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Authors: Julie Campbell
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blame.”
“That’s all right; we understand,” Trixie assured her.
“I’d like to think that someday this farm will be his,” Mrs. Elliot went on, “but—”
“That won t be for a long, long time,” Honey interrupted.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Elliot said.
Trixie was curious. “You make it sound like Max won t be here. Do you think he’s going to, uh, leave again?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” Mrs. Elliot said. She shook her head. “It’s just that, well... he doesn’t seem to want to own the place. I offered to have the deed put in his name now, but he refused. I offered him co-ownership, too, but he didn’t want any part of that, either.”
Before Trixie could say anything, Max returned with the mending materials. “This’ll just take a few minutes,” Dan told the others. “Go ahead and have some lemonade. Max and I will join you when we’re done.”
“I’ll help Bobby get cleaned up first,” Honey said, taking his hand.
“And I’m going to put the camera in the car,” Mart added, “so he doesn’t trip over that!” While they were pouring tall glasses of iced lemonade, Trixie asked Mrs. Elliot, “Have other bad things happened recently? Have there been other acts of vandalism?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Elliot nodded. “I just can’t understand it. It’s so cruel and senseless. And it’s happened so often, it’s almost as if someone purposely....” Her voice trailed off.
“What sort of things?” Trixie asked.
“My bed of snapdragons, for instance.” Mrs. Elliot smiled wanly. “Isn’t that a fierce name for such a beautiful flower?”
Trixie nodded. Mrs. Elliot went on. “Man-ton’s, the flower shop in White Plains, ordered several dozen of them recently. I had an extra nice batch coming along. On the morning I was to cut and deliver them, someone had romped through them, trampling almost all of them down.”
“Oh, no!” Trixie exclaimed. “Did you see any footprints? Could it have been a dog or a deer?”
“There was no way to tell. Max and I tried to find any flowers that could be saved, but there weren’t enough. I’d been counting on the sale of those flowers.”
Trixie frowned. “Were there other things, too? Other suspicious ‘accidents’?”
Tm afraid so,” Mrs. Elliot said. “A few weeks ago, Max and I took a delivery to White Plains. When we came back to the truck after doing a little shopping, one of the tires had been slashed. The service station man couldn’t repair it. I had to buy a new tire.”
“Mrs. Elliot,” Honey called from the porch. “There’s a telephone call for you.”
“Excuse me, dear,” Mrs. Elliot told Trixie. “Why don’t you take Max and Dan a glass of lemonade? I’ll be right back.”
Honey and Bobby joined her as Trixie put two glasses of lemonade and several cookies on a tray.
“Here’s another cookie for you,” Honey told Bobby affectionately.
“Don’t go falling on that one,” Trixie warned him with a smile. She took the tray to the well.
The suction pipe had been patched, and the new pump was hooked up. Max and Dan wiped their hands on paper napkins and paused for refreshing gulps of lemonade.
“Will it work?” Trixie asked, nodding toward the pump.
“Only one way to find out,” Dan said. He set down his empty glass and kneeled to unscrew the priming plug. Max inserted a funnel and poured in a pail of water, priming the pump.
When the plug was tightened back into place, Max flipped the switch while Dan opened a nearby faucet. The motor hummed, and after a moment there was a brief spurt of water from the faucet. Then there were sputtering sounds as air came out of the tap, and a few more spurts of water. Finally there came a steady, gushing stream.
Everyone cheered, then headed for the picnic table for more refreshments.
Mrs. Elliot returned from the cottage beaming with pleasure. “That was Manton’s, the flower shop, on the phone. Mr. Manton wanted to know if I could sell him a large
“That’s all right; we understand,” Trixie assured her.
“I’d like to think that someday this farm will be his,” Mrs. Elliot went on, “but—”
“That won t be for a long, long time,” Honey interrupted.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Elliot said.
Trixie was curious. “You make it sound like Max won t be here. Do you think he’s going to, uh, leave again?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” Mrs. Elliot said. She shook her head. “It’s just that, well... he doesn’t seem to want to own the place. I offered to have the deed put in his name now, but he refused. I offered him co-ownership, too, but he didn’t want any part of that, either.”
Before Trixie could say anything, Max returned with the mending materials. “This’ll just take a few minutes,” Dan told the others. “Go ahead and have some lemonade. Max and I will join you when we’re done.”
“I’ll help Bobby get cleaned up first,” Honey said, taking his hand.
“And I’m going to put the camera in the car,” Mart added, “so he doesn’t trip over that!” While they were pouring tall glasses of iced lemonade, Trixie asked Mrs. Elliot, “Have other bad things happened recently? Have there been other acts of vandalism?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Elliot nodded. “I just can’t understand it. It’s so cruel and senseless. And it’s happened so often, it’s almost as if someone purposely....” Her voice trailed off.
“What sort of things?” Trixie asked.
“My bed of snapdragons, for instance.” Mrs. Elliot smiled wanly. “Isn’t that a fierce name for such a beautiful flower?”
Trixie nodded. Mrs. Elliot went on. “Man-ton’s, the flower shop in White Plains, ordered several dozen of them recently. I had an extra nice batch coming along. On the morning I was to cut and deliver them, someone had romped through them, trampling almost all of them down.”
“Oh, no!” Trixie exclaimed. “Did you see any footprints? Could it have been a dog or a deer?”
“There was no way to tell. Max and I tried to find any flowers that could be saved, but there weren’t enough. I’d been counting on the sale of those flowers.”
Trixie frowned. “Were there other things, too? Other suspicious ‘accidents’?”
Tm afraid so,” Mrs. Elliot said. “A few weeks ago, Max and I took a delivery to White Plains. When we came back to the truck after doing a little shopping, one of the tires had been slashed. The service station man couldn’t repair it. I had to buy a new tire.”
“Mrs. Elliot,” Honey called from the porch. “There’s a telephone call for you.”
“Excuse me, dear,” Mrs. Elliot told Trixie. “Why don’t you take Max and Dan a glass of lemonade? I’ll be right back.”
Honey and Bobby joined her as Trixie put two glasses of lemonade and several cookies on a tray.
“Here’s another cookie for you,” Honey told Bobby affectionately.
“Don’t go falling on that one,” Trixie warned him with a smile. She took the tray to the well.
The suction pipe had been patched, and the new pump was hooked up. Max and Dan wiped their hands on paper napkins and paused for refreshing gulps of lemonade.
“Will it work?” Trixie asked, nodding toward the pump.
“Only one way to find out,” Dan said. He set down his empty glass and kneeled to unscrew the priming plug. Max inserted a funnel and poured in a pail of water, priming the pump.
When the plug was tightened back into place, Max flipped the switch while Dan opened a nearby faucet. The motor hummed, and after a moment there was a brief spurt of water from the faucet. Then there were sputtering sounds as air came out of the tap, and a few more spurts of water. Finally there came a steady, gushing stream.
Everyone cheered, then headed for the picnic table for more refreshments.
Mrs. Elliot returned from the cottage beaming with pleasure. “That was Manton’s, the flower shop, on the phone. Mr. Manton wanted to know if I could sell him a large
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