The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

to be friends with them. Also, she wanted to keep her eyes peeled for clues about the Hart family and Honey’s necklace. Often, she could spot things on her own better than she could when she was with a group. And all the worrying about McDuff had been distracting her from the real purpose of their trip—to follow the trail to Honey’s English ancestors. She was determined not to fail at that.
    “Want me to come along, Trix?” Jim asked.
    That was a real temptation, and knowing Jim wasn’t mad at her about the previous night made her feel good, too. “Thanks a lot,” she said, “but if you came along, all I’d do is talk to you all day.”
    “Well, you’re certainly not going to wander around all by yourself,” Miss Trask said briskly.
    Eventually it was settled that Trixie and Honey would do a little exploring on their own while McDuff took Miss Trask and the boys to see some of the chief tourist attractions.
    “We’ll save Ann Hathaway’s cottage,” McDuff promised. “You girls won’t want to miss the place where Shakespeare’s wife lived before her marriage.”
    “I like small towns like this, where you can walk everywhere you want to go,” Honey said as the girls set off along Waterside Street, on the banks of the Avon.
    They passed the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, and she commented, “Mr. McDuff knows how to get tickets even in the tourist season. Miss Trask says we’ll try to go tomorrow, when Macbeth is playing.” Trixie knit her brows in an evil leer. “ ‘Double, double, toil and trouble,’ ” she chanted nasally, doing her best to imitate Shakespeare’s three witches. “ ‘Fire burn and cauldron—’gleeps!”
    Carried away by her dramatic fervor, Trixie had nearly crashed into two elderly English ladies. At least, she was pretty sure they were English. Wouldn’t you know , she scolded herself. Just when I’m reciting Shakespeare through my nose! They probably think I’m making fun of him, like those people did last night.
    But apparently they didn’t. Both the ladies smiled, and their nice brown eyes were twinkling. Trixie held her breath. This was her chance to get to know the English point of view!
    “We were wondering,” she said, “uh—we were wondering—” Trixie’s mind went blank. What a time to be tongue-tied!
    Honey came to the rescue. “Our friends have gone to see the sights,” she explained. “Trixie and I were just looking around.” Both girls introduced themselves and smiled their friendliest smiles.
    “Have you been in the museum?” the short, stout lady asked.
    Yes, Trixie decided, they were English. She could tell from the way they said been —as in string bean.
    The tall one pointed her umbrella up the steps of the building they were standing in front of, right next to the Theatre. “My sister means the Royal Shakespeare Theatre Picture Gallery and Museum,” she explained. “With your interest in Shakespeare’s plays, you shouldn’t miss it. You have an excellent voice, my dear!” she told Trixie.
    Trixie turned bright crimson.
    “Sister is a speech and drama teacher,” the stout woman said.
    “And most of my pupils are afraid to open their mouths,” the tall one chuckled.
    The two women couldn’t have been friendlier. Before Honey and Trixie realized what was happening, they had accompanied the girls into the gallery, where there were portraits of Shakespeare and the characters in his plays, paintings of scenes from his works, and costumes and jewelry worn by famous Shakespearean actors and actresses.
    The Misses Elizabeth and Mary Tweedie, as they introduced themselves, beamed delightedly as the girls exclaimed over the treasures. Natives of Stratford obviously believed that anything to do with the Bard belonged to them.
    “It was so nice meeting you,” Honey said warmly as they came out of the gallery.
    “Oh, yes!” Trixie blurted. “We were dying to meet some real English people and not just do the regular touristy things.”
    “Now I see why you Americans think we English are reserved,” teased Miss Elizabeth, her brown eyes twinkling. She was the speech teacher. “I don’t suppose you would care to have luncheon with us?”
    “Oh, do,” Miss Mary urged. She was the stout sister and very talkative. “We belong to the Hall’s Croft Club, you know. They do delicious luncheons. If you’re going to be in town for any length of time, you can join the club for just a few shillings. In any case, you’ll be wanting to