The Hudson River Mystery

said Brian.
    ”I think what you told them definitely made an impression,” said Honey. ”You have á way of letting people know you really care. I’ll bet your future patients are going to follow your instructions right down to the letter.”
    ”If they can read his handwriting,” Trixie teased. ”Aren’t doctors supposed to have terrible handwriting?” Seeing Brian’s uncomfortable expression, she added hastily, ”How are you feeling? Boy, wait till Dr. Ferris hears about how you’re taking care of yourself!”
    ”I’ll be happy if he just finds out what poisoned me in the first place,” said Brian. ”Actually, I feel pretty good, sitting here in the sun. How about you, Honey? I’m starving, though. There’s nothing like a good, brisk swim to stimulate my appetite!”
    ”I was ravenous before we. even got in the water,” Honey admitted.
    ”Well, what are you waiting for?” came a low voice from behind them. ”Dig in!”
    The Bob-Whites spun around with shouts of glee: ”Loyola!”
    ”You shouldn’t have!”
    ”You should have!”
    ”We’re so glad you did!”
    A red-checked tablecloth was spread out on the ground in a sunny, inviting spot. Somehow, Loyola had quietly set out a picnic feast for the others. There were containers of fresh lemonade, thick turkey and lettuce sandwiches, a bag full of pears and oranges, and a large plastic bowl of Loyola’s specialty—Waldorf salad.
    Within seconds, the young people had made themselves comfortable and were happily munching sandwiches.
    Honey sipped her lemonade and sighed, ”What a perfectly perfect place for a picnic.” Trixie gazed around at the autumn trees, the chalky cliffs, the blue green water. ”It is beautiful here, along the river. I’ve heard there used to be a whole group of artists here called the Hudson River School,” she said, reaching for a second helping of Waldorf salad.
    ”I remember Di telling me about that,” said Brian. ”That existed in the last century, right? Di said it was the first group of Americans to develop a distinct type of landscape painting.” Trixie nodded. ”And they painted the very same scenes and farms and fishermen and everything we see every day. Just looking at the river sometimes really makes me wish I could paint.”
    ”You can’t do everything,” Honey told her. To Loyola she said, ”This is certainly good Waldorf salad. It’s so crunchy!”
    ”Thank you,” said Loyola, pleased. ”That’s what my grandfather says, too. I must say I don’t care for it that much myself. I’ve never been that crazy about apples, I guess.”
    ”What else do you put in it?” Honey asked politely.
    ”Well, I’m getting more interested in natural foods these days. In this salad, for example, I used organic celery and grapes—”
    ”Organic?” Honey repeated.
    ”That means they’re grown without using any chemical fertilizers or pesticides, only fertilizers of plant or animal origin.”
    ”Thought you were going to be a chemistry major,” Trixie tittered. ”Seems weird that you wouldn’t like chemicals!”
    ”I plan to major in marine biology,” Loyola said a little coolly. ”And many people, even some scientists, believe that artificial chemicals don’t belong in food for humans. Anyway, the salad also contains whole shelled walnuts and a mayonnaise with a base of safflower oil. Then, at the last minute I take whole apples and simply cut them up and throw them in. Brian, would you like some more? You’ve only had three helpings so far!”
    ”Sure, let’s make it an even four,” said Brian, helping himself. ”How did such a good thing get stuck with a name like Waldorf, anyway?”
    ”Oh, I know the answer to that,” Honey said.
    ”It’s named after the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City. I think one of their chefs invented it. I ate there with Mother and Dad once.”
    ”Well, la-di-da,” kidded Brian.
    Honey flushed but began a good-humored retort.
    Ordinarily, Trixie would have joined in teasing Honey about her wealthy background. At the moment, though, certain facts were filing through her mental computer. She tuned out on the others’ conversation completely, trying to concentrate on something she recalled only vaguely... something she had read... in a hurry. As her mind sifted through the data, Trixie felt the blood rush to her face in a burst of emotion.
    Finally, something clicked. Too overwhelmed by strong feelings to really think things through, Trixie turned