Chapter 8 THE TREASURE HOUSE

MRS. Mattox’ words distressed Hanny, who began to cry. She knew only too well that her uncle might lose his property and that she would be sent back to Holland.

“My uncle won’t lose his farm,” she denied stubbornly. “He will make a great deal of money this year. Our tulip will win the prize and we will sell our bulbs for a nice price.”

“Don’t count on it,” said Mrs. Mattox. “Your uncle will win no prize with any of the tulip varieties I have seen.”

“We have one though—” Hanny began, and then she stopped short. She realized she had been on the verge of saying too much.

“Where does your uncle grow this wonderful tulip?” Mrs. Mattox pursued the subject.

Hanny would not say. She was glad when they reached the boundary of her uncle’s land. The other Brownies were at the fence and helped to pull the water-logged boat back to its mooring place.

“Don’t you mind Mrs. Mattox,” Connie said to Hanny, slipping an arm about the little girl’s waist. “She is just an old meanie.”

“But it is true my uncle may lose this farm.”

“You will win the blue ribbon for your prize tulip.”

“I hope so,” Hanny said soberly, “but Uncle Peter says we cannot count on it. All the growers in Rosedale are trying for the prize. Many new varieties will be shown.”

“Yours will be the very best,” Connie declared confidently. “If it is the Golden Beauty I am sure it will win.”

The children hauled the leaky boat up on the grassy bank. As they overturned it, Miss Gordon hailed them from the path.

“Come to the house, girls,” she called. “Mr. Van Der Lann has invited us to have sweet cakes.”

“I’ll give you some of my hopjes too,” declared Hanny.

“What are those?” Jane Tuttle asked as the group started for the house. “Something to eat?”

“Candy with a butterscotch flavor,” Hanny explained. “Good too!”

Inside the farm house, Peter had laid a fire on the hearth to take a chill from the air. Hanny, Vevi and Connie moved in close to dry their damp shoes and stockings.

As the children were telling Mr. Van Der Lann about the leaky boat, the housekeeper came in bearing steaming chocolate and maastegles or sweet cakes.

While they nibbled the cakes, the grownups talked of the coming flower show. Judging of the tulips, the first event in the mammoth festival, was to come the following weekend. Mrs. Langley planned to open her estate to the public according to her usual custom. Prize flowers would be on display at her greenhouse.

“Mr. Piff keeps at me to have a part in the commercial show,” Mr. Van Der Lann said. “To participate I must pay one hundred dollars. I do not have it and have told him so. Yet he has told about Rosedale that I have refused only because I am stubborn.”

“From what I hear, many of the growers are regretting that they went into Mr. Piff’s scheme,” remarked Miss Mohr. “It is to be an elaborate affair and no doubt will bring hundreds of persons to Rosedale during show week. But some folks are saying that for all his talk, Mr. Piff is not a good manager.”

“I have heard rumors myself,” nodded Mr. Van Der Lann. “Some of the growers complain that for every dollar Mr. Piff collects, fifty cents goes into his own pocket.”

“I liked our festival so much when it was a small, quiet affair,” added Miss Gordon. “For the life of me I cannot understand why Mrs. Langley became interested in Mr. Piff’s scheme.”

The Brownies had just finished their cake when the housekeeper came in. She spoke quietly to the nurseryman.

“Mrs. Gabriel is here again,” she informed him. “It is about those bulbs she asked you to order for her.”

Mr. Van Der Lann went to the window and looked out. He could see the lady’s car on the driveway near the little office.

“Why does she keep pestering me?” he demanded. “I have told her repeatedly that I want none of her business. Tell her I will not see her!”

The Brownies could not understand why the nurseryman did not like to deal with Mrs. Gabriel. Her unexpected visit seemed to upset him.

A little later, when the children were outside again, Vevi asked Hanny why her uncle turned down Mrs. Gabriel’s order.

“I do not know,” Hanny answered with a shrug.

“Who is she anyhow?” Connie questioned. She did not know anyone in Rosedale by the name of Gabriel.

“She has been here several times,” Hanny told her friends. “Always she is nice to me and once gave me a chocolate bar. But I do not like her. Uncle Peter says she is trying to get him to do something he does not want to do.”

It was nearly time to leave now, so the children went down to the canal for their bouquets of flowers.

Sunny, Jane and Rosemary quickly gathered up their tulips and carried them back to the house. Vevi and Connie followed more slowly, stopping a moment to watch the revolving arms of the big windmill.

“Hanny,” said Vevi suddenly, “when are you going to tell us about the mystery house?”

Hanny grinned and pretended not to understand.

“You know what I mean,” Vevi said pointedly. “When are you going to tell us what you keep in that locked building?”

“Someday,” Hanny laughed.

“We may not get out here again very soon,” Vevi argued. “Next week is the flower show at Mrs. Langley’s estate.”

“And right after that the big commercial festival,” added Connie. “The Brownies will be very busy next week too. We have to make our booth and cut paper tulips to decorate the library.”

“But you will have to come again, if only to try on the wooden shoes Uncle Peter is making for you,” Hanny protested.

“We won’t be able to stay long next time,” Vevi insisted. “If you’re ever going to tell us about that locked house, now is the time to do it.”

Hanny hesitated a long while. Then she demanded:

“Can you both keep a secret?”

“Oh, yes!” said Connie.

“A Brownie’s word is as good as gold,” added Vevi. “Tell us your secret, Hanny.”

“It belongs to Uncle Peter as much as to me. You’re sure you can keep the secret if I tell you?”

“Brownie’s honor,” said Connie soberly.

“Then wait here,” directed Hanny. “I will be back in a minute.”

She ran off to the house. Vevi and Connie could not imagine what she was after. Soon she came flying back, something clutched in her hand.

She opened her fingers to show Connie and Vevi that the object was a tiny padlock key.

“Come with me,” she bade her friends. “But you must never, never tell what I am going to show you. Not until after next week at least. Then it will not matter.”

Connie and Vevi became rather excited at the thought of seeing inside the locked house. They could not guess what Hanny’s uncle kept hidden there. It made them feel very important to think that Hanny trusted them enough to let them share her secret.

“We must hurry,” Connie said, glancing anxiously toward the house. “I think Miss Gordon and Miss Mohr are about ready to start home.”

Hanny inserted the key into the padlock and pulled it open.

“You mustn’t tell anyone—not even the other Brownies,” Hanny warned.

“We promise,” Vevi said impatiently.

Hanny pushed open the door and stepped into the dark room. The other two girls followed quickly behind her.

“I can’t see a thing!” Vevi complained.

“Neither can I,” declared Connie, clinging to her friend’s arm.

“Wait! I will let in a little light,” Hanny said. “But only a little.”

The room in which the children stood was nearly square, with walls scarcely more than ten feet in length. There were no windows, only a small skylight overhead. The latter had been covered with a blanket to keep out the sunshine.

Hanny moved the covering so that a crack of light filtered down.

“There!” she exclaimed. “Now can you see?”

Vevi and Connie looked about them. The walls of the room were lined with homemade shelves on which were stored large, plump objects which were difficult to identify in the shadowy light.

“Onions!” Vevi exclaimed, finally making out their shape.

She was bitterly disappointed. For that matter, so was Connie.

“Not onions,” corrected Hanny. “Look again.”

“Tulip bulbs?” Connie asked.

“Yes,” Hanny acknowledged. “Our very best ones are kept here. The temperature is carefully controlled. Uncle Peter and I call this place our treasure house.”

Connie and Vevi were so disappointed they could not say a word.

For days they had been speculating about the mystery of the little locked house. They had convinced themselves that this room contained something very startling and wonderful. And now to learn that it was only a storeroom for bulbs!

Hanny seemed to sense how her friends felt. At any rate, she chuckled as if enjoying their astonishment.

“Now, I’ll show you the real treasure,” she promised. “Then you will understand why the secret must be kept.”