The Mysterious Visitor

frames."
    He glared at her. "Little girls who frequent Hawthorne Street shouldn’t make a habit of asking impertinent questions."
    "So you know about that?" Trixie asked coolly. "Do you also know that I happened to notice that your friend Olyfant had a package of the Lynches’ personalized book matches? Maybe you can tell me how he got them. Or how you happened to know I was on Hawthorne Street."
    He ignored her questions. "The fact that you were seen on Hawthorne Street can only mean one thing. You were contacting a fence so you could sell those portraits. If Mr. Lynch knew as much about you as I do he wouldn’t allow you to speak to his daughter."
    Trixie’s heart sank. More than ever now she wished she had never gone near Hawthorne Street. She had got a clue, but it was one she would never be able to use. In fact, everything she had done so far in order to prove that this man was an impostor could be twisted and turned to be used against her.
    She could tell by the mean expression in his small brown eyes that he knew she was helpless. That made Trixie mad. Disdainfully she touched the portraits with her bare toe. "Oh, go ahead and bum them," she said airily. "They don’t mean a thing. If you’ll notice the signature of the artist, you’ll see that he is one of the most famous portrait painters in America. I happen to know about him, because he painted Mrs. Wheeler s portrait. He’s a very young man, Uncle Monty, and must have been born a long time after Mrs. Lynch’s parents died."
    He stared at her in chagrined amazement.
    "I don’t know why we both didn’t realize in the beginning," Trixie continued, "that those portraits were done from photographs. Mrs. Lynch’s family was very poor. Poor people can’t afford to have their portraits painted. She must have had them done quite recently and told the artist to give them blue eyes simply because her own are blue." Trixie tossed her head. "So now, Uncle Monty, you don’t have to be any more afraid of me than I am of you. I think you’re an impostor, but I have no way of proving it." She swept past him into the dining room, thinking, Not yet, anyway.
    Back in Di’s room, safely snuggled under the covers, Trixie lay awake for a long time, trying to think of another way of proving that Uncle Monty was an impostor. "There just has to be some good way to prove it," she thought desperately, "but how?"

Too Many Problems • 15

    THE NEXT MORNING Trixie woke Di up early and told her what had happened on the terrace the night before.
    "I think we ought to tell Dad right now," Di said as they dressed for school. "Why, Monty as good as confessed to you that he is an impostor." Trixie shook her head. "No, he didn’t. I hoped he’d say something that would give us a clue to who he really is, but all he did was threaten me." Diana shivered. "He’s a horrid man. Let’s have breakfast in the nursery with the twins so we won’t have to look at him."
    "That would be fun," Trixie said. "I haven’t seen them since they were babies. But will the nurses let us?"
    "They had better," Di said firmly. "I’m sick and tired of being bossed by servants. Honey is very polite to the people who work on her place, but you notice she doesn’t let them make her life miserable."
    Trixie chuckled. In a short time Honey had done wonders! Di was already well on the road to becoming her usual cheerful self. "Honey is just about perfect," Trixie said to Di as they hurried down the hall toward the nursery wing. "I love her."
    "I do, too," Di said. "And that’s one reason why I hate Monty. He heard me telling Dad and Mother about how Honey is just getting over being scared of spiders and snakes. He doesn’t want Honey to like me. That’s why he planted all those awful things around at the party. That’s also why he tried to make Regan mad. He pretends to like my friends, but you notice he’s always trying to break up my friendships." Trixie nodded. "Well, he’ll be gone soon. And that’s what worries me. Today is Friday. Suppose your father gives him that check tomorrow. He’ll drive off with the trailer, and nobody will ever hear of him again."
    "I know," Di agreed. "That’s why you ought to tell Dad what you know about Monty."
    "I can’t," Trixie moaned. "Not without getting into a lot of trouble. I did sneak into the gallery on Halloween. Before that Harrison saw me swipe a candle from the dining room. He doesn’t know why I took it, but don’t you see? If your dad