The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

angry tones.
    I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop , Trixie thought. Common sense told her to leave quietly, but her curiosity about what was going on was stronger, and she stayed.
    “Where did you disappear to earlier?” she heard Miss Darcy ask. “I had to have some of the students help me carry the costumes back here, and then I spent the rest of the time looking for you. I thought we were supposed to have lunch together. And then, when I finally did find you, you were shouting at one of my students!”
    “I had some errands to do.”
    “Errands? What kind of errands do you have at noon in a high school?”
    “Listen, Eileen, if you don’t want me around here, just say so. Work is slow now, and with your father missing, I thought you might appreciate having me around more often. I don’t have to drive up from New York City every day, you know. And now that....”
    “Now that what?” Miss Darcy demanded quietly. To Trixie’s ears, the drama teacher’s tone sounded ominous.
    “Now that—now that you think I’m interfering with your work, I won’t bother coming!” he said with finality. Trixie heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the door, so she quickly tiptoed to the next classroom and slipped inside. She heard the office door open and then close with a resounding slam. She waited until she could no longer hear the heavy footsteps receding down the hall. Then she hurried to the auditorium for rehearsal.
    The rest of the class was already there, waiting for Miss Darcy. Trixie scanned the group, looking for Honey; not seeing her, she hurried to the wardrobe room backstage. “What’s wrong?” Honey asked immediately, seeing the look on Trixie’s face.
    “I’ll tell you after school,” Trixie whispered, catching Jane Morgan’s hostile, inquisitive glance.
    “I’ve got to get back to the auditorium. Miss Darcy will be here any minute,” Trixie said. “I just wanted to see if you had a second to talk, but I guess not,” Trixie added, rolling her eyes toward Jane.
    “I understand,” Honey said. “I’ve got some things to tell you, too!”
    Trixie ran back to the auditorium, arriving just as Miss Darcy walked in. The drama teacher’s eyes were red and puffy—she looked as if she had been crying.
    “I’m sorry I’m late, class,” she apologized. “We only have twenty-five minutes left in this period, but we’ll start where we left off before lunch. Diana, will you please begin? All stagehands, please assemble in the wings. Jeff Hoffer will show you how to work the equipment for the backdrops you’ve been painting.”
    After rehearsal, the rest of the afternoon seemed to drag on and on. Trixie couldn’t concentrate on Napoleon during history class or on The Grapes of Wrath —although she enjoyed the book—during English. She was so preoccupied with the day’s events that everything else seemed to pale next to them.
    Finally, the dismissal bell for the last class rang, and Trixie hurried to meet Honey and the rest of the Bob-Whites in front of school to wait for the school bus.
    “Honey,” she asked anxiously, “why don’t you come home with me tonight? I’m sure Moms will be glad to have you for dinner, and I’ve just got to talk to you—privately!”
    “Buzz, buzz, buzz—the sound only an apiculturist loves,” Mart laughed. “Now what are you two busy bees buzzing about?”
    “Afraid you’re missing out on something?” Trixie asked coyly.
    “No,” Mart began, “but you’ve been acting strangely all day, Trixie. I hope you’re not into one of your maybe-this-or-maybe-that wild-goose chases.”
    “Not at all.” Trixie laughed lightly and boarded the bus.
    They all chattered happily on the way home, and as they neared Crabapple Farm, Honey said that she would go home first and ask Miss Trask if she could spend the night.
    Mart, Brian, and Trixie were met at the door by Bobby. “Guess what, guess what?” the little boy demanded, jumping up and down excitedly. “Reddy’s coming home tomorrow!”
    “So I heard,” Trixie said, giving Bobby a hug and a kiss.
    “Oh, did you call Dr. Samet today?” her mother asked.
    “No, but Miss Darcy did, and she told me,” Trixie replied. Then she took out the envelope Miss Darcy had given her and handed it to her mother. “She also asked me to give you this check.”
    “I told her that wasn’t necessary,” Helen Belden said, opening the envelope. “Why, this isn’t a check, Trixie. This is a receipt for a