The Mysterious Visitor

but it doesn’t mean that we’re liars."
    "Uncle Monty is, though," Diana insisted. "He told us that he made a lot of money but he lost it all because he’s been sick for the past ten years. But if you could see him eat, you’d know that he’s as healthy as an ox. I think he just pretends to be sick so he won’t have to work, and that means he’ll live with us for the rest of his life. If you want my candied opinion—"
    "The word is can did," Mart interrupted and was promptly silenced by Brian, who gave him a brotherly punch and said sternly:
    "Keep your outsize vocabulary to yourself, bud. Go on, Di."
    But it was too late. Di wordlessly shook her head, wheeled stiffly, then broke into a run. The Bob-Whites helplessly watched her as she raced across the lawn and up the steps to the big house.

Halloween Plans • 6

    NOW YOU’VE done it," Trixie cried, giving Mart a disgusted look. "Di is sure to pack up and go home."
    "I’m sorry," Mart said, shamefaced. "I was just trying to be funny. I mean, she gets so tense about everything, I thought if she laughed she might relax."
    "She is tense." Honey agreed. "But it’s just because she hasn’t had any fun for a long time, Mart. When you’re unhappy you don’t have a sense of humor. I’m going up to her room now and try to talk her into staying."
    Brian nodded. "We’d better skip initiation in her case. Trixie, you go up to the garage and check on Regan. Take Bobby with you. If Regan is mad, Bobby will be a big help. He adores the kid." Bobby, who hadn’t been listening to their conversation until now, grinned and took Trixie’s hand. "Regan ’dores me," he said smugly. "And I ’dore Regan. He never gets mad at me."
    The girls started off with Bobby between them. When they reached the steps, they saw that the Lynches’ limousine was moving down the driveway. Mr. Wilson was alone in the front, and he was staring curiously at the house. There was no one in the backseat.
    "Well, Di’s still here, anyway," Honey said. "Trixie, we’ve got to be awfully careful of what we say to her. She’s very sensitive about her mother and her uncle. Let’s keep the conversation away from them. Even if Mr. Wilson isn’t quite honest, we ought not to talk about it in front of Di!"
    "Okay," Trixie agreed. She and Bobby hurried on to the stable and found Regan in the tack room cleaning a saddle. "Hello, Regan," Trixie said nervously. "How are you?"
    He dropped the sponge and placed both hands on his hips as he stared down at her. "What goes on here, anyway?" he demanded. Then he scooped die little boy into his arms. "Is your sister nuts or something?" he asked Bobby. " ‘How am I?’ she asks, a question she never asked me before in her whole life. A lot she cares how I am. And it’s plain to be seen that I never felt better. Do I look sick?" he asked Trixie.
    "No," Trixie said, flushing. "But I just wanted to know. You’re not mad at anybody, are you?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Should I be? Don’t bother to answer. I should be, but I haven’t found out why yet. What have you kids been up to?"
    "Nothing," Trixie replied hastily. Then, because her curiosity got the better of her, she blurted, "How did you get on with Mr. Wilson?"
    Regan guffawed. "Why, just fine. He’s a nice little man, but what he doesn’t know about horses would fill the Sleepyside Public Library."
    "But, Regan," Trixie cried, "he used to be a broncobuster. He must know a lot about horses." Regan laughed so hard that he had to set Bobby down on the floor in order to wipe his streaming eyes. "Broncobuster! Unless I miss my guess, that guy’s never been on a horse in all his life."
    "But he said—" Trixie began and interrupted herself. "I can’t understand this. Why did he come out here posing as an expert?"
    "That I can’t tell you," Regan said. "Unless he thought he could fool me. He’s been reading up on the subject, all right. Uses words like spavin and fetlock correctly. Good grooms are scarce, in case you don’t know it. A lot of rich people have to hire guys who don’t know much more than Mr. Wilson. But if you’ve spent most of your life with horses, as I have, you can see through that kind of bluff right away."
    "Does he know you saw through him?" Trixie asked thoughtfully.
    "Certainly not," Regan replied emphatically. "Would that have been polite of me? He’s the pretty little girl’s uncle, isn’t he?"
    "I’m not so sure that he is," Trixie said, thinking out loud.