Chapter 4 THE LITTLE LOCKED HOUSE
LEAPING out of the sedan, Mr. Piff rushed over to the stalled automobile to offer his services to Mrs. Langley.
“Having trouble?” he inquired, tipping his hat.
“I think a wire must be broken somewhere,” replied Mrs. Langley. “Either that or the fan belt. Oh, dear, I know so little about motors.”
“Allow me,” said Mr. Piff.
He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. But after puttering over the stalled engine for a few minutes, he told Mrs. Langley he was afraid he could not find the trouble.
“Suppose I take you to your destination and send a garageman for your car,” he suggested.
“I should be most grateful! I was on my way home when the car suddenly went dead as I rounded the bend. But won’t it be too much trouble to drop me off?”
“Not at all,” insisted Mr. Piff, escorting the club woman to his own car.
Mrs. Langley knew Miss Gordon and Miss Mohr very well and was pleased to see them again. During the drive to her nearby estate, she chatted gaily of her plans for the coming garden show.
“You’re exactly the person I’ve wanted to see,” Mr. Piff told her. “I have a plan which I know will interest you—”
From that point on, he talked and talked, outlining his scheme for the big commercial flower show. At first Mrs. Langley did not seem very much impressed. However, before the ride ended, she had begun to ask many questions.
“Do come in,” she invited the group when finally the car reached her home. “You must see my gardens.”
“Another time perhaps,” said Miss Gordon. “Mr. Piff was in a hurry to keep an appointment—”
“That can wait,” he cut in. “Nothing shall deprive me of the pleasure of viewing Mrs. Langley’s beautiful garden.”
The hour had grown late. Miss Mohr and Miss Gordon felt they should be returning to their homes. However, Mr. Piff had forgotten his haste entirely. To the annoyance of the two women, he insisted upon remaining.
The grounds were well-kept and very lovely. Tiny box hedges edged the formal flower beds. There were fountains, a gazing globe and a sun dial.
“How would you children like to pick yourselves a tussie-mussie bouquet?” suggested Mrs. Langley.
“What is that?” asked Vevi, who had never heard of such a thing.
The garden club president explained that a tussie-mussie bouquet really was a tiny nosegay, or flowers arranged for their scents. Each little bouquet was set off with a small paper lace cap.
“You may select any scents you wish,” Mrs. Langley said, leading the girls on to another old-fashioned garden. “Lavender—heliotrope—mignonette—rosemary or lemon verbena.”
“Say, that tussie-mussie idea is good! Has great commercial possibilities!” exclaimed Mr. Piff. “We could set up a booth and have the Brownies sell them at the flower show!”
“The Brownies are not interested,” Miss Gordon said firmly. She had grown increasingly annoyed by the promoter’s tactics. “Really, we should be going—”
Mr. Piff ignored the hint. While Vevi and Connie gathered flowers for their tiny bouquets, he kept talking to Mrs. Langley about his wonderful plans for the tulip festival.
“You have one of the finest gardens I ever have seen,” he flattered the club woman. “It should be thrown open to the public—for a fee, of course.”
“I do open my gardens each year, Mr. Piff,” she told him. “However, I have never charged admission.”
The visitors were conducted to the greenhouse, where orchids and other tropical plants were grown. Under the glass roof it was so warm that Vevi and Connie were glad to get outside again into the fresh air.
They ran on ahead of the adults to the old wishing well.
“I’m going to make a wish,” declared Vevi quickly. “It’s about Mr. Piff too!”
She dropped a flower petal down into the water and was very quiet for a moment.
“There!” she announced. “I’ve made my wish. Now it’s your turn, Connie. What will you wish?”
“No fair telling or it won’t come true.”
“You can give a hint, Connie. That wouldn’t do any harm.”
“My wish is about Windmill Farm.”
“You’re hoping we can go there again and find out about that locked room!” Vevi instantly guessed. “Isn’t that so?”
“Maybe,” laughed Connie, dropping her petal into the still water. “I won’t tell!”
Just then the grownups came up the path. Mr. Piff seemed in very jubilant spirits. Vevi and Connie soon learned the reason for his good humor. He had won from Mrs. Langley a promise that she would assist financially with the commercial flower show!
The purpose of his visit accomplished, Mr. Piff now was ready to leave. He hustled everyone to the car, and promptly delivered the children to their separate homes.
Connie and Vevi heard no more about the flower show until the next Brownie Scout meeting at the library. Miss Gordon then told the girls that Mr. Piff had talked nearly everyone in Rosedale into cooperating in his scheme.
“Everyone except Peter Van Der Lann,” Miss Mohr amended.
“And the Brownies,” added Connie with a laugh. “Or will we help too?”
“I have not agreed to let the organization take part,” Miss Gordon said. “I feel we should help Mrs. Langley, but I am opposed to assisting Mr. Piff in his commercial scheme. Somehow, I do not trust him.”
“It would be fun though, to sell things in the show,” Rosemary Fritche remarked wistfully. “Those tussie-mussie bouquets perhaps.”
“Maybe we could have a Brownie booth,” Jane Tuttle proposed. “We could wear fancy costumes.”
“Dutch dresses and wooden shoes!” cried Vevi. “Maybe Hanny could help us make our costumes!”
“Not so fast, children!” laughed Miss Gordon. “You’re miles ahead of me. I don’t mind if the Brownies have a booth at the regular garden show, but anything we sell must be for charity.”
“May we have a booth?” Connie asked eagerly.
Miss Gordon said she would talk the matter over with Mrs. Langley. She agreed with Vevi that if they did decide to help, it would be nice for the Brownies to wear colorful Dutch costumes.
“Hanny probably can tell us where to get wooden shoes!” Vevi exclaimed. “When will she come to our Brownie meetings?”
“Has anyone given her a definite invitation?” inquired the teacher.
No one had. True, Vevi and Connie had talked with the little girl about joining the troop but they had not told her when the group would meet.
“Why don’t we hike out there right now and invite her to our next meeting?” Sunny Davidson proposed. “Anyway, I’d like to see Windmill Farm.”
“So would I,” declared Rosemary, who had heard a great deal about the nursery from her friends. “May we go right now, Miss Gordon?”
“Well—I had thought we might make scrapbooks this afternoon.”
“Can’t that wait?” pleaded Vevi. “It’s such a nice day for a hike.”
“I think so too,” agreed Miss Mohr, supporting the girls. “Let’s all go.”
Windmill Farm was only a short way into the country. The Brownie Scouts enjoyed the walk and made the most of it by noticing birds, flowers and trees as they hiked.
Presently, they came within view of the Dutch windmill. However, it was such a still day that the giant arms hung motionless.
Miss Gordon told the children that in Holland similar windmills were needed to pump water and prevent the sea from flooding lowlands. She explained, too, that the people of The Netherlands love flowers and are noted for raising especially fine tulips.
“Our best bulbs come from there,” she declared. “Since Peter Van Der Lann started his nursery here, Rosedale is rapidly becoming a known flower center. Many folks say that his imported bulbs are the best that can be bought anywhere in this country.”
“Did you ever hear of a Golden tulip?” Vevi questioned, recalling the name printed on Mr. Van Der Lann’s boat.
“There are all types, Vevi. All colors too. Nurserymen constantly are trying to develop new strains.”
The driveway was fringed with pink and white dogwood trees which had splattered their petals on the gravel. A big gray sedan stood in front of the little nursery office building.
“Mr. Van Der Lann must have a customer,” Miss Mohr remarked.
The nurseryman was talking to a well-dressed woman in a navy-blue suit and fox fur. However, when the Brownie Scouts trooped into the office, he noticed the party at once. He bowed to Miss Gordon and bestowed an especially nice smile upon Miss Mohr.
“Just a moment, please,” he requested.
While they waited, the Brownies wandered about the office room. Garden tools and seeds were for sale, and there were bins of bulbs and tubers.
Connie and Vevi looked eagerly about for Hanny.
“You should find her at the house,” Mr. Van Der Lann advised.
The Brownies dashed off in search of the little Dutch girl. However, at the house, no one answered. The door to the kitchen stood ajar, but not even the housekeeper was there.
“Maybe Hanny is down by the canal,” Vevi suggested.
“Or in the cheese house,” added Connie.
The two girls enjoyed showing Rosemary, Jane and Sunny over the farm. Because they wanted to keep the secret to themselves, they did not tell the others about the locked door or the mystery connected with it. In passing the little building, though, they noticed that the padlock still was clamped shut.
“Where can Hanny be?” Jane speculated.
“Maybe she is out in the fields,” Sunny suggested.
“First, I want to look inside the cheese house,” Connie said.
She opened the door of the building to peer inside. The room appeared empty at first glance. Milk had been poured into the pans, but no one was working there.
Connie started to leave. Then she stood very still, listening. She could hear an odd sobbing sound which came from a far corner of the room.
There on an old couch lay Hanny! The little girl was curled kitten-fashion into a tight ball. Her hands covered her face and she was trying desperately to smother her loud sobs.
