The Mystery in Arizona

Trixie, Di, and Honey could look at the charms as she pointed to them one at a time. “Golf dubs, a tennis racket, sailboat, hockey stick, croquet mallet, polo mallet, bowling ball, skis, boxing gloves, surfboard—”
    “Whoa!” her brother Billy interrupted with a shout. “Listing your charms could go on forever.”
    “Thank you,” Sally said with a little curtsy. “I knew that other boys thought I was charming, but I didn’t realize my own dear brothers appreciated me so much.”
    “Ugh,” Bob groaned. “She got us that time, Billy. And we’ll never hear the end of it.” He turned to Trixie and confided in a loud whisper, “Sally was born vain, and we’ve been trying to cure her of it ever since she was in the playpen stage.”
    Sally, who was very pretty, blushed. She had Honey’s coloring—hazel eyes and golden-brown hair —and Trixie thought she had a right to be vain.
    “She's nice, too,” Trixie told herself. “All of the Wellingtons are nice and lots of fun. We’ll have grand times together during the rest of the holidays.”
    “I am not vain,” Sally was saying. “Oh, isn’t it awful, Trixie, to have two brothers who do nothing but tease you from morning to night?”
    “It is,” Trixie agreed. “Actually, I am blessed with three brothers, and all of them are awful nuisances.” Mart and Brian hooted in unison with Bob and Billy Wellington.
    “Could anything be worse than having a sister?” they asked one another in loud voices. They replied to their own questions immediately, “Nothing except having two sisters.”
    Trixie and Sally pretended to ignore them, and Sally said pointedly, “Good heavens, don’t tell me you have another one of the awful creatures at home? Is he older or younger?”
    “Younger,” said Trixie. “He’s Petey’s age.”
    Sally frowned. “Petey? Who’s he?”
    Trixie tried to explain about the Orlandos and their mysterious disappearances, but all of the other Bob-Whites insisted upon joining in so nobody made much sense. At last Bob Wellington held up his hand for silence.
    “Enough, enough,” he begged. “This is Christmas Eve, not Halloween. Let there be no more talk of skeletons and giant apes and men with green faces and red horns.”
    “I agree,” said Billy heartily. “But one thing is certain: If you kids are working to take their places here at the ranch, we re going to help you.”
    "We certainly are,” Sally added. “And with all of us working, there should be plenty of free time for riding and sight-seeing.”
    “Great!” the Bob-Whites shouted.
    “We don t need any more cooks,” Jim added. “Too many would spoil the broth. Mrs. Sherman’s broth,” he explained in a whisper. “But the girls could probably use help in the housekeeping department.”
    “We certainly could,” Trixie announced crisply. “Who is the best bed-maker in the Wellington family?”
    “I am,” Sally said dismally when her brothers instead of replying, stared up at the ceiling, whistling and tapping their feet. “But I don’t like to do it, and I’m not much better than the boys.”
    “That settles it,” said Trixie. “I hereby appoint Bob Wellington to take my place.”
    Bob groaned, covering his face with his hands and cringing elaborately.
    “And to think,” he moaned, “that, as Mark Twain said when he got seasick, I got myself into this of my own free will.”
    “Trixie needs someone to take her place,” Honey said quickly. “She has to study for a while every day, you know. And Jim and Brian do give her such dreadfully hard problems.”
    “Oh?” Billy and Bob gave Trixie inquiring glances.
    Trixie’s cheeks flamed. “I’m being tutored,” she confessed ashamedly.
    “That’s something,” Sally said quickly and cheerfully, “that ought to be happening to me. That is, if I hope to pass the midyears.”
    “Let’s don’t talk about such unpleasant subjects,” Di begged. “Not on Christmas Eve, anyway. I’m not being tutored, and I probably won’t pass the midyears, but I don’t want to think about it now.”
    “Suits me,” said Billy. “Anyway, all kidding aside, you kids can count on us to help with anything you need us for, as of now. You know that goes without saying, don’t you?” His brother and sister smiled in agreement.
    The Bob-Whites nodded. The Wellingtons were swell kids, Trixie thought. Why, it was almost as though they were Bob-Whites. Maybe someday they would become members.
    As though she