The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

said.
    “Yum!” Trixie said. “It’s worth it, it’s worth it! I’ll be your willing slave all afternoon.”
    “Right now,” Brian said, “what you need to be is a dedicated club member. Let’s go, Trix!”
    Calling final good-byes, the three Beldens left the house and walked down the path to their clubhouse.
    The clubhouse, which was on the Wheeler estate, had originally been the gatehouse for the Manor House. It had fallen into disuse and been hidden by weeds for years before the Bob-Whites rediscovered it and made it their own. They had spent hours working on the two-room building, adding a wood floor over the dirt one, fixing the roof, which had caved in during a storm, and putting up shelves in the storage room for sports equipment. With the addition of the bright, cheerful curtains that Honey had sewed, the conference room of the clubhouse had become a favorite place for meetings, parties, and projects.
    Because of its remote location, winters tended to be hard on the clubhouse. Each spring, the Bob-Whites had to repair the damage caused by howling winds and sub-zero temperatures. Each year, too, they tried to make a few repairs or improvements that would make the clubhouse more useful and comfortable than it had been the year before. The problem, though, was that everyone had a different idea of how the limited time and money for the clubhouse should be spent. At the spring meeting, the Bob-Whites decided whose ideas they’d turn into action.
    When Trixie and her brothers entered the clubhouse, the meeting was ready to begin. Honey and Jim were already there, as were Dan and Di. Dan and Di were the least active members of the Bob-Whites. Dan’s work kept him too busy for many of the activities. Di’s two sets of twin brothers and sisters kept her busy as well, even though each set of twins had a private nurse. But everyone knew that this meeting was too important to pass up.
    “Oh, Trixie, did you see our pictures in the paper this morning?” Di asked.
    “I certainly did,” Trixie said, her welcoming smile instantly turning to a scowl. “I think that — ”
    “Ahem,” Jim said, acting quickly to head off a tirade from Trixie. “As co-president of the Bob-Whites of the Glen, I hereby call this meeting to order. Is that all right with you, Madame Co-President?”
    “That’s fine,” Trixie said with a wave of her hand. “I’d just as soon not think about the picture or the parade or any of the rest of it, ever again.”
    “Thank you,” Jim said. “The first and only item on today’s agenda is to decide what summer projects we want to take on for the clubhouse. I suggest that we all have a little tour first, to see what damage was done this winter and remind ourselves of the projects we’d thought of last fall.” The tour didn’t take long. Soon the Bob-Whites were back in their seats, all of them looking dejected.
    “All of the windowpanes need reputtying,” Dan said. “The breeze is blowing right through.”
    “The condition of the decorative pigment is pathetic,” Mart said.
    “The paint job is bad,” Brian said. “The worst part is that paint isn’t just decorative. It protects the wood, too, which means we’ll have even worse problems if we don’t get the clubhouse painted this summer.”
    “At least the inside still looks nice,” Trixie said, looking around at the cozy little room.
    “Correction — the conference room looks nice. The storage room is a mess,” Jim said. “I thought we’d built enough shelves in there to store everything we’d ever own, but they’re already full. We’ll have to add more.”
    “Paint, putty, and shelves,” Vice-President Honey Wheeler said, writing the list down in a small notebook. “Does anyone have anything to add to the list?”
    “Isn’t that enough?” Trixie asked. “Painting this whole clubhouse and puttying all those windows will take every spare moment this summer — that is, every moment I don’t spend working in the garden or baby-sitting for Bobby or whatever else Moms needs help with.”
    “You overlook the importance of those maternal requests,” Mart said. “It is through those endeavors that we will garner the funds needed to implement our plans.”
    “Spoken like a true treasurer,” Brian told his brother. “Paint will be expensive, and the lumber for shelves won’t be exactly cheap. I suppose our treasury is nearly empty, as usual.”
    “Unfortunately, you’re right,” Mart said. “Our