The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

included everyone at the table, Hans took the phone from Celia. He walked across the grass to sit on the edge of the birdbath. Trixie was facing him. She saw him straighten suddenly and turn his back to the table. His whole pose was that of a person being presented with a problem. Trixie glanced at Juliana but saw that she had not noticed.
    Juliana was asking permission to be driven to Sleepyside by Tom, the chauffeur. Her own blue Volkswagen was being repaired as a result of the wreck that had caused her loss of memory for a time. “I’ll drive you, Juliana,” Jim offered.
    Juliana giggled. “I’m afraid you’ll be bored with my window-shopping, Jim.” She smiled brightly as Hans returned to the table. “Tell Jim, Hans, what a slowpoke I am when I shop.”
    “She’s the worst,” Hans agreed indulgently, “but I have good arches.” Reseated, he picked up his napkin and asked, “By the way, Juliana, was your family on friendly terms with some people named Ryks?”
    “I—I’m sure I don’t know,” Juliana answered. “I was very young when the accident took both my parents. When the Schimmels took me in, their friends
    became my friends. Among them I can’t recall the name Ryks. Is it important?”
    “It seemed important to the Miss Ryks who telephoned,” Hans told her. He shook his blond head as if to clear away cobwebs. “Do you know, now that I try to reconstruct her conversation, I am not clear as to whether she considers herself a friend of my family or yours?”
    “Does it matter?” Juliana asked gaily. “In a few days, there won’t be any difference. Your family will be my family.”
    Miss Trask asked, “May I help, Hans?”
    “Thank you, Miss Trask,” Hans said. “This person who called from the Glen Road Inn has asked if it is possible for her to be included on the guest list for our wedding.”
    Honey’s mother lifted both hands and let them drop as if she emptied them of all responsibility, as, indeed, she did on every possible occasion. “My dear Miss Trask, whatever you decide is quite all right.” Miss Trask leaned across the table to speak with Jim. “Since you two are related, it’s conceivable that your two families might have had friends in common. Do you recall the name Ryks?”
    “No,” Jim said soberly. “I’m sharing the boat with Juliana. I have no strong link with the past. My mother remarried after my father’s death. You all know how that turned out. Being a friend of my stepfather is a poor recommendation.”
    “Well, let me call the inn and see what I can find out,” Miss Trask said. “Is that agreeable with you, Hans? Juliana?” Both agreed.
    As a signal that their young guests were free to do as they chose, Honey’s parents left the table to walk through the well-kept grounds.
    Before any more of the group left, Trixie reminded everyone that they were invited to Crabapple Farm for dinner that evening. The get-together had been planned a week earlier.
    “We’ll be there. Now let’s drop off your bikes at Crabapple Farm and then all go to Sleepyside with Juliana,” Honey said eagerly.
    Dan asked to be excused to return to work. As he left the terrace, he looked back. Trixie knew he would rather have remained with his friends.

    There were several nice shops in Sleepyside, small village though it was. Customers included the wealthy owners of the estates lining the Hudson. Trixie, Honey, Hallie, and Di trooped from counter to counter, helping Juliana to make choices. Jim and Hans carried packages. Several times Trixie saw them in sober conversation. When curiosity got the better of her, she asked Jim if he’d like a break.
    “Sure. Hans, let’s take the packages to the car.”
    Juliana objected prettily. “I’m not quite finished here, Hans.”
    “Jim, you and Trixie go ahead,” Honey urged. “We’ll meet you later.”
    After they had locked the packages in the station wagon in the village parking lot, Trixie and Jim walked the short distance to Wimpy s. They waved at the counterboy and hurried to their favorite booth. “Root beer—a tall one, please,” Trixie ordered.
    “Make it two,” Jim added.
    When their frosted mugs came, Trixie waited impatiently for Jim to tell her what was on his mind. Like Bobby, Jim couldn’t be hurried. She filled him in on the story of the wheelchair, but he listened with only part of his attention. He cut in to say, “That phone call worries Hans.”
    “I don’t see why it should bother him,”