The Mysterious Visitor

underneath he’s really mean. When I talked to him on the phone yesterday, I told him he mustn’t speak to Regan. I told him how important Regan is. But Uncle Monty will make him mad, all right. Just wait and see."
    No one said anything for several minutes. The idea of anyone criticizing Regan was almost too awful to think about. He might quit and then, because there never could be another Regan, Mr. Wheeler would certainly sell all the horses.
    "He is mean," Di continued. "My uncle, not Regan. He keeps doing things in that sly way of his to make me miserable. Take those silly evening dresses Mother packed in my suitcase. Uncle Monty made her buy them for me just because he knew what I really wanted was some jeans. He’ll think, of some way to ruin my Halloween party, too. I just know he will."
    "He sounds like an awfully mean person." Trixie agreed. "And your mother is so sweet. It must be hard for you to believe that he is her brother." Diana jumped up, her violet eyes blazing. "I see what you’re driving at now, Trixie Belden! You’re insinuating that my uncle is an impostor." Trixie flushed guiltily, because, of course, she had been thinking just that. "I’m sorry, Di," she mumbled. "I was just wondering, that’s all. You did say that your uncle left home when your mother was just a baby. And then he suddenly turned up on Monday night. I couldn’t help sort of suspecting that maybe he isn’t your real uncle. But, of course, he must have had baby pictures of her and all that kind of thing to prove that he really is."
    "Of course he did," Honey said soothingly.
    And then to everyone’s surprise, Di suddenly whirled on Honey. "Of course he didn’t," she cried. "He didn’t have a single solitary thing to prove that he is my mother’s brother."
    Trixie’s mouth fell open with surprise. "Then you think he’s an impostor, Di?"
    "No, I don’t," Di replied. "Because he said all the right things. He told Mother all about the night she was born—he knew the exact hour and date and where they were living then. Besides, he’s been lost—if you want to call it that—for about thirty-five years, so how can you expect him to have saved anything like baby pictures of my mother, even if there were any?"
    "There probably weren’t any." Trixie agreed cheerfully. "Babies in poor families don’t go around having their pictures taken. Please forgive me, Di. I was completely wrong, and I didn’t mean a thing I said."
    Diana smiled. "There’s nothing to forgive, Trix. As a matter of fact, I wish my uncle were an impostor. What I really mean is, I wish he’d go away."
    "Oh, oh," Trixie interrupted. "A limousine just turned into the driveway. Come on, Di. We’ve got to keep your uncle away from Regan. We’ve just got toi"

Di’s Initiation • 5

    THE LYNCHES’ big, shiny limousine had turned around at the head of the driveway and was parked by the stable when Trixie, followed by Di, Honey, and Jim, got there. A small, thin man, who was wearing a dark suit and light spats, climbed out from behind the wheel. He looked so dressed up for that hour of the morning that Trixie couldn’t help staring at him in surprise.
    Still out of breath from running, Di panted, "Hello, Uncle Monty. This—is—are—Honey Wheeler and Trixie Belden and Jim Frayne."
    A broad smile crinkled Mr. Wilson’s weatherbeaten face. "Howdy, podners," he said. While he Was shaking hands with each one, Regan appeared and was introduced. "Howdy, podner," Mr. Wilson greeted him. "I take it you’re the groom. Came out to give the hosses a look-see. Know quite a bit about hossflesh, if I do say so myself, podner."
    "Great," Regan said pleasantly. "We bought a mare and a gelding dirt cheap in August. I’d like to hear what you think of them."
    "Oh, no, Uncle Monty," Diana cried quickly. "You mustn’t take up Regan’s time. He’s really awfully busy today."
    "Yes, that’s right," Honey added. "Some other time, Mr. Wilson, when you’re in riding clothes would be much, much better."
    Before she had finished speaking, Jim said, "You can’t judge a horse properly unless you put it through its gaits."
    And Trixie said, "You must let us show you around the Wheelers’ place, Mr. Wilson. It’s very beautiful at this time of year when the chrysanthemums are blooming and the dahlias and all." "Say, what’s the matter with you kids?" Regan demanded, scratching the back of his head with a puzzled expression on his face. "Since when did you ever