The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

contents of the envelope.
    “Hmmm,” Brian mused, looking at the pictures. “I thought you said these were photographs, Trixie. They’re not. These are pictures from a book. Look—there’s printing on the back of them.”
    “Or from a catalog!” Trixie exclaimed. “Let me see those again.” Brian handed her the pictures. “There are six of them. Honey, do you know how many costumes were delivered?”
    “Six, I think. Let me see, there was the velvet gown, the cape, and another costume for Romeo, and three more dresses. Yes, six in all.“
    “Now, look at these pictures again, Honey,” Trixie directed. “Are these the same six costumes? I wish I had paid more attention to them! All I remember is the velvet gown, and here’s the picture of that.”
    “I think they’re the same,” Honey said, “but I’m not positive.”
    “You know, Trixie, even if these are the same costumes,” Mart said, “it could be that Miss Darcy’s friend sent the pictures earlier, just to show her what the costumes looked like.”
    “That’s true,” Brian put in, “and she may have a safe-deposit box for any number of reasons—her passport and birth certificate, just to name two. Lots of people have one for documents.
    “What we’re trying to say, Trixie, is that your ‘mystery’ can be easily explained. Your worst problem, if you insist upon having one, is Jane Morgan, and she’s easy enough to handle, I should think.”
    “I suppose you’re both right,” Trixie sighed, “but....”
    “But what?” Brian laughed.
    “It’s just that I have a feeling, that’s all.”
    Mart groaned, and Brian sighed and rolled his eyes ceilingward.
    “You know, her feelings have been right before,” Honey said, in Trixie’s defense.
    “I know,” Brian admitted, “but don’t you think that Miss Darcy has enough on her mind without Trixie bothering her with some crazy notion about costumes?”
    “Okay, okay! Time out. I get the message.” Trixie grinned good-naturedly. “I’d better get downstairs and start wooing Bobby with stories, or he’ll never go to bed. He’s so excited about Reddy coming home tomorrow.”
    “I’ll read to him for a while,” Honey offered, following Trixie down the stairs. Brian and Mart went to their rooms to finish their homework.
    “You weren’t listening to anything they said, were you?” Honey whispered.
    “Not a word!” Trixie laughed. “In fact, my hunches are getting hunchier—if that’s a word. I’ve got to get another look at those costumes— and that catalog!”

Curious Costumes and Catalogs ● 7

    THE NEXT MORNING, Trixie and Honey awoke to the smell of frying bacon. “I don’t think there’s a more wonderful aroma in the world,” Trixie sighed, rolling over and sitting up. “It’s that kind of warm, get-up-and-get-going smell.“
    “And that’s exactly what we’ve got to do—get up and get going.” Honey yawned and stretched.
    The two girls dressed quickly and hurried down to the breakfast table.
    “What a feast!” Mart exclaimed, eyeing the big stack of golden brown pancakes and the platter of crisp bacon. “This is usually Sunday-morning-breakfast fare. I think Honey should stay over more often, if it means weekday breakfasts like this.” He sat down and quickly filled his plate.
    “I thought I’d make something special this morning,” Mrs. Belden said. “Since you’re driving to school today, there’s no rush to make the bus, and besides, we have a guest.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Belden,” Honey said.
    “And such a polite guest, at that,” Helen Belden added, clearing her throat.
    “Oops! Yeah, Moms, thank you,” Trixie said. Brian and Mart added their thanks, too.
    Brian finished eating first, so he went to pick up Jim and Di. He had called them the night before and offered them a ride to school.
    “I’ll swing by and pick all of you up in about fifteen minutes, so no third helpings this morning, Mart,” Brian warned.
    “I’m so ’cited about Reddy coming home, I can hardly eat any potcakes,” Bobby said.
    “Potcakes?” Honey chuckled. “You mean pancakes.”
    “Oh, yeah,” Bobby giggled.
    Everyone had finished breakfast and was ready to go when Brian sounded the horn of the Bob-White station wagon.
    “I don’t know if we’ll be able to get everyone in the car for the ride home, with Reddy in here,” Brian said as they started off down Glen Road. “Unless, of course, someone’s willing to sit way in the