The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

see Hall’s Croft. It was the home of Shakespeare’s daughter Susanna and her husband, Dr. Hall. It’s a delightful home, furnished with antique—”
    “You’ll turn these nice American girls into sightseers yet,” Miss Elizabeth interrupted, chuckling. “Why don’t we just start with luncheon? I’m sure they must be hungry.”
    At the mention of food, Trixie was immediately famished. Fortunately, Hall’s Croft was only two blocks away from the museum and gallery.
    Miss Elizabeth recommended the roast leg of lamb, with mint sauce and new peas, and the two girls were happy to follow her advice.
    “English food is wonderful,” Trixie said between mouthfuls, and Honey agreed. For dessert, they chose fresh raspberries, which started Trixie off on Crabapple Farm. The Tweedies seemed fascinated by everything she said.
    “And where are you staying while you’re in Stratford?” Miss Mary asked.
    “Funny you should ask,” Trixie said sheepishly. “Temporarily, we’re split up in two different bed-and-breakfast places. We were going to stay at the Shakespeare Hotel, but, er, we got thrown out.”
    “Oh, Trixie,” Honey protested. “Miss Trask said it wasn’t that at all. They just found out they didn’t have room.”
    Trixie told the two women the whole story, and by the time she finished, they were red in the face from laughing so hard.
    Miss Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I wonder,” she said, “if you would be interested in staying at a country place. A friend of ours is opening up his home to tourists. It’s not far out— less than a mile from the center of town. It’s hard to find rooms at the height of the season, but Andrew Hart has just renovated his home, and I believe it’s opening this week. It’s an awfully nice place.”
    “Did you say Hart?” Trixie’s spoon clattered to the floor, and Honey’s eyes were enormous. “H-a-r-t?”
    “Why, yes, dear,” Miss Elizabeth said. “They are calling it Hartfield House.”
    “Gleeps, Honey,” Trixie said. “We’re on the trail!”

A Hostile Host ● 9

    JUST WAIT till we tell them the news!” Trixie’s blue eyes danced with glee as she plunked herself down on the bench where she and Honey had arranged to meet Miss Trask and the boys.
    “The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency is on the job,” Honey crowed, plopping down beside her.
    “Right—while they’re off sight-seeing.” Trixie wrinkled her freckled nose.
    “I would like to see some of the sights,” Honey admitted. “It was fun in London, but I think I’m going to like it even better here. The Tweedies were so nice that I hated to say good-bye to them.”
    “We only have till Sunday,” Trixie reminded her. “Your mother is coming to pick us up Sunday morning, and it’s Tuesday already.”
    “I can’t believe it,” Honey said. “As somebody or other once said, time sure flies when you’re having fun!”
    “Well, it’s kind of slowing down right now,” Trixie said impatiently. “I’m dying to tell Miss Trask and the boys about Hartfield House. Where are they?” Trixie and Honey looked around the grassy park on the riverbank. They knew they had the right bench, in front of the theater.
    “I think I see them coming—way down the river,” Honey said. “There—see the tall one with red hair and—yes, there’s Mart, too. But where’s Miss Trask?”
    “Elementary, my dear Honey,” Trixie said sadly. “She’s with McDuff.”
    “I thought you liked him better now.” Honey looked troubled.
    “Well—maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. But do you want Miss Trask to go off with him forever and ever?”
    “No, that would be awful,” Honey said in a small voice.
    “Sorry we’re late,” Jim called. “You should have gone with us. We saw—”
    “Shakespeare’s bed!” Mart exploded.
    “Well, I bet it’s not as comfy as the beds we’re going to sleep in tonight,” Trixie said excitedly. “What would you say to the Hartfield House?”
    “Hartfield House?” Jim’s green eyes were puzzled. “Where’s that?”
    “The Hart field,” Honey stressed.
    “What gives?” asked Mart. “I didn’t think Valentine’s Day was for another couple of months.”
    Trixie and Honey looked at each other and grinned. “We’re talking,” said Trixie, “about the H-a-r-t- field House, recently opened for tourists by Andrew H-a-r-t. And if you’ll tell us where Miss Trask is, we’d better go make reservations for