The Mysterious Visitor

to see why Di is so unhappy," she finished. "I hope she doesn’t go home."
    "Miss Trask won’t let her," Honey said as she handed Trixie clean underclothes. "Miss Trask is a very understanding person." She took a blue wool dress from one of her closets. "This ought to look nice on you, Trixie, and it won’t be much too long. Not that anybody cares. But what are you going to wear on your feet? I don’t think my shoes will fit you."
    "My battered mocs will have to do," Trixie said.. "Your feet are longer and narrower than mine, just like the rest of you is."
    Honey giggled. "That sounds awfully ungrammatical, but I can’t tell you why."
    Trixie surveyed herself in the mirror. "I look like a goon, but then I always do in a dress. At least my legs are still so tanned it looks as though I were wearing stockings. Don’t you think so, Honey?"
    "Except for the scratches," Honey said. "But I guess they could pass as clocks."
    "Clocks but no runs," Trixie said. "Come on. The suspense is killing me. If Di has gone home, what will we do, Honey?"
    But Di had not gone home. They met her in the hall. Miss Trask was with her. She was wearing a lavender wool dress that was very much like the ones Honey and Trixie were wearing.
    "How nice you look," Honey said, slipping her hand through Di’s arm.
    The boys came out of Jim’s room then, and they all trooped down to the dining room. Everyone joked and laughed a lot throughout the meal, except Di, who hardly said a word. When Celia, the pretty maid, brought in the dessert, Jim said to Miss Trask, "We menfolk plan to go to the movies, but since Brian isn’t allowed to drive after dark, may we ask Tom to drive us in and back?" Tom Delanoy was the Wheelers’ handsome young chauffeur.
    Celia blushed as she always did when Tom’s name was mentioned, although everyone knew that they planned to get married someday soon.
    "You’ll have to ask Tom about that," Miss Trask told Jim. "It’s his night off."
    "I can answer for him, ma’am," Celia said, blushing more furiously than ever. "He’ll be glad to do it. He can bring the boys home when he brings me back. Cook, too, if you like. But we’ll —he’ll need the station wagon."
    "Fine." Miss Trask nodded.
    When Celia went back into the kitchen, Jim said, grinning, "Tom is henpecked already. The top of Celia’s head just about reaches his chin, but she’s certainly going to be the boss of that family."
    "That’s what happens to he-men when they fall in love," Mart said, shaking his head with disapproval. "In the words of Kipling, ‘The female of the species is more deadly than the male.
    "Is that so?" Trixie demanded.
    "Yes, it is so," Mart informed her airily. "Take the black widow spider—"
    "Let’s not and say we did," Honey interrupted with a shiver. "Which reminds me, it’s Halloween next Friday. Don’t you think we ought to have a party here, Miss Trask?"
    Miss Trask shook her head. "I’m sorry, dear. Have you forgotten? Your mother is giving a dinner party that night."
    "I know," Trixie said. "Moms and Dad are invited. So let’s have the party at our house. It’ll still be Indian summer, so it’ll be warm enough so we can roast franks on our outdoor grill. So—" "So, so, so-so," Mart interrupted. "How you love that word, Sis, when it isn’t spelled s-e-w." "Don’t," Di cried suddenly. "Please don’t." "What?" Trixie asked in amazement.
    "Don’t give a party at your house." Di’s cheeks were flaming, and her violet eyes were filmed with tears. "You just can’t give a party at your house. Mother would never forgive me."
    "But I don’t understand," Trixie said. "We planned to invite you, Di, if that’s what you mean."
    "That isn’t what I mean." Di’s voice was high-pitched. "You don’t understand, Trixie Belden, because your house isn’t all cluttered up with servants. When you give a party, you and your brothers do the planning, and you do all the cooking, too."
    "Natch," Mart said easily. "Who else?"
    For answer, Di jumped up and ran out of the dining room.
    "How do you like that?" Mart asked, bewildered. "What did I say to make her mad?"
    Jim coughed. "I think it’s about time we menfolk departed."
    "You’re all excused," Miss Trask said, pushing back her chair.
    Honey and Trixie raced upstairs to Di’s room. She was lying facedown on the bed, shaking with sobs and weeping into the pillows.
    "Please don’t cry," Trixie begged her. "Mart didn’t mean anything. What is wrong, Di?"
    Miss Trask