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Trixie answered a bit coolly and then added, “and where do
you
come from?”
    There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, for she had taken an immediate dislike—no, “dislike” wasn’t the word for it. She just had a feeling that Neil was a little fresh. He reminded her vaguely of Dan Mangan when she first met him, although Neil was not as sullen as Dan had been.
    “Oh, up north of here,” Neil answered vaguely. “I’m figuring on moseying down Texas-way before winter and getting me a job on a ranch, but I took a fancy to Miss Julie here, so I’m stopping off for a while,” he continued, giving the old lady an ingratiating smile.
    The way he talks makes me feel he’s read too many Western comic books
, Trixie thought to herself.
I’d like to see him on a bucking horse. I bet he wouldn’t last long!
Then, aloud, she said, “Well, that sounds like fun. No school, no worries.”
    “I’ll say no more school!” Neil answered emphatically. “I hate school! Do you think they teach you anything about horses? No, just a lot of junk that don’t do a guy no good.”
    A little
grammar
might have done
you
some good
, Trixie felt like saying, but she controlled the impulse.
    “Oh, do you like horses?” Honey asked brightly. “Trixie and I love to ride. We have several horses at home.”
    “I’ll just bet you do, Miss,” Neil replied out of the corner of his mouth. “You see, I ain’t that lucky, but I’ll have me some horses one of these days, you can bet.” With that, he picked up the milk and eggs and took them into the house.
    “Isn’t he a nice boy?” Miss Sunderland asked warmly. “See how he took those things to the kitchen without even being asked? I don’t know how I’ll ever get along without him.”
    “Well, he
does
seem to take good care of you,” Trixie replied. “But isn’t it too bad he left school so soon?”
    “Oh, he’ll turn out all right,” Miss Sunderland said. “He’s a bright boy, really, but he doesn’t seem to have any roots, and all he can think about is horses.”
    “Well, I
hope
you’re right,” Trixie said dubiously, and then realizing that it was getting late, she asked Miss Sunderland if it would be convenient for her to get the diaries before they left.
    “What diaries?” the old lady asked, her misty blue eyes wide.
    Trixie’s heart sank as she gently reminded Miss Sunderland of her father’s diaries and of Rosewood Hall.
    “Oh, of course, of course. I got to thinking about something else there for a minute. I’ll get them. They’re right in his desk where he always kept them.” She pushed herself out of the chair and walked slowly toward the house.
    While she was gone, Trixie and Honey compared notes on their impressions of Neil, and both agreed that they had some mental reservations about him. Trixie had the feeling he was putting on an act, and she wondered why.

    “Let’s suggest to Miss Sunderland that this business of the letter be a secret among the three of us,” Trixie said. “Do you think she’ll agree?”
    “Yes, but after all, she’s
ninety!
All we can do is hope. Her mind is really very fuzzy, isn’t it?” Honey replied slowly.
    “I guess you’d be fuzzy, too, if you’d lived that long,” Trixie said. “Shh! Here she comes, and thank goodness, she has the diaries!”
    “Now, my dears, you just take these along with you. I’ve heard of your family, Trixie. I guess there have been Beldens in Sleepyside about as long as our family has been here in Croton. When you’ve finished with them, you can bring them back, and we’ll have another nice visit.” She handed the little leather journals to Trixie. They were tied together with faded red tape, the kind Trixie had seen on old legal documents her father had occasionally brought home from the bank. He had told her this was why people said any involved business was “all tied up in red tape.”
    “We’ll take good care of them,” Trixie assured heras she and Honey made their