The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

huddled at the curbs under umbrellas. Nobody talks or laughs, and everyone seems just miserable.”
    “At least negative atmospheric conditions permit intensive inhalations,” Mart said with a frown. “The magnitude of this assemblage is overwhelming.’’
    “The crowd is half the fun and you know it, Mart Belden,” Trixie said. “It’s just as Honey said — this is the one day of the year when you can see just about everyone.”
    “I don’t see Moms and Dad and Bobby,” Brian said, his eyes scanning the crowd. “I hope they got close enough so that Bobby will get a good view.”
    “Even if they don’t, Bobby will charm his way to the front,” Honey said.
    Bobby was the fourth and youngest of the Belden siblings. Honey Wheeler, who had no younger brothers or sisters of her own, was devoted to the energetic six-year-old. Trixie loved him, too, but she was more likely than Honey to lose patience with his antics.
    “Oh, look,” Di Lynch said. “There’s old Brom and Mrs. Vanderpoel.”
    The other Bob-Whites looked to where Di was pointing. Sure enough, the two old people were waiting for the parade with as much excitement as the teenagers across the street from them. Old Brom and Mrs. Vanderpoel had lived in the country near Sleepyside all their lives.
    “Just think how many Memorial Day parades they’ve been to,” Trixie said, her eyes widening at the thought. “Probably since the days when there were real torches to light the parade, instead of streetlights that make it bright as day.”
    “Isn’t that Nick Roberts across the street?” Jim asked.
    “That’s Nick, all right,” Trixie said. She raised her hand and waved, and Nick waved back.
    “He’s certainly friendlier now than he was when we first met him,” Honey said. “Remember that day at the art fair?”
    “I certainly do,” Trixie said, wrinkling her nose. “I also remember how unfriendly he was when I told him we were going to sponsor a bikeathon to raise money for the art department at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. I thought he’d be happy about it, since he’d already told us how badly the art department needed money for supplies and equipment. Instead, he was downright rude!”
    “There’s no excuse for being rude, but Nick Roberts had an awful lot on his mind just then,” Brian said. “His mother was in poor health and his father’s business was failing. Not to mention the fact that Nick wanted to get into art school, but couldn’t get enough experience because Sleepyside didn’t have the equipment he needed.”
    “It does now,” Jim said.
    “I hope Nick doesn’t stop doing his marvelous pen-and-ink drawings,” Honey said. “He admitted he chose that medium because pen and ink and paper were the only supplies he could afford. But I can’t imagine any piece of sculpture or pottery more beautiful than the drawing Nick did of the Manor House. That’s how we first met him — when I saw that drawing at the art fair.”
    The drawing of Crabapple Farm is just as beautiful,” Trixie said. The old farmhouse where the Beldens lived wasn’t as fancy as the Wheeler mansion, but it was just as well loved by the people who lived there. “Moms loved it when I gave her the drawing for Mother’s Day. It’s a good thing I didn’t keep it for myself, although I’d planned to until you said you were buying the picture of the Manor House for your mother.” Trixie sighed. “I’ll never be as generous as you are, Honey.”
    “It took a generous person to come up with the idea of having a bikeathon to raise money for art supplies,” Jim said. “If it weren’t for you, Trixie, Nick would still be doing only pen and ink — and not by choice.”
    Trixie felt herself starting to blush, as she often did when anyone paid her a compliment. Having the compliment come from Jim made the blush even deeper. All the Bob-Whites knew about the special feelings that Jim and Trixie had for one another, even though Trixie denied it and both of the young people tried not to show it.
    “Well, I’m not responsible for the end of all of Nick’s troubles,” Trixie said quickly. “Look — the woman he’s standing next to must be his mother. That means her health has improved. I’m sure that’s a load off Nick’s mind.”
    “I’ve heard his father’s business has improved, too,” Jim said. “Mr. Roberts is a master engraver, you know, and he was trying to get by with trophies and plaques and things that needed