The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder

“Well, would we?” she demanded, and her eyes began to water. Then she answered her own question. “Yes, we would!” And she threw back her head and shouted with laughter, while Mart glared across the room at her.
    Trixie’s laughter was contagious, and in the next moment, first Honey, and then the others began laughing with her.
    Mart did his best to hang on to what dignity he could. “It’s not funny,” he kept repeating. “Aw, come on, you guys. It’s not that funny.”
    But it was that funny, because Mart’s news had been so unexpected. The more he protested, the more the Bob-Whites howled with laughter, until Mart himself began to smile and finally to laugh, ruefully, with the others.
    They were still laughing a few minutes later, when Harrison, the Lynches’ reserved and solemn butler, appeared in the doorway. He raised a disapproving eyebrow at the Bob-Whites’ hilarity, which made them laugh harder than ever.
    “Lunch is served, miss,” Harrison announced to Di at last, when he could make himself heard.
    Mart stopped laughing instantly. “Good,” he said promptly. “I’m starved. Come on, everyone. Didn’t you hear? It’s lunchtime, and I’m about to faint if I don’t get something to eat.”
    “Besides,” Honey said, wiping her eyes, “we’ve still got to hear the rest of Mart’s news.”
    “You’re r-right, Honey,” Trixie gasped, holding her side, which now ached from laughing so hard. “And I don’t know why I should think so, but it’ll even be good to see Mart’s appetite back to normal at last.”
    She was not disappointed. For the first time in weeks, Mart ate everything that was put in front of him.
    Even Harrison stood approvingly at Mart’s elbow while Trixie’s almost-twin demolished three bowlfuls of soup, half a dozen ham and cheese sandwiches, and two huge wedges of chocolate cake.
    While Harrison was in the room, the Bob-Whites talked idly among themselves of unimportant matters, though Trixie could tell that everyone was thinking about what Mart would tell them as soon as lunch was over.
    Mart must have known it, too, for the door had no sooner closed behind Harrison’s stiff back than he leaned forward and said, “Okay, is everyone ready now?”
    The Bob-Whites nodded solemnly, and sat back in their chairs to listen.
    “It all began,” Mart said, “as I told you, when I joined Mr. Zimmerman’s journalism class. It started out fine, except I couldn’t seem to write the stuff old Zimmerman wanted to print.”
    “What really did happen about last week’s article, Mart?” Trixie asked.
    Mart scowled. “It was just like I told you, Trix. It was another article I’d slaved over, and Zimmerman didn’t like it.”
    “And did you write up one of our adventures?” Honey asked.
    Mart shook his head. “No, I didn’t write about one of them. I wrote about them all.”
    Trixie gasped. “Every one?”
    “Every one,” Mart replied, “and d’you know what old Zimmerman said? He said I had a good imagination, but the whole article was unbelievable. Can you beat it? Our adventures couldn't have happened, as far as he was concerned.“
    “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Mart,” Brian said firmly. “Tell us about—” his mouth twitched— “Miss Lonelyheart.”
    Mart sighed. “I really backed into that one. I kept on writing articles, like I told you. And old Zimmerman kept turning them down, so I tried to think of something he would accept.”
    “And?” Honey prompted.
    “And so I got this idea of writing a regular weekly column.” Mart’s face was flushed again. “I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand, honest! I got to thinking it could be something like household hints, or something similar.”
    “I think that was a good idea,” Honey said at once. “Lots of people like to read stuff like that.“
    “I looked into that old book that Moms uses all the time,” Mart confessed, looking at Trixie. “There’re all kinds of things in there, like how to get stains out of tablecloths, and how to keep cut flowers from wilting—”
    Trixie nodded. “I remember.”
    Mart bit his lip. “But then I had to get clever,” he said. “Shortly after Mr. Zimmerman had approved a household hints column, I overheard a couple of the guys talking in the gym. One of them wanted to know how he should go about asking a girl to go with him to the spring dance. So I stuck that question in the column, too, along with my answer.”
    Brian looked at