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in front of the garage. Regan introduced them to the new chauffeur.
    "Dick," he said, "this is Trixie Belden and her kid brother, Bobby. They live in the little white farmhouse down in the hollow."
    The tall, blond man bowed. "How do you do, Miss Trixie and Master Bobby."
    Trixie shook hands with him and said, "Please don't call me 'miss,' Dick. I'm just plain Trixie."
    "Hey," Bobby interrupted. "You're a chowpur, Dick. What's a chowpur?"
    Dick grinned down at him. "It means, I drive cars and take care of their motors. When your legs get a little longer, I'll teach you how to shift gears."
    "Yippee!" Bobby yelled with delight. "An' I'll teach you how to catch frogs in Mummy's best strainer."
    "So," Trixie scolded, "that's where it disappeared! You're a bad boy, Bobby Belden! Moms looked all over the place for that big strainer yesterday."
    "Ah, don't scold the kid." Dick reached into his pocket and produced two quarters. "Here, Bobby. You can buy yourself a strainer for your very own."
    Bobby stared with his round, blue eyes at the money which Dick dropped into his fat little hand. "For my very own," he repeated. "Hey! For my very own!"
    Just then Miss Trask appeared. "I gave Mr. Wheeler your letter of recommendation," she told Dick. "He's leaving on a business trip with Mrs. Wheeler in about an hour, and he said to tell you to start work today if you like."
    "I'd like to very much," Dick said. "I'm to sleep in, I suppose?"
    Miss Trask nodded. "There's another bedroom over the garage. You and Regan can share the same living room and bath in the suite."
    Dick scowled. "Over the garage? I took it for granted that I'd sleep in the house."
    Miss Trask looked surprised, but she said cheerfully, "Oh, you'll like sharing Regan's suite much better. The rooms are very comfortable and attractive. There's a television set and a fine radio-phonograph and a private telephone which you are at liberty to use for all the private calls you wish to make."
    "You couldn't pay me to sleep in the house," Regan said, reaching into the back of Dick's car for his suitcase. "Come on, fella; I'll help you put your gear away."
    "Gimme that!" It was almost a snarl, and Trixie stared at the new chauffeur, who grabbed his bag roughly away from Regan.
    Regan stared at him, too. "Take it easy, fella," he said quietly. "I only meant to be helpful."
    Instantly the expression on Dick's face changed. "Sorry," he said contritely. "Got two new summer uniforms in my grip and a bottle of black shoe polish. If it broke, I'd be out fifty bucks!"
    "Fifty dollars," Miss Trask said, scribbling on a pad. "You'll be reimbursed at once, Richard. Mr. Wheeler said you were to charge anything you needed at the Sleepyside Department Store."
    "Thanks," Dick said pleasantly. "I thought I might as well come prepared, so I bought a couple of gabardine coats and caps yesterday in town."
    "Fine." Miss Trask smiled at him. "As soon as you're settled at bit, you'd better get into uniform. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler will want you to drive them to the station. They're taking the eleven forty-seven express to New York." She hurried away into the house.
    Trixie followed her more slowly. Bobby flatly refused to leave his new friend and, with an important air, led the way up the stairs to the suite over the garage.
    In the spacious hall of the Manor House, Trixie met Honey.
    "Such excitement," Honey said wearily. "Every time Daddy tries to take a vacation, something happens. When Mother heard he had to go to Chicago this morning, she didn't know whether to go with him or not."
    "I take it she's going," Trixie said. "But I know she hated to leave you, Honey."
    Honey nodded. "I could have gone along, but they won't be back for at least a week." She slipped her arm through Trixie's. "I couldn't be gone that long; not with what's upstairs in my jewelry box. Let's search the cottage for more clues."
    As they strolled down the lawn, Trixie asked, "Are we in the doghouse? Did Gallagher really