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the diaries and the letter a secret, Miss Sunderland, so you don’t have to worry about a thing. You won’t tell anyone, either, will you?” Trixie urged.
    “Oh, no, it will be our little secret, won’t it?” the old lady said, clasping her thin hands together gleefully. “I always loved having a secret!”
    Trixie and Honey waved good-bye as they pedaled out of the gate and down the road, the diaries carefully packed in Trixie’s bicycle basket. As soon as they had crossed the dam, they found that what the garage man had told them was certainly true. They flew down the hill, through the upper village, and onto the main road toward Sleepyside in no time at all. It was only when their speed slackened that they had time to talk about the happenings of the afternoon.
    “What do you make of it all? Do you think she will be able to keep the letter a secret?” Honey asked.
    “Jeepers, I don’t know. She’s so forgetful, she may not even think about it once were out of sight,” Trixie answered. “On the other hand, who knows how her mind will work?”
    “I can’t wait to get at the diaries,” Honey said. “When do you think we can start reading them?”
    “We were going to the library tonight, remember?” Trixie asked. “But now I think these are more important. Why don’t you spend the night with me, and we can work on them after dinner?”
    “Wonderful! I’m starved, and your mother always has such yummy food,” Honey replied. “I’m sure Miss Trask will let me stay.”
    Miss Trask, who had been one of Honey’s teachers when she was in private school, had come to stay at the Manor House, first as governess and then, when Honey had entered public school, as manager of the household during Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler’s frequent absences. All the Bob-Whites adored her, and she was always ready to help them with any of their plans when they needed her.
    The girls stopped off at Crabapple Farm to ask Mrs. Belden if it was all right for Honey to eat dinner there and spend the night.
    “I’d be delighted to have you, Honey,” Trixie’s mother said to her. “You know you’re always welcome,” she added with a smile, “especially tonight. Mart and Brian just told me Chuck Altemus wants them to come to his house. They’re planning an overnight camping trip, so that leaves me with several extra pieces of fried chicken.”
    “That’s what smells so good!” Honey exclaimed. “I’ll hurry up to the house, get into something fresh, and be right back, Trixie.”
    By the time Trixie had set the table, showered, and changed her clothes, Mr. Belden was home from the bank, and Bobby, who’d had to amuse himself all day, was teasing for someone to read him a story.
    “You pick out the story you want, and I’ll read it to you,” Honey, who had just come in, told him. “That is, if we have time before dinner,” she added, looking toward Mrs. Belden.
    “You’ll have about ten minutes while the rice cooks,” she answered.
    “I wanna read about Jack ’n’ the beanstalk,” Bobby announced, climbing into Honey’s lap with his book.
    At dinner Trixie tried to hide her impatience. She could scarcely wait to get at the diaries, but she exerted all her self-control and chatted amiably through the meal about the trip to the dam and their picnic lunch. Honey started to help with the dishes after dinner, but Mrs. Belden said, “Thank you, dear, for offering, but I’ll give you and Trixie a vacation tonight. I have a feeling you two have something important to discuss, so run along.”
    Trixie gave her mother a warm hug, and then she and Honey went upstairs to Trixie’s bedroom.
    “Hurry, Trixie; untie the tape, and pray we’ll find something that will give us some leads,” Honey cried as the two curled up on the window seat.
    There were twelve of the little books, all bound alike in soft brown leather. The pages were edged in gold, and each was divided into spaces for three days’ entries.
    “Here, Honey,