The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

thereby helping Mr. Roberts and themselves at the same time.
    “Some reporter I am,” Jane said. “I had no idea all this was happening. It sounds like a page one story to me — and it will be, as soon as I can sit up at a typewriter again.”
    “Really?” Honey asked. “You’ll write about us in the Sun?”
    “Absolutely. I have a good photo to use with the story, too, as I recall.”
    Honey giggled. “That’s right. I remember when your flash went off and set off Trixie’s temper along with it.”
    “That was before,” Trixie said huffily. “I’m ready to forget the past and think about the future. Why, if Jane writes about us, we’ll get orders for hundreds and hundreds of T-shirts. We won’t have to settle for paint and shelves. We can have wallpaper and carpet and a fireplace and —”
    “Whoa!” Brian said. “We’d better get you home to bed. You’re already dreaming.”
    “I am not,” Trixie protested, but she let Brian pull her to her feet and guide her out of the room.
    At the door, the Beldens met the doctor coming in, carrying his black bag. “Take good care of Jane,” Trixie told him. “She has an important story to write.”
    “This is the star of the story right here,” Brian said to the slightly startled doctor.
    “I’m not the star,” Trixie said. “All the Bob-Whites are.” And that’s just the way it should be, she thought as she and her brothers walked out into the clear summer night, forever and ever.