The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

“What do you see, Reddy?”
    “He hears something, that’s for sure,” Dan said. Even though Trixie’s fingers smoothed his velvet ears, Reddy didn’t relax. Something hidden by the shadows was bothering him.
    The talk was about the wedding. Always interested in clothes, Di asked eagerly, “What will you wear, Juliana?”
    “Just a summer dress,” Juliana answered. “I know Miss Trask has followed Mrs. Wheeler’s instructions about sending out invitations, but neither Hans nor I want formality. We’ll live in an apartment in Amsterdam, and our life will be very simple. I’ve been away so long that I’ve lost touch with old friends. Even in Amsterdam, we’d have had a plain civil ceremony.”
    “You must wear white,” Mrs. Belden said. “Would you like to wear my wedding dress?”
    “I’d love it, but I can’t let you alter it,” Juliana insisted. “You must save it for Trixie.”
    Reddy was so restless that Trixie found it hard to take part in the conversation. She noticed that Dan, too, stared into the dark each time Reddy made a sound. For some reason, Dan refused to give up his place beside Juliana, even when Bobby tried to squirm between them.
    Trixie heard Hans tell Mr. Belden, “No, sir. We won’t use Juliana’s inheritance right away. We’ll save the money to educate our children.” Trixie hoped that the life of the young Vorwalds would settle into a comfortable routine. Like our own, maybe, she thought.
    When Honey and Di married, it would be with pomp and ceremony. Family wealth demanded it.
    That’s not for me, Trixie thought. She would wear her mother s dress in a simple and lovely home ceremony, and that dress would probably remain in the family for generations.
    “Mrs. Vanderpoel!” Trixie cried, surprising herself as much as the group. Mrs. Belden peered expectantly into the dark, and Trixie giggled. “Sit still, Moms. She isn’t coming up the lane. I was thinking about wedding dresses, and I remembered Mrs. Vanderpoel’s attic. I’ll bet she’s got every wedding dress anybody in her family ever wore. I know Juliana wants to keep things simple, but Miss Trask has invited all those people, and ordered the wedding cake, and hired an organist.” Trixie spread her hands. “Miss Trask and Mrs. Wheeler are going right ahead planning a real wedding. I mean—”
    “Traditional,” Mart put in.
    Honey fluttered her hands. “You know how Mother loves tradition, Juliana. If there’s a way to find a wedding dress on such short notice, wouldn’t you wear it?”
    “Well....”
    “Mrs. Vanderpoel is about your height,” Honey coaxed.
    “If you say she’s the same size, 111 insist that Dad send you to have your eyes examined, Honey Wheeler,” Jim said.
    “Three Julianas would fit inside one of Mrs. Vanderpoel’s dresses,” Dan scoffed.
    “Don’t be so sure about that, Dan,” Honey said.
    “Mrs. Vanderpoel was young once.”
    “Judging from her bone structure,” doctor-to-be Brian said, “she may have been Juliana’s size when she married. What do you think, Moms?”
    “Let’s go find out!” Trixie jumped up, ready for action. Reddy hadn’t given up shadow watching. When Trixie stood, so did he, and every hair on the ridge of his spine bristled like a porcupine quill.
    The Bob-Whites, plus Juliana, Hallie, and Hans, ran to the station wagon parked in the deep shadow of an ancient oak. Just for an instant, Trixie felt crowded, as if too many people were present. Then she was distracted by the sudden movement of Reddy chasing the thump of running feet.
    “Don’t hurry me, Hans. It’s too dark to see where I’m going,” Juliana said breathlessly.
    “Who’s hurrying you?” Hans asked.
    “Aren't you?” Juliana asked. “I thought you took my hand, Hans.”
    “Only when you let me,” Hans teased.
    Jim fished a flashlight out of the glove compartment and explored the curve of the lane. Peter Belden called from the porch, “Everything all right out there?”
    Jim called back, “I think so, sir.”
    It wasn't a long drive to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s yellow brick house in the woods. Short and plump, she smiled a welcome when she opened her door. “Now, how did you know I baked windmill cookies today?” Mart planted a kiss on the gray bun of hah on top of her head. Mrs. Vanderpoel was his favorite neighbor. “We didn’t know. We hoped.”
    Trixie was quite at home in this house crowded with antique furniture. Mrs. Vanderpoel lived alone but took an