The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

this county, too, you know!”
    Trixie whirled fiercely on him. “You’re making us sound like a bunch of snobs, and we’re not! Honey Wheeler has a houseful of servants, but she peels potatoes better than I do, and so does Di Lynch!”
    “Even Bobby can do that,” Mart retorted. “Children, children!” Mrs. Belden waved her hands to fan away some of the steam from the heated encounter. Behind her the screen door slammed, and Bobby, the youngest Belden, came out of the house, pretending to yawn. Shrewdly his mother studied his performance. “Bobby,” she chided, “you didn’t take a nap. What have you been up to?”
    “Well... Bobby widened his blue eyes to include the whole group in an innocent stare. “There was this suitcase, and it wasn’t locked.”
    “Trixie,” Mrs. Belden ordered, “go see what’s happened to Hallie’s belongings.”
    “Nothing happened to ’em,” Bobby said. “They’re in the middle of my bed, and they smell funny.”
    “Something must have spilled,” Hallie declared. Trixie ran, but Hallie ran faster. She overtook Trixie on the stairs and was the first to reach the second-floor hall. Trixie jerked open her own bedroom door, but Hallie went to Bobby’s room.
    “You’re lost!” Trixie shouted, then stared at the unbleached muslin spread that covered her bed. It was as smooth as she had left it that morning. No suitcase, no spilled cologne.
    Bobby’s bedroom was across the hall, and Trixie ran to the door. Her mother was right. Bobby’s bedspread wasn’t even wrinkled, so he hadn’t napped. And, there was a suitcase!
    “Why’d you go to your room?” Hallie asked.
    “I—” Trixie paused. It was a little awkward, letting Hallie suspect that she’d expected to find the suitcase in her own room because she’d seen binoculars behind a curtain there.
    Hallie waved a long, slim hand at Bobby’s bed. The middle of it was heaped with a jumble of a boy’s camping clothes. Right on top of the heap was a pair of washable sneakers, at least size eleven. Both of Hallie’s narrow bare feet could be squeezed into one of those shoes. Bobby was right—those shoes smelled. “It isn’t my bag,” Hallie said.
    “I can see that.” Trixie walked toward the bed. “Whose is it?”
    “How would I know? It’s your house, and you’re the detective!”
    Trixie studied her cousin’s thin brown face suspiciously. Was this some kind of trick? If so, it wouldn’t be the first time Hallie had made trouble for her. In the past, Trixie had been the one to end up in the family doghouse because she lost her temper while Hallie remained calm. This time, Trixie decided firmly, I won’t bite. If Hallie’s playing a trick, it’s on her.
    Trixie snapped her fingers. “Well, where’s your suitcase? I’ll help you put your clothes away.”
    “I just told you,” Hallie said slowly and distinctly. “This isn’t my bag.”
    “You mean, you’ve already hung up your clothes, and—” While speaking, Trixie crossed the room and flung open Bobby’s closet door. Nothing that would belong to Hallie could be seen.
    Hallie crossed her arms. “Well?” she drawled. “Your clothes are in my closet!” Trixie dashed from Bobby’s room into her own room. Again she flung open the closet door, certain that Hallie was playing one of the tricks she’d played when they were children. She shouted, “There!”
    Again Trixie stared. Her own clothes, uncrowded and unmoved from their usual positions, hung from the long clothes bar. When Trixie turned her blond head, she saw that Hallie was leaning against the doorjamb, watching quietly.
    “Well, sweet cousin?” Hallie gibed.
    Furiously Trixie shouted, “I know there’s some kind of trick. There always is! Now, Hallie Belden, you’d just better tell me what’s going on!”
    “No, my dear daughter, you’d better tell me what’s going on.”
    “Dad!” Trixie gasped. “How long have you been standing there?”
    “Long enough to decide that you owe an apology to our guest,” Mr. Belden said firmly. “I thought two years of separation might have eased old strains, but I see I was wrong.” He put an arm around his tall young niece’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. “How are you, Hallie? It’s good to see you. Did you have a pleasant trip?”
    “I’m glad to see you, too, Uncle Peter.”
    Mr. Belden turned to Trixie. He wore a baffled expression. “Trixie—” he began hesitantly.
    “I know, Dad,” Trixie said.