The Mystery of the Antique Doll

Trixie said, as she watched it drive off into the early dusk. “Looks to me as if a person could make an awful lot of money in the antique business, doesn’t it?”
    “What?” asked Honey. She had not been paying attention.
    “Maybe we ought to consider an annual antique fair to raise money for the Bob-Whites and for UNICEF,” said Trixie. “We did pretty well the last time we tried it.”
    Trixie was thinking about the time the Bob-Whites held a fair not only to raise money for UNICEF, but also to prove to the principal of their school and the members of the school board that they weren’t a “bad” gang. In the course of collecting antiques for the show, they had discovered a mysterious code and a mystery to solve.
    “We made money, Trixie, but not enough to buy a car like that,” Honey answered, with a laugh. “A Mercedes-Benz costs thousands and thousands of dollars!”
    “You know,” Trixie said thoughtfully, “you’re right. I’m willing to bet there’s something funny about that man—and his antique business, too.”



2 * Trixie and Honey Help Out

    “SCURRILOUS,” Mart said, grinning devilishly. He glanced briefly at the paper in his hand, and then looked at Trixie expectantly.
    “Er, s-c-u-r-r-i-l—is it one I or two?” asked Trixie, as she stumbled onto the school bus and got a seat near the back.
    “One,” Mart said, sliding in behind her. “Start from the beginning again.”
    “Oh, all right. S-c-u-r-r-i-l-o-u-s!” Trixie said.
    Honey, who was sitting next to Trixie, pulled out the word list to check the correct spelling. Both of them were finalists in the local spelling contest. They were studying hard for the Eastern Regional Spelling Contest that would be held in New York City in two weeks. The winner of the Eastern Regional would get a chance at the national competition in Washington, D.C.
    “Fish,” Mart said, with a pompous expression on his face.
    “Fish?” Trixie said. “Fish isn’t on that list!”
    “So what? I’m the one who’s testing you,” Mart said, “so you have to spell the words I give you. Now, spell fish!”
    “F-i-s-h!” Trixie shouted.
    “Wrong,” Mart said, with a haughty sniff. “It’s g-h-o-t-i.”
    “It is not!” Trixie wailed. “And you’re wasting my time with all this.”
    “Now wait a minute,” Mart said. “This is an example of how ridiculous spelling in the English language can be. See, gh is the f sound in rough; o is the i sound in women ; ti is the sh sound in motion. So—g-h-o-t-i! Fish!”
    “If you’re so smart, Mart Belden,” Trixie snapped, “why didn’t you win the spelling contest, huh?”
    Mart blushed furiously and looked at the floor. Although he was the smartest of all the Beldens, Mart had a lot of trouble with spelling.
    “I only understand things that have intrinsically logical rules,” Mart snapped back peevishly. “And spelling is based on centuries of erroneous whims, dubious derivations, and illogical usage. It is, consequently, beneath my contempt!”
    “Only someone who can’t spell would say something like that,” Trixie began. But when she saw her brother’s embarrassment she felt bad.
    “Oh, I’m sorry, Mart. Come on, ask me another one!”
    “How about fluorescence?” Mart said, regaining his usual superior attitude.
    “Oh goodness,” Trixie said, with a sigh. “Are you sure that’s one of the words?”
    “Yup,” Mart said efficiently. “Hurry up. You haven’t got all day, you know.”
    “Ugh! F-l-u-o-r-e-s—um—c-e-n-c-e!”
    “Perfect, little sister. Your mnemonics are improving!”
    “Her what?” Honey said as the bus turned a corner.
    “Mnemonics is the art of developing the memory,” Mart explained. “And furthermore—”
    “Gleeps!” Trixie yelled, leaping to her feet in the lurching bus. “Speaking of memory, Honey, we’re getting off now. Don’t you remember? We’re stopping to help Mrs. De Keyser.”
    Trixie dashed to the front of the bus. She bent down and explained the unexpected stop to the bus driver, who nodded. The bus wheezed to a halt in front of a trim little white house, and Honey and Trixie clattered down the steps. They waved to Mart as the bus pulled away from them.
    Trixie shivered as she zipped up her jacket.
    “It might be time to start wearing a sweater under this. I can’t believe that winter will soon be here. Only last week it was Halloween!”
    Honey pulled her jacket closed, and zipped up too. They were standing on the