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her gravely. “You know you’re just making that up. If there had been anything like that left, after a big fire that did as much damage as this one did, it would have been taken years ago. But if you simply must go exploring, I’ll go with you.”
    “I knew you would! Come on; let’s wheel our bikes in as far as we can and walk the rest of the way.” She started off almost at once, and Honey followed her up a narrow driveway almost overgrown with weeds.
    The weeds in their path were not half as tall as they would be later in the season, and they could see well ahead, so there was little danger of suddenly encountering a snake. Overhead, brown squirrels chattered angrily at them from the branches, and birds swooped low over their heads, as if trying to scare them away from the newly filled nests. There was a chorus of twitters, chirps, and indignant songs going on all around them.
    “Any minute now, that blue jay is going to land right on my head!” Trixie called back to Honey. “She missed me by inches that time!”
    Now they were close to the big ruined house. It rose high above the tallest of the trees that had once marked the borders of the formal sunken garden. A tangle of vines, reaching almost three stories high, softened the blackened outlines of windows.
    The two girls stood together and looked upward at the fresh green that stretched across the empty windows.
    “Can’t you imagine old Ezarach Martin up there with his spyglass, looking out over the trees toward the Hudson, watching for Captain Kidd’s longboat to bring the loot from some hidden cove down the river?” Trixie spoke softly, as if someone might be up there listening.
    Honey stirred uneasily. “I don’t think he could see as far as the river,” she said. As Trixie suddenly looked thoughtful and started around toward the rear of the house, Honey called after her, “But you don’t have to climb up there and find out. Please, Trixie, let’s go back to the road now.”
    But Trixie had disappeared around the corner of the house, and a moment later Honey heard her calling excitedly, “Honey! Come look at what I’ve found!”
    With her heart in her mouth, Honey ran as quickly as she could.
    Trixie was peering over a broken wall into a small plot of ground at the rear of the big house.
    “What is it?” Honey called as she ran.
    “A rose garden!” Trixie said, turning wide blue eyes to her friend.
    Honey slowed down to a walk, disappointed. “Oh, is that all? Gosh, Trix, you’ve seen dozens of rose gardens. What’s so remarkable about this one?”
    “This one is being taken care of,” Trixie told her.
    “How can it be,” Honey asked, “when nobody lives here? And why should somebody who doesn’t live here come and take care of a rose garden?”
    “I dunno,” Trixie admitted, “but you just take a look yourself.”
    Honey came and peered over the wall. The rose garden was very old. The main branches of the rosebushes were thick and spiny, but every one of the bushes was neatly trimmed, and the ground around them had been carefully weeded and neatly raked. “That’s strange,” Honey murmured. Then she saw Trixie lean over suddenly and study something in the soil. “What have you found now?”
    “Footprints,” Trixie told her. “Small ones. Anyhow, smaller than my feet.” She set her foot down beside the print. “Probably a little boy’s.”
    “But they’re pointed. Boys don’t wear pointed-toed shoes. It’s a girl.”
    “And they’ve been made since last night’s rain,” Trixie decided. “Maybe we scared her away.” She straightened up and stared all around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious gardener.
    “Trixie, I think we’d better get out of here. We’re really trespassing, you know.” Honey clutched Trixie’s arm nervously and looked about. “Whoever has been taking care of this garden may come after us with a shotgun if she sees us snooping!”
    “Huh!” Trixie’s eye measured the small