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glare at Trixie.

Sergeant Molinson Needs Help • 5

    ACTUALLY, TRIXIE had paused because she’d remembered that Ella was on a small salary.
    Ella seemed to sense her feeling. “It won’t be fancy—just a sandwich,” she went on with no embarrassment. “I’m allowed to have company as long as I don’t order fresh lobster.”
    “Well, jeepers!” Trixie simpered, putting her finger to her cheek in a dainty gesture that would have made Mart proud. “I myself am missing green turtle soup at home today. Moms will never forgive me!”
    “La-di-dah!” Honey snorted. “If I ordered that today, our cook would send me out to catch the turtle.”
    “I said I was missing green turtle soup!” Trixie hooted. “Actually, I was going to spread peanut butter on a slab of bread.”
    Ella reached for the telephone. “I’m sure I can do better than that.”
    “I’ll run down to the kitchen and pick up the order,” Trixie offered.
    “Pete will appreciate that. Thank you.”
    Trixie felt a little guilty. She wasn’t trying to save steps for Pete; she wanted to see if someone in the kitchen had noticed any strange riders on the path.
    When she asked the short-order cook, she received a shrewd glance. “Is something wrong up your way? Sergeant Molinson wanted to know about riders, too. The answer is no.”
    So he beat me to it again, thought Trixie, chagrined.
    Back in Ella’s room, Ella greeted Trixie with a pouting expression. “Why were you wasting time talking about horses, Trixie Belden, when you had such exciting news to tell me?” she asked.
    Honey confessed that she had just told Ella about finding Moses.
    “Oh...” Normally, Trixie didn’t like to talk about a case until she had more to go on. The sergeant apparently felt the same way. Neither the cook nor Ella Kline had been questioned about a baby. The policeman had been concerned only about travelers. It just went to show that, whether beginner or professional, one could only start at the outer edge of a web and work inward, strand by strand, to find the spider.
    Trixie flashed her widest grin. “I don’t suppose there are baby clothes in that basket?” she hinted.
    “I wish I could say yes,” Ella said soberly. “Would you like to see for yourself?”
    “Did the sergeant look?” Trixie asked.
    Ella shook her head, and Trixie seized the chance to investigate something the sergeant had overlooked. Of course, Ella was right. There was no sign of a baby’s things in her basket.
    Trixie forced a smile. “Let’s eat our sandwiches,” she said. “All this talk about lobsters and peanut butter has got me starving!”
    By the time the two girls, hot and itchy from their hours in the woods, returned to Crabapple Farm, Mrs. Belden had brought her household under control. She was enjoying the shaded backyard with Di and Moses, who lay on a well-padded blanket in a sunny spot in the grass. Di fussed to make sure the rays of the sun didn’t shine directly into his eyes. She turned him on his stomach and smoothed his hair.
    “How do you know when he’s had enough sun?” Honey asked, plopping down near him.
    “It’s like ironing,” replied Di. “You touch him with a damp finger. If he sizzles, he’s had enough.” Di kept a perfectly straight face except for her pansy-colored eyes, which sparkled with mischief.
    “Come on,” Honey begged. “Remember, I was an only child most of my life. Jim was fifteen years old when he joined the family!”
    Di turned serious. “We re watching the clock over there on the steps and keeping close track of his skin color.”
    Trixie touched the baby’s roughened, chapped skin. “Whoever had him last wasn’t so careful,” she said softly.
    “I’m a better sitter than that whoever,” Di declared.
    Di went home to dinner in the late afternoon, and soon it was time for Trixie and Honey to share the baby’s six o’clock feeding. The two girls arrived at the Belden dinner table radiant with renewed