The Mystery on Cobbett's Island by Kathryn Kenny Read Free Book Online Page B

Peter. “What corny stories!”
    Beyond was the dining-room which was papered with some scenes from the days when whaling had been an important occupation. The kitchen was in an ell at the rear of the house and one whole side of it was filled with a wide fireplace and brick ovens. A refrigerator and modern stove had been built in so cleverly that the early American atmosphere of the room had not been disturbed.
    â€œWhat a wonderful place for parties!” exclaimed Jim. “I can smell the popcorn right now.”
    â€œAs a matter of fact we
do
usually end up here Saturday nights,” Peter remarked.
    After looking into the library with its big mahogany desk, comfortable leather chairs, and shelf upon shelf of books, Peter took them upstairs to see a curious four-poster bed covered with a tester and with a trundle bed underneath. Each post was elaborately carved, and the bed was so high that to get into it, one had to use a step stool.
    They decided to postpone the visit to the attic until they had more time. Peter said his family had been so busy getting the downstairs redone that no one had had time to explore it fully.
    â€œJeepers, it’s an awful temptation to start looking through all those fascinating old trunks and boxes,” said Trixie, poking her head through the narrow door that led to the attic, “but I know if we took one peek, we’d never be able to tear ourselves away.”
    â€œYou’re so right,” Honey agreed. “Come on, everybody, let’s get out of this enchanted house.” And she led the way down the narrow back stairs and out the kitchen door.
    After getting rakes from a nearby shed, they took the path which led to the entrance to the gardens behind the house. It was obvious that the gardens had been lovingly and skillfully planned years ago, and even time and neglect had not been able to erase their beauty. Fruit trees lined a path leading to a shallow pool where Mrs. Kimball had started water lilies. Behind the pool was an ancient statue of a woman holding an urn on her shoulder, and on either side were gracefully carved stone benches. Carefully laid-out flower beds were already bright with color, and beyond them could be seen the vegetable gardens. To the right of the pool and at somedistance lay the still-unrestored section of the garden. Honeysuckle and wild grape vines had grown to the tops of the trees, making an almost impenetrable tangle, and practically concealing a little structure which Peter said was the gazebo.
    â€œYou know, I was wondering what a gazebo was,” mused Diana. “I always get that word and carousel mixed up, for some reason or other.”
    â€œMy mother tells me these fancy little houses were the last word in Queen Victoria’s day, for tea parties, or just to sit in and gaze about. That’s probably how they got their name,” Peter offered.
    They all went to work cleaning up the debris in the main garden so it, at least, would be presentable for the party, and it was dusk when they finally stopped work.
    â€œIf I can get everyone up early tomorrow, we’ll be back and get this finished in jig time,” said Trixie.
    â€œSay, who was first up this morning, I’d like to know?” asked Jim with mock indignation. Turning to Peter, he continued, “I’ll take charge of this work crew and have them here at eight, sir.” He clicked his heels and gave a brisk salute.
    On the way back to The Moorings Trixie said, “Now how do you all feel about Peter and the letter?”
    â€œOh, I think he’s about the greatest!” Dianaanswered with a faraway look in her big eyes.
    Mart gave her a withering glance but agreed with Trixie that Peter certainly seemed dependable.
    â€œHow about you, Honey?” asked Trixie. “Do you think we should tell him about the letter?”
    Honey thought for a moment and then said, “You know, anyone who loves old houses and gardens and