The Mystery of the Emeralds Read Online Free PDF Page B

thumbs as she looked off across the meadow, seeming to forget for the moment that the girls were there. Finally, with a little shake of her head, she said, “I suppose it was what makes lots of young folks leave home. She probably fell in love with some young man—Yes, I remember Mother saying she married and went off to Virginia when she was little more than a girl.”
    “And then?” Trixie’s question was almost a whisper as she tried to encourage Miss Sunderland to reminisce further.
    “Well, let me see,” she said slowly. “Seems to me Ruth had a baby—she would be my cousin, wouldn’t she? Then later Ruth died after her husband was killed in the war. My goodness, what a long time ago that was. I don’t see why you young folks are interested in all this. I’m afraid I’ve been talking too much again.” She laughed as she brought her attention back to the girls.
    Trixie glanced at Honey as if to ask her if she felt the time was right to mention the letter. When she saw Honey give an imperceptible nod, Trixie said, “As a matter of fact, we are very interested, Miss Sunderland, because yesterday I found a letter up in our attic that I think your aunt Ruth wrote years ago.”
    “A letter in
your
attic? But how could that be?” Miss Sunderland asked, edging her chair up closer to Trixie.
    Very slowly, and as gently as possible, Trixie told about Rufus and the necklace. There was a long pause. Miss Sunderland was lost in thought again, trying to comprehend it all and fit the pieces together.
    “What a strange story!” she finally said. “That girl must have had a lively imagination, just like my aunt Helen. She was always making up stories for me when I was a little girl. An emerald necklace! Imagine!”
    “You mean you don’t think it’s true about Rufus and all?” Trixie asked.
    “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.” Miss Sunderland’s eyes twinkled. “But one thing I know, I’m much too old to care about emeralds. Never did like anything except plain gold jewelry, and not much of that, either.”
    “You said, ‘maybe it is,’ Miss Sunderland,” Trixie said. “Would you mind if we tried to find out more about it?”
    “Mercy, no, child,” the old lady answered warmly. “I know how young folks like to dream. You just go right ahead and see if you can find the necklace. A charmed one, too, they say. Hmm.”
    “One more question, and then we should be on our way,” Trixie continued. “Have you any idea where Rosewood Hall was? That’s where the letter was written from, so that part must be real.”
    “Rosewood Hall, Rosewood Hall,” Miss Sunderland mused. “No, I don’t rightly think I do, although the name has a faintly familiar sound. I wonder—”
    Trixie and Honey kept perfectly still, waiting for whatever it was the old lady was groping for.
    “No, I don’t recall anything about Rosewood Hall, but maybe you’d find some mention of it in my father’s diaries. He kept them for several years, and I have them all,” she volunteered.
    “Oh, may we look at them?” Honey and Trixie asked almost in the same breath.
    At that moment they saw a young man coming up the road.
    “Hi, Miss Julie,” he called out cheerily as he jumped over the fence, carefully balancing an old-fashioned milk can in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other.
    “Why, it’s Neil,” Miss Sunderland said pleasurably.
    The boy was tall and rangy, with wide shoulders and slim hips. His light brown hair was carefully combed, almost too carefully, Trixie thought to herself. His blue jeans and T-shirt were clean but worn and his scuffed cowboy boots looked a bit incongruous.
    When Miss Sunderland introduced Trixie and Honey, Neil gave them an appraising look and said, “Pleased to meetcha. Don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts before.” He had set the milk and eggs on the edge of the well, and as he spoke, he hitched his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans.
    “No, we’re from Sleepyside,”