It did not take the Aldens and Rory very long to get to the other side of town. But once they got there, Henry did not find his way so easily. This was the older section of Greenfield, and the children had not been there very often.
Henry led the way and the others followed, up one narrow street and down another.
“We’ll never find it,” said Rory.
“Oh, yes we will!” said Benny. “We’ll find Birds Lane if it takes all day.”
Suddenly Henry called out, “Wait! I think we are close by. Look at that big old house with its windows boarded up. I remember seeing that before. I think Birds Lane is only a block or two ahead.”
Benny raced up the street ahead of the others. When he got to the corner, he hopped off his bike. He called out, “You are right, Henry. Here it is. The street sign says Birds Lane.”
Benny waited for everyone to catch up, and then he started down the narrow street. The first address he saw was 3 Birds Lane. It was a doctor’s office. Then came 5 Birds Lane.
“Why, look at that sign!” Violet exclaimed. “It’s the Jenny Wren Shop. What fun to have a name like that on Birds Lane!”
In a minute the Aldens were opening a door to a shop filled with yarn, cloth, and all sorts of sewing supplies.
A young woman smiled at the children and asked, “What can I do for you?”
Jessie and Violet had been looking all around the tiny shop. But now Violet stepped to the counter and said, “We’ve come for some special blue cloth, like this.” She took out the coin case.
The young woman picked up the coin case. She looked at it curiously.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said. “No one has had cloth like that for a long time.”
Jessie said, “That’s true. We think this is about forty years old, at least.”
“Wait here,” the young woman said. “I’d like to show this to someone. Is that all right with you?”
The Aldens nodded, and the young woman disappeared through a door at the back of the shop. Soon she came back and a small older lady was with her. She had white hair and she walked a little slowly.
The young woman said, “Aunt Rachel, these are the children who brought this blue cloth in. Maybe they can tell you where it came from.”
Benny said, “Excuse me, but are you Miss Rachel?”
The lady smiled and said, “Yes, I am, but I haven’t been called that for years. I’m Mrs. Wren now. This is my niece, Jenny Wren.”
But Benny was still bothered. He said, “You did have a shop here one time in the past, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Wren answered, “Yes, I did. I just called it ’Number 5 Birds Lane.’ I sold cloth and thread and needles to everyone in Greenfield.”
“Then—then do you remember a little girl named Stephanie Shaw?” Benny asked, almost holding his breath.
“Oh, indeed I do!” Mrs. Wren’s voice was trembling. “Poor little thing! She would be fifty years old by now—if she had lived. Did you know that she had died?”
“No, we didn’t. How sad,” replied Jessie. “Our grandfather is James Alden. Perhaps you know him?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Wren quickly. “Mr. Alden is a fine gentleman. Of course he doesn’t come to the shop, but Mrs. McGregor comes to buy dish towels and we talk together. I know that Mr. Alden bought the Shaw house long ago.”
Benny said, “We found this coin case hidden in our house. And we found a note Stephanie Shaw wrote that said ‘Ask Miss Rachel for blue cloth.’ But I guess it doesn’t do any good. You don’t have that cloth anymore.”
Mrs. Wren said, “Little Stephanie did buy that blue cloth from me to make cases for coins. She loved to come in and talk to me. Of course I was just a young woman then.”
“Did you hear from her after she went to France?” asked Jessie.
“Oh, yes, she wrote the loveliest letters. She would have been a writer if she had lived. I’m sure of that. She and her family died in a railroad accident—there was no one left. But oh, I am so glad you came in. You don’t know!”
“Why?” asked Benny, smiling. “Three boys and two girls to buy half a yard of cloth that you don’t even have.”
“I’ll show you,” Mrs. Wren said. She took down an old-fashioned sewing box and opened it. There were old buttons, some bits of lace, and scraps of yarn. She took out a folded piece of paper and gave it to Jessie. “That’s why,” she said.
The paper was yellow with age. Jessie unfolded it carefully. She read aloud “Give this note to anybody who comes in to buy blue cloth for a coin collection. S.S.”
“Now, what do you think of that?” Benny said in amazement. “And you kept this all these years?”
Mrs. Wren smiled a little. She said, “Well, I really loved that pretty child. I kept this just to remind me of her. Old ladies do things like that, you know.”
Rory said, “But that can’t be all. There must be more of a message.”
“Look on the back,” said Mrs. Wren.
Jessie turned the paper over and read, “Attic, dollhouse.”
“Does that mean anything to you?” asked Mrs. Wren. “I’ve read it a hundred times. I didn’t know who was ever coming in nor what Stephanie meant about a dollhouse.”
“Oh, it means something, all right,” Benny answered. “You see, Stephanie really had a fine coin collection and it’s been lost. She hid it somewhere. Some people thought it was stolen. We hope to find it.”
“This may be the clue we need,” Jessie said. “Oh, it’s so lucky you saved this piece of paper all these years.”
Benny was nearest to the shop door. He looked as if he were going to run out.
“Thank you!” he said. “Thank you, Mrs. Wren!”
Mrs. Wren and her niece smiled. “I know you want to get back and explore the attic,” the white-haired lady said. “I understand. Do let us know if you find anything.”
“We will,” Violet promised.
The Aldens left the little sewing shop and got on their bikes. They headed toward the street that would take them back to their own neighborhood.
“I hope we find Stephanie’s dollhouse in the attic,” Jessie said as she rode along. “But I can’t remember seeing a dollhouse up there.”
“The attic has a lot of dark corners,” Henry told her.
Benny said, “It would be just too bad if we had this much of Stephanie’s puzzle and never found the coins at all.”
Rory said, “Ben, that just can’t happen. We have to find the Blue Collection.”
“On with the hunt!” Benny shouted and raced all the others home. |