The Mysterious Visitor

interested, you’ve ruined everything. How can we initiate Di with Bob— I mean, you-know-whom—in our hair?"
    "In case you’re interested," Mart said airily, "that is what the initiation ceremony is going to consist of. We thought of blindfolding her and making her walk a plank into the lake. We even went so far, in our fiendish way, of planning that she should pound her thumbs to a pulp while we supervised her as she finished shingling the roof. Then it came to us. What better opportunity could she have of proving that she is worthy of being a member of the brotherly and sisterly secret society known as B.W.G’s than by coping all the rest of the day, alone and absolutely unassisted, with the devil incarnate in the form of young Bobert Belden, Esquire?"
    Trixie, convulsed with laughter, collapsed on the sled Brian had just brought in. The three older boys joined in her laughter. Honey smiled rather nervously, but Di stood at the entrance to the cottage looking completely bewildered. She looked from Trixie to the boys to Honey and back to Trixie again.
    "I—I don’t understand what you’re talking about," she said after a while. "I know you can t join any secret club without being initiated in one way or another, but what will I—"
    Honey threw one arm around Di’s shoulder.
    "It couldn’t be simpler, Di," she said. "All you have to do is keep Bobby amused, and he’s really a little angel, in spite of what Mart said. He can sail boats in the wading pool up near the house, and Regan will give him a riding lesson on Lady about eleven, then it’ll be time to clean up for lunch, and then after lunch he has a long nap—" "Not forgetting the comics," Trixie interrupted. "He suffers from insomnia in the daytime, Di, which means you have to read Peter Rabbit to him over and over again. And as for Regan and the riding lesson, how do you know Regan hasn’t already quit?"
    "Regan—quit?" Brian and Mart almost shouted in one quick breath.
    Trixie explained while her older brothers listened in horrified silence. "Of course," she finished, "we’re not absolutely certain that Mr. Wilson will insult Regan. But if he says anything at all that gets Regan’s goat—well, I guess I don’t have to tell you what will happen." She shrugged.
    "Please don’t go into the ghastly details," Mart moaned. "If Regan quits, it’s the end of everything." He turned to Honey. "If that happened, your dad would get rid of the horses, wouldn’t he?"
    Honey was nervously clasping and unclasping her slim hands. "Oh, I don’t know what Daddy would do. He and Regan both have red hair, you know, and the quick tempers that go with it. Although Daddy thinks the world of Regan, I don’t think he’d exactly get down on his hands and knees and beg him to stay if Regan decided to quit right this minute and started to leave in a huff."
    Jim nodded in full agreement. "And we all know that we’d never find another groom who would put up with us kids. But," he added, "we’re probably making a mountain out of a molehill. In spite of what you blondes and brunettes think, redheaded people don’t fly off the handle all the time. Take me, for instance." He grinned. "Why, I’m just the sweetest-tempered boy in the whole wide world!"
    "Is that so?" Trixie demanded with a sniff. "How about that time last summer when you jumped down my throat because I implied that you were not telling the truth?"
    "You know I was telling the truth that time, Trix," Jim insisted, starting to get angry.
    "Sweet-tempered Jim," Trixie chanted and everyone laughed.
    "Don’t mind us, Jim," Honey said at last, "we’re just trying to tease you. Besides, we’ve got another temper to worry about right now. Do you think there’s a chance Uncle Monty won’t say anything insulting to Regan?" Honey asked Di.
    "You don’t know Uncle Monty," Diana answered. "He’s sure to insult Regan somehow. He’s one of those people who knows all the answers. Why, last night he told Dad that our house slowly but surely was being eaten alive by termites."
    Brian laughed, but there wasn’t the slightest sign of a smile in his black eyes. "Is it possible, Di," he asked, "that your uncle is an exaggerator?" "It’s worse than that," Diana said, gulping. "He’s a liar, that’s what he is. Uncle Monty lies all the time. I know it. I know it!"
    "Oh, Di," Honey cried. "You mustn’t talk that way about your mother’s own brother. A lot of people exaggerate. Trixie and I do all the time,