The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

persisted.
    “That, too,” Mart agreed.
    “Boy,” Bobby mourned, “that’s sad. I liked that radio. Di was going to let me hang it on the handlebar of my bike. If I ever get a bike.”
    “That’s nice, Bobby.” Mr. Belden winked solemnly, then ducked behind his newspaper to hide a grin.
    “No,” Bobby declared. “It isn’t nice at all. The radio is just plain took. Now I can’t borrow it.”
    Trixie thought of all the hours of fun she had shared in that family room at the Lynch mansion. “It is sad, Bobby. I’m sorry the radio was ‘just plain took.’ ” Only Trixie and Hallie sat with Mr. Belden while he drank his second cup of coffee. They were faced by the printed wall of his propped-up newspaper. All they could see were the want ads.
    “Need your gutters cleaned?” Hallie droned. “Interested in self-hypnosis? Swimming lessons? Wrecking service?”
    Trixie broke in. “Listen to this! ‘Lost: Wheelchair. Vicinity Lytell Store on Glen Road. Reward. Call Teed Moving Service.’ ”
    Hallie wrinkled her straight nose. “So that’s what happened. A wheelchair rolled out of a truck.”
    Trixie shrugged and reached for more toast. “There goes our mystery.” She snapped her fingers. “Gleeps! We can try for the reward money anyway. With the wedding coming up, the Bob-Whites can use extra money. When Moms lets me out of the kitchen, I’ll look for the wheel marks. That wheelchair didn’t just land beside the road like a helicopter.”
    Hallie grinned. "Count me in.” Trixie agreed unwillingly.
    She felt more cheerful when Hallie offered to dust. It was a chore Trixie hated.
    Wearing a pair of Trixie’s shorts and a knit shirt, Hallie padded barefoot to the end of the lane with Trixie. The Belden mailbox stood in a clump of daisies. “No marks,” Trixie muttered.
    “What did you expect?” Hallie retorted. “The mail truck’s stopped here. Brian’s jalopy’s gone up the lane. Uncle Peter’s come and gone. I don’t see any marks farther up the road, either. Could Bobby have seen somebody else’s mailbox?”
    Trixie looked toward the Belden house in the valley. She studied its height and the placement of her window. Out of sight beyond a strip of forestland lay the Wheeler estate with its many buildings. In that short distance to Manor House, several mailboxes served people, like Mr. Maypenny and Tom and Celia Delanoy, who lived off the county road. Hidden on a hilltop in the distance stood Di Lynch’s large stone home. It was visible only in winter when the trees were bare. Their mile-long private road twisted downhill to Glen Road, where their mailbox stood at the intersection. The Frayne mansion had burned, so that property had no use for a box. Mr. Lytell’s store couldn’t be seen.
    Trixie sighed. “No, I can’t see mailboxes from my window. Not even our own.”
    “Well, neither could Bobby without binoculars.” To cover a feeling of pique that Hallie had made a point, Trixie opened the mailbox. She drew out five heavy white envelopes, each addressed in Miss Trask’s perfect script.
    “Our invitations!” Trixie’s voice softened with the wonder of holding proof in her hand that Juliana and Hans were to be married, and that Trixie Belden was to be maid of honor. “Look. Here’s a separate invitation for Bobby. They knew he’d like one for a souvenir.” Waving her fan of white envelopes, she ran up the lane shouting, “Mail! It’s important!”
    In the backyard, Trixie dealt out the mail, then ran into the house to call Honey.
    In the window seat at the end of the upstairs hall^ Trixie dialed the familiar number. While the call went through, she propped the receiver on her shoulder and opened the outer envelope. She wiped her warm fingers on her shorts before pulling the engraved invitation from the second envelope. There were the magic words:

    Suddenly Trixie became aware of Honey saying over and over again, “Hello? Hello?”
    “Hello, Honey!” Trixie squealed. “I’m reading it, Honey. I’m reading my invitation, and it’s beautiful! Is Juliana up yet?”
    “Oh, my goodness, yes! She and Hans are down by the sundial looking at travel folios. Anyway, that’s what they’re doing when they’re not just holding hands and looking at each other.” Honey laughed softly. “They think they’re out of sight of the whole world, but they’re not. I can look right down into that part of the garden, where Miss Trask had all the old-fashioned flowers planted