Читать книгу Nancy's Mysterious Letter - Walter Karig - Страница 3

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“Home again!” Nancy Drew spoke as she stopped her sporty maroon roadster before the walk of her own house.

“We have had a wonderful ride,” said Bess Marvin, “and we thank you lots and lots.” George Fayne, her cousin, nodded in agreement.

The three chums of long standing were returning from an outing at Red Gate Farm, where old Mrs. Burd had loaded the car with farm produce.

“We always have such good times at the farm,” exclaimed Nancy, “that I certainly hate to leave, and they are so generous, too. Just look at the stuff we have!”

The girls began unloading the car. Nancy’s pretty face was half hidden by the sprays of celery protruding from a big paper bag she now clasped in her arms. A pair of dressed ducks which she held between her fingers nearly slipped from her grasp, and in rescuing them she dropped a glove.

“I’ll carry the popcorn ears,” offered the plump Bess, who loved good things to eat. She retrieved the glove and returned it. “And the big pumpkin, too,” she added.

“I’ll take the eggs,” offered George, “and the potatoes, and the apples, and everything that is left.”

The three girls laughed merrily. It was at Red Gate Farm that Nancy had solved one of her most interesting and thrilling mysteries with her chums. It was pleasant for them to return there occasionally and see how they had improved the place with their original ideas.

“I guess that’s all now,” pointed out Bess as the boyish George, balancing the eggs and potatoes, backed away from the car directly into Nancy.

For a moment a catastrophe threatened as each girl strove to right her bundles at the unexpected collision.

“My goodness! What a pudding we would have made if we’d fallen down!” exclaimed George. “I’ll be glad if I get this load into your house safely.”

The girls followed the winding walk that crossed the lawn of the attractive Drew residence. The house door was opened by Hannah Gruen, the middle-aged housekeeper.

“Gracious! Why didn’t you call me!” she cried. “Here, give me something.”

“Just see that there aren’t any wrinkles in the rugs, or any footstools in the way and we will take this stuff right into the pantry.”

The girls marched through the rooms to the rear of the house, carrying bundle after bundle.

“I guess I’ll have to unload you,” laughed Hannah Gruen. “My, what lovely young ducks. Such tender birds. And such a lot of eggs! Can you put the pumpkin on the floor?”

“Phew! My arms are stiff,” Nancy said, stretching them as she deposited the last of her supplies. “Has the mail come yet?”

“No, not yet. Unless there was none for us and old Dixon went by.”

“Expecting a letter, Nancy?” drawled George, winking at her cousin.

“No, but——”

“Then you must have heard from Ned Nickerson in yesterday’s mail,” George said innocently.

“Ned Nickerson? Why, he doesn’t write—” Nancy began. Then, seeing that she was being teased, she added hastily, “he telegraphs!”

“Has he telegraphed you any football tickets yet?” Bess asked.

“Oh, be serious now,” Nancy protested good humoredly. “I don’t want to miss Mr. Dixon. He has brought letters here all my life. I think that I have known him longer than anybody else except Dad, and now he is going to retire.”

“Retire!” exclaimed George, following Nancy and Bess into the living room. “Fancy a letter-carrier retiring! I didn’t know they were paid well enough to save up a fortune.”

“Oh, they get a pension, you know,” Nancy said. “But the thrilling part of it is that Mr. Dixon really has a fortune. It’s a little one, but he has just inherited it from an ancient aunt out West, and now he is going to retire and raise guinea pigs.”

“Guinea pigs!” chorused the cousins.

“Yes, he’s an enthusiast already,” Nancy laughed. “He told me—oh, there’s the ’phone. Excuse me a minute, girls.”

Nancy crossed the hall into the library and took down the receiver.

“Hello, is this you, Miss Drew? This is Mrs. Van Ness.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Van Ness,” Nancy replied, recognizing the name as that of a woman living a couple of blocks distant.

“Mr. Dixon, our letter man, left here a few minutes ago. You have heard of his good fortune, I suppose? Yes? It occurred to me that if all of us on his route would contribute a couple of dollars we could present him with a purse or some little gift as a farewell remembrance from those he has served so faithfully.”

“Why, I’d be delighted, and so will my father,” Nancy replied. “It is a splendid idea, Mrs. Van Ness. I’ll bring you a check this very day.”

Nancy reported the conversation to her friends and went on to tell them more about the faithful mail carrier.

“He has been in the service for thirty-five years, he told me, and in all that time he has not had a single complaint against him, nor has he lost a letter,” Nancy said. “Just think! Why, he must have handled millions of letters in all sorts of weather during that time.”

“Well, I certainly hope his record isn’t marred the last day or two,” George said pessimistically.

“Aren’t you the cheerful thing!” Bess cried.

At this point Hannah entered the room, her broad face beaming above a tray loaded with good things.

“I thought the sharp air might have given you an appetite,” she said. “So I made some cocoa and here are some fancy cakes I baked after a recipe on the baking powder can.”

“Hannah Gruen, that’s great!” exclaimed Nancy, quickly drawing up a coffee table.

“And to think I’m dieting,” moaned Bess. “Cocoa and sweet cakes are off my list, but only after this afternoon. Then I’ll start all over again.”

The housekeeper left the girls to serve themselves. Nancy had filled only one cup with the hot beverage when to her ears came the cheery trill of the mailman’s whistle.

“There’s Mr. Dixon now,” she said, putting down the cocoa pot. “I’ll ask him in to share our treat.”

George and Bess lived in another part of town and did not know the fortunate mailman who was putting aside his pouch to become a guinea pig fancier. It was with some curiosity, then, that they awaited his coming.

“Hello, Miss Nancy!”

George and Bess noticed the greeting, given in a courteous, cheerful voice.

“How are you, Mr. Dixon?” Nancy was heard to respond. “Won’t you come in for a cup of hot cocoa and some brand new little cakes?”

“Well, now,” chuckled the mailman, “I don’t know but that I’ll stop just long enough for a cookie, but business before pleasure. Here’s your mail.”

“Why, a letter from England!” Nancy said. “How funny, I don’t know anyone in England. But come in, Mr. Dixon, do!”

“I don’t know as I should,” Mr. Dixon said. “It isn’t strictly according to regulations.”

George and Bess rose from their chairs as Nancy entered the room, leading by the hand one of the most likable-looking elderly men either had ever seen. His ruddy cheeks, the network of “grin wrinkles” (as Nancy called them) at the corners of his bright blue eyes, the close-clipped white moustache and crisp white hair, made of Ira Dixon a man anyone would notice.

Introductions were made and gracefully acknowledged.

“Here is your cocoa,” Nancy said. “I’ll put a couple of cakes on the saucer, so you won’t have to balance a plate.”

“I won’t sit down, if you’ll excuse me,” Dixon said. “I left my mail, pouch and all, on the porch and I’ll just stand here, because I can’t stay very long.”

Nancy looked longingly at her letter, which she had propped against the sugar bowl on the tray. A letter from Europe was something she did not often receive, and she was tempted to be impolite enough to discover its secret.

“I was telling the girls about your good luck,” she said to the postman, turning her eyes from the long, crisp envelope. “And about the guinea pigs.”

“I suppose you don’t know much about guinea pigs,” Dixon smiled, turning to George and Bess. “Funny thing, they aren’t pigs and don’t come from Guinea, either. I suppose you know that if you pick one up by the tail his eyes will drop out.”

The three girls gasped.

“Oh, how awful!” Bess cried. “Please don’t try it with any of yours, Mr. Dixon.”

Dixon laughed so hard his cocoa nearly spilled.

“That’s just a joke,” he explained. “Guinea pigs have no tails, no more than they have wings.”

“I told my friends about your many years of service with a perfect record,” Nancy said, after the laughter died down.

“Yes, both as man and boy, I’ve worked for Uncle Sam,” Dixon said more soberly. “I’ll be glad to give my feet a rest. I guess I’ve walked 50,000 miles delivering good news and bad. Speaking of bad news, Miss Nancy, I’ve had some myself.”

“Oh, not about your inheritance——?”

Dixon nodded.

“I have a half-brother you don’t know about, named Edgar. Aunt Letitia was no kin of his, being a sister of my mother, you see, and Edgar is my step-mother’s son. But he is a sort of black sheep, a wild boy he always was, and now he is claiming a part of my little fortune.”

Nancy, who had been eyeing her mysterious letter with growing curiosity, looked up at the mailman.

“Of course he can’t get any part of it legally!” she said, indignation in her voice.

“I suppose not,” Dixon said. “I don’t know for sure. But he can certainly worry me a lot. If only he had asked me in a nice way, but he started threatening me from the start. Maybe I ought to share my money with him.”

“I wouldn’t do it!” the girls chorused.

“Well, well, here I am chatting away as if I were on the retired list already,” the mailman smiled. “I must be on my way. Thank you for the refreshments and for being kind to an old man.”

Dixon turned to the door.

Nancy felt half ashamed to admit to herself the fact that she was not averse to having the letter-carrier go, for she was eager to read her English letter. She went to the door and held it open for Dixon.

“Good day, Miss Nancy,” he said. “I hope you will come and—why, I must have left my pouch inside. I’m getting forgetful.”

“No, I think you left it here by the door,” Nancy answered, bewildered. “I’ll look, though.”

Nowhere in the hall or living room could the worn leather pouch or any of its trusted contents be seen.

“Did I leave it on the steps?” muttered Dixon, his hands shaking and a waxen pallor spreading over his face. “No, it isn’t anywhere. It’s stolen! I’m ruined! After all these years of perfect service!”