The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

An Unexpected Visitor ● 1

    TRIXIE BELDEN GROANED and clutched her short, sandy curls with both hands. “Oh, woe!” she exclaimed. “Someone in Washington ought to pass a law about this, and if I had my way, they would.” Her best friend, Honey Wheeler, looked up from her English textbook and grinned. “What law do you want passed now?” she asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. Let’s see—last week you wanted to pass a law ending all chores for teen-agers forever, so it can’t be that one again. A week ago, you wanted to pass a law about skirts. No one should ever have to wear one, you said, particularly Trixie Belden.”
    Trixie sighed. “I still like those ideas,” she replied stubbornly, staring down with troubled blue eyes at her math book, which lay open on the kitchen table in front of her. “But this law would be about weekend homework.”
    “You mean you want more of it?” Honey asked, pretending to misunderstand.
    Trixie made a face at her friend. “You know I didn’t mean that! What I meant was that there shouldn’t be any —especially on the weekend before Thanksgiving. Jeepers! It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”
    Honey giggled and leaned back in her chair. “Let’s face it, Tjix. There really isn’t any weekend that you and I like doing homework. Anyway, we’ve almost finished—at least, I have. I’ve only got one more paragraph to write for my English composition. How are you coming with your math?”
    Trixie groaned again. “Terribly!” she exclaimed. “It’s true I’ve got only two more problems to do, but the trouble is, I can’t do either of them.”
    Reddy, the Beldens’ mischievous Irish setter, lay sleeping on the braided rug at Trixie’s feet. Trixie nudged him gently with the toe of her sneaker.
    “It’s all right for you,” she told him gloomily. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”
    Reddy didn’t even bother to open his eyes. He thumped his tail once, just to let her know he’d heard, and immediately went back to sleep.
    Impatient, Trixie sighed and ran one hand through her unruly curls. “What’s taking Brian and Mart so long, anyway?” she asked Honey, who merely smiled in sympathy and bent again to her work.
    For a while, there was silence in the warm, fragrant kitchen of the old farmhouse. As always, it looked cozy in the lamplight. Its walls were hung with gleaming copper utensils. Treasured china was proudly displayed on plate racks and cup hooks.
    Trixie gazed toward the kitchen door, hoping to see her two older brothers. Half an hour before, they had promised to be “back in a flash” from putting the youngest Belden, six-year-old Bobby, to bed. Judging from the muffled sounds of hilarity coming from upstairs, however, Trixie guessed that all three of her brothers had forgotten about her.
    Normally it would havq been Trixie’s job to put Bobby to bed whenever her parents were out for an evening, visiting friends. This was not one of the chores Trixie disliked. Looking after Bobby was usually a pleasure—unless she also had math homework to do.
    On this Friday evening in November, Trixie knew that Brian and Mart were trying to help her. All the same, she couldn’t help wishing that their help also included explaining all the puzzling problems she’d had to wrestle with all evening.
    Honey smiled at a particularly loud thump that came from upstairs. “It sounds as if they’re having fun,” she remarked. “Maybe they’re having a pillow fight.” Her hazel eyes twinkled.
    Trixie frowned. “If so, Bobby will be so excited, he’ll never get to sleep. Ooh, that Mart! He ought to know better. As for Brian, I’m surprised he didn’t put a stop to it long ago.”
    Honey couldn’t help agreeing. She knew, as did everyone else, that seventeen-year-old Brian was the most level-headed and even-tempered of the Belden children.
    Fifteen-year-old Mart, on the other hand, loved to entertain anyone who would listen to him. He used big words to confound his audiences—and, in particular, to tease Trixie. Just eleven months older than his sister, Mart was Trixie’s “almost-twin.”
    Honey laid down her pencil at last. “There!” she said with satisfaction. “I’m all through for the evening. Would you like me to go up and get Bobby into bed?”
    “That would be terrific,” Trixie said gratefully. “And while you’re at it, tell Brian and Mart that I need their help in the kitchen.”
    “I’ll do my best,” her friend