swallow me up, or that somehow I could vanish from here and find myself back at Crab apple Farm. I’d wish that, Trixie said to herself, except that I’m not going to quit now.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Jim offered quietly. “You’re dreaming, Trixie. Your mind must have been miles away.”
“Not really,” Trixie said. “I’m just sorry Honey and I had to put on that crazy performance at the skating rink this afternoon.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Jim assured her. “It wasn’t bad at all. It’s that Dot had to follow you right away. A person just can’t do everything perfectly...
“I know that, Jim. Wasn’t she
“But—but—you said they offered the lambs at a bargain,” Trixie said.
“They did. I was there when they did. I didn’t hear anyone call the men by name. I didn’t know them. I don’t hang around food lockers. But Mr. Gorman guessed who they were right away when we told him about it last night, remember? Boy, you certainly made a rumpus about nothing!”
“Why, Ned Schulz,” Trixie said, “how can you talk that way? You live here. You should have known. You should have told me.”
“I’ve only lived here a year. You must be some detective, suspecting everyone you see....”
“I just wish you could talk to the sheriff of Westchester County and the chief of police! They could tell you a few things about what I’ve done. Furthermore, what business would any honest men have going off into Walnut Woods that late at night and—”
“Ben said there are two roads that seem to go into Walnut Woods,” Ned said. “One is a dead-end road. I don’t know where the other one goes. The Schwarz brothers must have turned off at Army Post Road, and we lost them in the dark. They were the same men we bought the lambs from... the ones we started to follow in that truck.”
“It isn’t that truck I’m interested in anymore,” Trixie said. “There must be another one—one that’s been going down the other road to a hideout in Walnut Woods. You’ll find out, Ned Schulz... that was stolen meat that was used at the barbecue. Maybe the Schwarz brothers didn’t steal it. I suppose they didn’t. But what was to prevent them from buying it from some men who have been operating around here, stealing sheep and selling them cheap to lockers? Maybe the Schwarz brothers saw a chance to make a little easy money—”
“Trixie,” Ned said, “you knock me dead! You make up your mind to something, and nothing can change it. Right?”
“Just remember this, Ned. There’s something queer going on back there in that woods. And I intend to find out what it is.”
Jim’s and Brian’s skating redeemed the Bob-Whites. The crowd, too, had many complimentary things to say about Honey and Trixie’s performance.
Trixie’s mind wasn’t on any of it. “Tomorrow,” she thought, “and Saturday... that’s all the time left to solve the mystery for Uncle Andrew. I know I’m on the right track. I have to be!”
However, when the Bob-Whites had returned to Happy Valley Farm and eaten their dinner, something happened that drove all thought of the stolen sheep far from Trixie’s mind.
Poor Little Orphan • 12
MR. GORMAN WASN’T at the dinner table. Self-conscious about having made a third mistake, Trixie was glad of it. She wouldn’t have to listen to any more teasing. It had been bad enough having Mart and the other Bob-Whites keep reminding her that their trip the night before had just been another wild-goose chase.
I’d wish the earth could open and swallow me up, or that somehow I could vanish from here and find myself back at Crab apple Farm. I’d wish that, Trixie said to herself, except that I’m not going to quit now.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Jim offered quietly. “You’re dreaming, Trixie. Your mind must have been miles away.”
“Not really,” Trixie said. “I’m just sorry Honey and I had to put on that crazy performance at the skating rink this afternoon.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Jim assured her. “It wasn’t bad at all. It’s that Dot had to follow you right away. A person just can’t do everything perfectly...
“I know that, Jim. Wasn’t she
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