The Red Trailer Mystery by Julie Campbell Page B

sent us help last night?"
    Trixie shook her head. "No, you didn’t, but I’m glad you won’t lose the bean crop."
    Mrs. Smith crinkled her red face into a puzzled frown. "Now, I’m sure I told you when we came in not to slam the screen door for fear of waking the children who are upstairs taking their naps."
    It was Trixie’s turn now to look puzzled. "What children?"
    "Why, the Darnells, of course," Mrs. Smith cried impatiently. "Three of the sweetest lambs you’ve ever seen—at least they will be when I feed them up. And, you know, my dear, I did tell you about the little boy’s cold. That’s why I had the lemonade all made. And I remember distinctly telling you how the little girl gobbled up my cookies."
    Confused, Trixie wondered if she had perhaps received a bad blow on the head when Prince threw her, and was suffering from a momentary loss of memory. "I’m sorry," she began, but Mrs. Smith suddenly burst into gales of laughter.
    "It’s as Nat says," she got out between chuckles. "I’m alone so much since the boys grew up and went away from home that I talk to myself, and then I accuse him of not listening, even though he wasn’t in the house at the time." She lumbered to her feet, her sharp black eyes snapping. "Here comes your honeyhaired friend back with the horses. Just run out and help her tie them to that hitching post in front. Take off their bridles and let the poor things graze on the lawn. You’ll find halters and rope hanging beside the back steps.*
    Trixie did as she was told. "Honey," she said with a giggle, "thanks a lot for catching Prince, but let’s not talk about that now. Mrs. Smith is the most wonderful person I ever knew, although sometimes I don’t know what she’s talking about, but you never tasted such cookies and lemonade."
    Honey stared at her as she slipped a halter over Peanuts’s head. "Frankly, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who is Mrs. Smith?"
    "The farmer’s wife," Trixie exploded. "She and her husband own this place and the abandoned orchard. Come onl You’ll love her. She’s almost the fattest woman I ever saw, but she has such a pretty face and is so kindhearted!" Trixie pulled Honey along the driveway. There was no sign of the crow, but the collie, as friendly now as he had been angry before, trotted along beside them.
    "Don’t let that muddy animal inside my nice clean kitchen," Mrs. Smith called from the other side of the screen door. But she made no protest when Laddie followed the girls inside and promptly curled up under the kitchen table as though he belonged there. "I declare," she said, "that dog is as spoiled as Jimmy Crow. I’ll never forget the day Nat brought that pitiful little bird in to me. He had scarcely a feather— Jimmy, not Nat—and his long legs were too weak to hold up his round tummy. I was all for throwing him into the trash can, but he croaked once, as though he had the croup, and before I knew what I was doing I’d wrapped him in flannel and was poking raw eggs into that big mouth of his." She handed Honey a glass of lemonade and waved a plump hand toward the mound of cookies on the copper tray. "Sit down and eat, lamb," she said. "You’re as slim as Mrs. Darnell, the poor little thing."
    "Oh, yes. You were going to tell me about the Darnells when Honey came back," Trixie reminded her.
    Mrs. Smith settled down in the rocker, and it creaked protestingly under her weight. "That’s right," she said. "And I may as well start at the beginning, since Honey missed the first part. You see," she went on, "our hired hand broke his leg just when the beans were ready to be picked. That was yesterday afternoon. Nat sent for an ambulance and went in with the boy to be sure he would be as comfortable as possible at the hospital. While he was gone it rained so hard I thought the roof would cave in. I’m not one to be frightened easily, mind you, but I’m so used to having men around the place, what with seven sons until the youngest