Chapter 7 The Clue in the Diary by Carolyn Keene
A Disclosure
After outlining her plan for the supper party, Nancy waited expectantly for Mrs. Swenson’s response. During the moment of silence, she clearly read the woman’s thoughts. She was battling with her pride.
“How kind of you to take an interest in us!” Mrs. Swenson said at last. “I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”
“Then I may go ahead with my shopping?” Nancy asked eagerly.
“Yes, it will be wonderful to have a ‘feast,’ as you call it. We haven’t had one since my husband left.” Mrs. Swenson caught herself quickly, and said, “Joe is away looking for work. I’m sure he’ll send me money in a few days and then I can repay you for—”
“Oh, but this is a special party,” Nancy interrupted gaily. “You mustn’t think of repaying me.”
During the ride to town, Mrs. Swenson seldom spoke. She leaned wearily against the cushion, a half-smile playing over her pale face. Her weary blue eyes were kind, but the privations brought on by poverty and worry had stamped grim lines about her mouth.
Nancy parked the convertible on the main street of Sandy Creek and insisted that Mrs. Swenson assist her in selecting the food for the feast. They chose a quantity of staples, then Nancy added as many luxuries as she could afford—ice cream, a thick juicy steak, fresh fruit and vegetables, cake and an assortment of melons.
“You’re buying enough to last a week!” Mrs. Swenson declared.
That was exactly what Nancy had intended to do. Not until she had practically exhausted her funds would she listen to the other’s protests.
“If it weren’t for Honey, I never would permit you to spend money on us,” Mrs. Swenson said as they climbed into the car. “We’re not accustomed to accepting charity. When my husband was employed, we lived well. We should still be well off if he hadn’t been cheated out of his rights!”
This gave Nancy an opening, and as they drove back toward Riverwood Cottage she diplomatically questioned the woman. Mrs. Swenson, however, revealed very little about her husband. She seemed eager to impress Nancy with his kindness, rather than his apparent irresponsibility.
“Joe has always been good to me and he adores Honey. Some folks say he’s lazy, but that isn’t true. He’s always worked—harder than most folks. He’s an inventor, and if he hadn’t been cheated out of his patents, we’d be wealthy—”
She broke off as the convertible turned a corner and a voice called out, “Hi, Nancy!”
“Ned Nickerson!” she exclaimed, and pulled to the curb behind Ned’s parked car.
With a pleased grin which spread over his entire face, Ned jumped from behind the wheel and came hurrying toward the convertible.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Oh, just prowling about.” Nancy laughed. She introduced Mrs. Swenson, then said, “What are you doing in Sandy Creek?”
“On an errand for my mother. I’m about to rush home for something to eat. I’m nearly starved.”
“Better come with us,” Nancy proposed impetuously. “We’re having a feast at Mrs. Swenson’s.”
Ned accepted the invitation without an instant’s hesitation, and promised to follow in his car as soon as he had phoned home.
It was only a short distance to the cottage, and Mrs. Swenson showed no inclination to resume the interrupted conversation. Nancy had hoped that she would tell more about her husband’s work, but the woman did not volunteer any additional information.
“I’ll talk to Mrs. Swenson about it before I leave the cottage,” Nancy promised herself. “I must get to the bottom of the mystery.”
The few hints that Mrs. Swenson had dropped only served to trouble Nancy further. Since Joe Swenson was an inventor, it seemed reasonable that he had gone to Mr. Raybolt to retrieve something of his. If no one were home, he might have become a housebreaker, then an arsonist. Nancy suddenly chided herself.
“I mustn’t have such thoughts! Time enough to draw conclusions when I’ve heard Mr. Swenson’s side of the story! Right now, I’ll say nothing to ruin our little party.”
As Nancy parked in front of Riverwood Cottage, Bess, George, and Honey came running to see what she had brought. The little girl squealed with delight as she peered into the various packages.
“You didn’t forget Hans’s bone?” she asked.
“I should say not,” Nancy told her. “The butcher gave us the best one he had.”
Ned arrived, and everyone helped carry in the bundles. As Nancy stepped into the cottage it was her turn to be surprised. During her absence the girls had decorated the living-dining room with flowers from the garden and had brought out the best china, a lovely set of delftware.
“What beautiful dishes!” Nancy exclaimed admiringly.
“They’re all I have left of our good possessions,” Mrs. Swenson said. “The set was given to me as a wedding present. I must sell the dishes soon, but I keep putting it off.”
“It seems a shame to sell a wedding gift,” Bess remarked sympathetically. “Especially such a lovely one as this.”
Under the influence of the young people, Mrs. Swenson brightened. It was impossible to be downhearted around Ned and Nancy, who kept up a constant stream of good-natured banter. Mrs. Swenson, an excellent cook, took charge of preparing the meal, but she had four able assistants. Honey and Hans hovered near the stove where the steak was sizzling.
“Hans has his canine eye on another bone!” Ned laughed. “Well, he won’t get it until we’ve picked it bare.”
Nancy had not misnamed the supper, for it really was a feast. There was plenty of everything and it was a pleasure to see Honey’s eyes grow big at the sight of each steaming dish that was brought to the table.
It was a happy meal, and Ned proved to be a very interesting dinner companion. Even Mrs. Swenson’s sober face lighted up and she ate her food with enjoyment. Nancy entered into the lighthearted conversation, but her mind was far from carefree. Several times during the meal George gazed at her significantly as though to ask what she intended to do about the diary. The girls had come to Sandy Creek to learn certain facts, but now that they realized how affairs were at the Swenson cottage, it seemed unkind to bring further trouble upon the family.
“I want to show you my little baby chicks,” Honey announced when the meal was over. “I have ten yellow ones—all my own.”
Ned, Bess, and George obligingly followed the child outside.
“Coming?” Bess asked Nancy.
“No, I’ll stay and help with the dishes.”
Nancy felt that it was her opportunity to talk with Mrs. Swenson alone. Yet, after the others had gone, she did not know how to launch the important subject. As she scraped the dishes, she cautiously broached the subject of nationalities.
“We’re Swedish,” Mrs. Swenson declared. “You probably guessed that.”
Nancy had, but her heart sank at the definite assertion.
“You speak perfect English,” she replied.
“My husband is a university man,” the woman returned proudly. “He has always corrected my English and helped me with it.”
“What were the other names in your families?” Nancy asked, smiling.
“My maiden name was the same as that of Joe’s mother—Dahl.” Nancy stifled a gasp. The ring with the initial “D” must have been inherited by Joe Swenson! Now she must find out about the diary!
“I’ve often heard that people who move to this country keep diaries. Did your family follow the custom?” Nancy inquired, trying to make her question sound uninquisitive.
“The Swensons always did, even at home. My husband kept a diary in which he also told of his inventions. He hoped that this would help keep his ideas safe. But—” Mrs. Swenson stopped speaking and gazed into space.
Nancy pretended not to notice the long pause. Finally she asked, “Did your husband always carry the diary with him?”
“Yes, he did.”
At this affirmation of her suspicions, Nancy almost dropped a plate. She quickly caught it, but thought, “Evidence is piling up against Joe Swenson at an alarming rate!”
Presently Mrs. Swenson spoke again. “Nancy, I can’t understand why I haven’t heard from my husband,” she confided. “Joe has been gone a month. He was sure of finding work and promised to send money home. But I haven’t had a single letter from him. That’s the reason I went to the post office today. But there was no mail for me. Oh, Nancy, I’m so worried about Joe. Something may have happened to him!”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Nancy said quickly.
Mrs. Swenson grabbed the girl’s arm. “Why do you say that?” she cried out. “Do you know something about Joe?”
Nancy was dumfounded. What was she going to say now?