The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

spunky she was.
    “Perhaps Matthew and I could pay a little call on your parents,” Mrs. Wheeler suggested. “We could explain how much we need the, er, the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency, to trace the origin of the necklace.” Trixie could have sworn she saw a twinkle in Mrs. Wheeler’s eyes. “And it would mean a great deal to me to find out more about my ancestors, too.”
    “You mean like a job? For the agency?” Honey-cried. “Oh, Trixie, wouldn’t that be fabulous? A real assignment!”
    “Your others have certainly been unreal,” Mart commented.
    Trixie was speechless. The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency was so far just a dream, for when she and Honey grew up. Of course, they had solved quite a few mysteries already, with the help of all the Bob-Whites, but those had been mostly accidental....
    “I suppose this would be an all-expenses-paid assignment?” Jim drawled, still leaning against the doorjamb.
    “Expenses!” Trixie gasped. “Oh, my sainted aunt!”
    “That’s my sainted aunt,” Honey put in.
    “All expenses would be paid,” Mrs. Wheeler assured them. “Keep a record of them.”
    “Pinch me,” Trixie said dreamily. “Nope—on second thought, don’t pinch me. I might wake up.”
    “What’s the name of the family you want us to trace?” Mart asked, curious. “Is it Wheeler?”
    “No, it’s my family,” Mrs. Wheeler said. “My maiden name is Hart. H-a-r-t. I believe there’s a connection with the Shakespeares, way back.”
    “You’re kidding!” exclaimed Mart.
    “You like Shakespeare?” Mrs. Wheeler asked. “I’m glad. I expect you’ll be staying in Stratford-on-Avon, his birthplace, for at least a few days. We’ll arrange for you to see one or two of his plays at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.” She stood up. “I’m going to go hunt up Matthew right now.”
    Mrs. Wheeler hurried out of the room, and Trixie let out a sigh. “Oh, Honey, your mom is absolutely super,” she said. “Do you really think they can talk my parents into it?”
    “I have a hunch they can,” Mart said confidently. “And I can see it all now in The Sleepyside Sun: ‘The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency took off on a private jet today for the British Isles, where they will function as genealogical shamuses in an attempt to discover the origin of a splendiferous bauble. Also under investigation will be the extraction of Miss Madeleine Wheeler’s materfamilial roots.’ ”
    “Oh, Mart, you make it sound like we’re going to the dentist,” said Honey, giggling.
    Trixie shivered with excitement. To England! Would she really get to go? Well , even if I don't, she thought stubbornly, the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency is still going to solve the mystery of Honey's inheritance... somehow.

Yankee, Go Home ● 2

    IT WAS THE BOB-WHITES’ first day in London, and already they were hopelessly lost.
    After getting the young people settled in a small bed-and-breakfast hotel on the previous night, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had gone on to Paris. Trixie felt she’d be eternally grateful to them for talking her parents into allowing her and Mart to accompany Honey and Jim. Once they were convinced that Trixie and Mart would be a genuine help on the trip, Mr. and Mrs. Belden had revised their verdict and decided that it would be wonderfully educational. Trixie still had to pinch herself from time to time to make sure she really was on the opposite side of the Atlantic, and not just in some unusually pleasant dream!
    Miss Trask was spending the first day doing preliminary research on the Hart family at the English Birth Registry, which meant that the Bob-Whites were beginning their sight-seeing adventures on their own.
    By the middle of the morning, they had covered a lot of territory—mostly underground territory. The tube, as the Londoners called their honeycomb of subways, was jammed with English commuters and foreign sightseers. Trains roared in all directions through the dimly lighted tunnels, and it seemed that nobody could tell the Americans which train they should take.
    “Everything is so much fun in London, even being lost,” said Trixie. “But, gleeps, I don’t think the English people like us very much.”
    “What makes you say that?” Honey demanded. “Didn’t you hear what that man called us?” Trixie asked. “The one who pushed us onto this train when we didn’t know if it was the right one or not?”
    “Bloody tourists,” recalled Mart.
    “I’m sure that