The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

that Honey would ever suggest anything so daring. “Now you’re talking,” Trixie had told her. “I was getting worried about your lack of enthusiasm for this mystery.”
    Quickly running a brush through her sandy curls, Trixie smiled at her reflection as she recalled Honey’s surprising suggestion. Now, as if by magic, they had the perfect chance. If only —she thought —if only we can find out exactly where Peter Ashbury works.
    Trixie was so excited at the prospect of a day’s sleuthing that she bounded down the stairs and burst into the kitchen, only to be reminded by her mother that other members of the family were still asleep.
    “Gleeps!” Trixie cried, putting her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Moms. I got so carried away, I forgot,” she added in a whisper.
    “Well, you’d better have a quick, quiet bowl of cereal—nothing that snaps, gargles, or roars, please. They’ll be here any minute.”
    “I’m too excited to eat,” Trixie said.
    “My goodness,” Mrs. Belden laughed, “you’re acting as if you’d never been to the city before.“
    “It’s like a little surprise vacation, that’s all,” Trixie said, pulling on her coat. “I’ll walk to the end of the driveway to meet them.” She gave her mother a good-bye kiss. “Thanks for letting me off the hook with chores, Moms.”
    “Have a good time.” Helen Belden smiled and closed the door behind her daughter. She watched from the kitchen window as Trixie jogged to the end of the driveway.
    Miss Trask soon pulled up in the Wheelers’ sedan and stopped alongside the entrance to the Beldens’ drive. Trixie had been waiting eagerly, hopping on one foot and then the other, trying to keep warm in the frosty morning air. “Hi,” she said, climbing into the backseat. “Sorry we woke you and your mother up so early this morning, Trixie,” Honey said, giving her friend a knowing, sidelong glance, “but I thought it would be fun to keep Miss Trask company on the train ride.”
    “Oh,” Trixie said, remembering the real reason for the trip. She turned to Miss Trask. “I was sorry to hear that your sister is sick. How is she?”
    “It’s just a stomach flu, nothing serious,” Miss Trask replied. “But she needs to have a prescription filled and some laundry done. It’s a little harder for her to manage with the wheelchair when she’s ill, so I thought I would offer to come in for a few hours.” Miss Trask’s sister had been an invalid for some time, but she was now able to live independently.
    “Do you want us to help, too?” Honey asked. Trixie crossed her fingers and hoped that Miss Trask would say no, even though she knew that Honey had been right to offer to help.
    “Goodness, no,” Miss Trask answered. “I thought I’d drop you two off at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s only a few blocks from my sister’s apartment, and there are quite a few interesting exhibits there now.”
    “Okay,” Honey and Trixie agreed in unison.
    They arrived at the Sleepyside station just in time to catch the eight-thirty train.
    Miss Trask sighed with relief as they took their seats in the coach. “I’m glad we made this train. The next one doesn’t leave for another hour. Trains don’t run as frequently on the weekends as they do during the week, when all the commuters are going to work.” Di’s father was one of those commuters who made the hour-long train trip to and from New York City every day.
    Honey and Trixie settled into a double seat across the aisle from Miss Trask as the train moved slowly away from the station. Soon Miss Trask was absorbed in a magazine. The humming rhythm of the train masked the whispering excitement Honey and Trixie shared.
    “I can’t believe it!” Trixie giggled. “Perfect timing.”
    “I know,” Honey beamed. “When Miss Trask’s sister called this morning, I couldn’t help thinking, ‘How did Trixie arrange this? ”
    Trixie laughed, too, and then they settled back to watch out the window as the countryside slipped away and the skyline became crowded with buildings.
    “The train seems to sound different when we get close to the city,” Honey said, “as if it’s getting more energy or something. In Sleepyside, it sounds like chugga-chugga , chugga-chugga, but now it sounds like hustle-bustle , hustle-bustle.”
    Trixie turned to Honey and laughed. “Have you ever thought about getting a job as a train engineer? I never knew you could do such a good train imitation,