questions, that’s all.”
Mart came into the kitchen.
“You guys are going to miss the bus, if you don’t stop colloquializing,” he reminded them.
“Oh, thanks for telling us,” Trixie said. She grabbed her jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. She and Brian quickly collected their books and ran out the door. They all got to the end of the driveway just as the school bus rounded the corner.
During lunch, Trixie told Honey that Brian would drive them to The Antique Barn after school. Honey, who had put the package in her closet, was delighted at the news.
“I was wondering how we’d get the doll to Mr. Reid without taking it to school first,” she said, greatly relieved.
“Well, if it weren’t for the Bob-White station wagon,” Trixie said, “we’d really have a problem.”
The bell rang, and babbling voices, scraping chairs, and shuffling feet made further conversation next to impossible.
“See you on the bus,” Trixie said, and she made her way to her next class.
True to his word, Brian met them with the station wagon when they got off the bus. They drove to the Manor House to get the doll, and then went on to The Antique Barn.
“I’ll wait out here for you,” Brian said, when they pulled into the small parking area by Mr. Reid’s antique store. “I’d rather listen to the radio than a whole bunch of chit-chat about dollies.”
Trixie laughed. “We’re only going to be gone a minute.”
Pleased at having accomplished their mission in Paris, Trixie and Honey walked sedately into The Antique Barn carrying the box.
Carl Reid immediately took it from them, and carried it to his desk without a word. Quickly ripping off the wrapping paper, he slid back the top. He reached inside and roughly pulled the doll out of the box. While Honey and Trixie watched in amazement, he sqeezed the doll’s arms, torso, and dress. Then, with a satisfied smile, he set the doll down on his desk and turned to the girls.
“Is anything broken?” Honey asked, looking worried.
“Nope. And thank you very much,” he said, smiling absently. “Now it’s getting late, and I have lots to do.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Reid,” Trixie said. Then she stepped forward. “Actually, I have a sort of favor to ask you, too, if you have a minute.”
Mr. Reid looked at her sharply. “Yes?”
“Uh, well,” Trixie continued as quickly as possible, “I have this article to write for the school paper about a local merchant, and I wanted to write my article about you and the antique toys in this store. They’re so interesting, and I’m sure everyone else would think so, too. And it would be helpful advertising for you if there was an article about your—”
“No articles!” Mr. Reid interrupted. “I mean, not this week. I have a lot of things to take care of—Christmas season, you know. Maybe after Christmas. Now look, I’ve got work to do. I’ll talk with you two some other time.”
Shocked at his response, Trixie could do nothing but mumble good-night and stalk out the door.
“Of all the nerve!” she snapped, as she got into the car. “After I did a favor for him, would he do one for me in return? No, he would not.”
“What’s all this about?” Brian asked, shutting off the radio and backing the car out onto the road.
“That selfish man won’t even let me interview him for the school newspaper!” Trixie said, folding her arms across her chest in disgust. “After the big favor we did for him, I think that’s crummy! I only want half an hour of his time. What nerve!”
Honey didn’t have anything to say, and Brian drove them quietly home while Trixie fumed.
They pulled up in front of the Manor House, and Honey got out of the station wagon.
“See you tomorrow!” she called.
“Bye,” Trixie said glumly. She didn’t say a word as Brian parked the Bob-White station wagon, and then she stomped into the house.
Trixie tried to get up the stairs to her room where she could fume in privacy,
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