The Mysterious Visitor

your—"
    "Dad’s right," Brian interrupted. "Now that I’ve got my driver’s license; I can pack our junk in the station wagon and move it down to the clubhouse in one trip. It’ll be handy to have the sleds, skis, and ice skates there. We’ve always done most of our winter sports at the Manor House, anyway." "True," Mart agreed. "If it doesn’t rain this weekend, we can finish the roof."
    "And we’ll move everything down there first thing. There’ll be plenty of room."
    Riding abreast now, they cantered across a field. Then they stopped to give the horses a rest. "I can’t stop thinking about Di and her suitcase," Trixie said. "Why is she so tense about it?"
    "That I don’t know," Mart said. "I can’t even hazard a guess. But you’re right about one thing, Sis. She is very unhappy."
    "I wish we could ask her to become a member of our club," Trixie said.
    "I’m glad you said that." Brian smiled. "That’s the way Honey and Jim feel, and that’s the way I feel, too. Is it okay by you, Mart?"
    "Natch," Mart said. "Boy! Let’s think up something terrific in the way of initiation. How about making her walk the ridgepole of the clubhouse roof? Or we could make her sleep out in the woods alone for an entire night. Or maybe we could-"
    "Now, wait a minute," Trixie interrupted. "Nothing like that," Brian said soberly. "She’s so jumpy now I think we Bob-Whites ought to skip initiation in her case."
    "What makes you think she’s jumpy?" Trixie asked. "Did she do anything peculiar while I was cleaning the garage?"
    "Yes and no," Brian said. "When we got off the bus, I changed my clothes and went straight up to the Wheelers’. Jim was still up in his room, so I waited for him on the porch. Di was talking to someone on the phone in the study. I tried not to listen, but I couldn’t help it. She was crying and saying over and over again, ‘Oh, please don’t. Please don’t.’ "
    "Well, for pete’s sake!" Mart exclaimed. "What do you suppose that was all about? Didn’t she try to explain?"
    "She didn’t see me. I stayed out on the porch, and a minute later Jim came downstairs. I guess Di went up to her room."
    Trixie sighed. "She must have been talking to her mother about the suitcase. I can’t see why she cares whether it arrives or not. Why should it make so much difference to her?"
    "Maybe her mother was angry with her about something," Mart suggested hopefully.
    "I don’t think she was talking to her mother," Brian said slowly. "Because when she hung up I heard her say, ‘Oh, I hate him. I hate him!’ "

A Long-lost Relative • 3

    HATE HIM?" Trixie repeated in amazement. "Why, who, I mean whom, could she have been talking to? Who could Di hate?"
    "Her father, maybe?" Brian asked.
    "Oh, no," Trixie cried. "Mr. Lynch is one of the kindest men who ever lived. He’s big and fat in a jolly way and so generous everyone who knows him loves him. Mrs. Lynch is darling, too. She used to be awfully jolly. The last time I saw her she was—" Trixie stopped.
    "Was what?" Mart demanded.
    "Kind of formal," Trixie told him. "Di invited me for lunch right after they bought that big place, and, dopey me, I thought things would be just the same. So I appeared in jeans and—" "—looking the way you do now," Mart finished, "as though you had just finished cleaning a garage. You probably scared the Lynches’ servants. I hear they have a flock of ’em."
    "Oh, stop it," Trixie cried. "I don’t clean the garage every day."
    "No," Mart admitted. "To my certain knowledge, you’ve never cleaned the garage before in your life. And, I gather, since Dad laid down the law about our junk, it’s not what you’d call pristine right now."
    "Let’s stick to the subject," Brian said, giving his younger brother a light punch on the arm. "Go on, Trix. What happened at the luncheon?" "Well," Trixie began, "it was a very elaborate luncheon, complete with the butler and a maid. Just for us three—me and Di and her mother. The twins eat in their big nursery, which is in a separate wing of the house. The food was yummy, but, frankly, I felt so uncomfortable I didn’t enjoy it much. I guess Di knew how I felt, because she never invited me again."
    "Tactful you," Mart said in disgust.
    "I couldn’t help it," Trixie said forlornly. "I kept thinking how much more fun I would have had if I’d stayed home and eaten Moms’s sandwiches and cookies."
    "It’s getting dark," Brian said. "We had better remount now and start back." They