The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

them to mix up healing medicines. He thinks she was a sort of unofficial doctor to the town and tried to help both sick people and sick animals get well again.”
    “Then why wasn’t she liked?” Fay asked.
    Trixie thought of her sensible banker father. If Peter Belden had been living in that long-ago time, she was sure that somehow he would have found a way to put a stop to the rumors and gossip that had ended in tragedy at Lisgard House.
    “One year,” Trixie said slowly, “everything was going wrong for the townspeople of Sleepy-side. Crops that had been planted wouldn’t grow. Cattle got sick and died. And then some children in town started getting sick, too—and several of them died, as well.”
    Fay drew in her breath sharply. “What sickness was it?”
    “Nobody knows for sure,” Trixie replied. “Dad thinks it could have been an outbreak of scarlet fever. Or maybe it was diphtheria or whooping cough. Brian told me that diseases like those were very serious in those days. People didn’t have the drugs we have today, of course.”
    “And so, when the children died, they blamed Sarah Sligo?” Fay asked.
    Trixie nodded. “Yes, they blamed Sarah. You know, she must have been an obstinate sort of person. She wouldn’t listen to the more level-headed townspeople, who tried to warn her that feelings were running high against her.”
    “She kept on wearing her funny-looking clothes,” Honey said. “And she kept on wandering around the marsh, collecting whatever it was she collected.”
    “So on Thanksgiving night,” Trixie continued, her voice low, “a group of angry people got together and made their way here, to her house.” Trixie stopped, listening. In her imagination, she could almost see the long, flickering torches illuminating the hands and angry faces of the people who carried them. She could almost hear the roar of the mob as they reached the front door of the Lisgard mansion.
    “They broke through the entrance,” Trixie said, “and they found Sarah waiting for them in one of the rooms—the room you showed us, I guess, Fay—” She hesitated.
    “Go on, Trix,” Honey whispered, “though I don’t like this next bit.”
    “Sarah Sligo tried to reason with them,” Trixie said, trying to make her voice sound matter-of-fact, “but the people were past reason. They accused her of everything they could think of, and when they had finished, they locked her up in that little room. They boarded up the window so she couldn’t get out. And then they set fire to the house.”
    There was silence.
    “And so Sarah Sligo died,” Fay said at last.
    “Yes.”
    “And the ghost?” Fay’s voice was low. “What about the ghost?”
    Trixie moved restlessly. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Fay,” she said hurriedly. “I expect it’s just one of those silly stories that get passed around when people have nothing better to do.”
    Honey clasped her hands around her bent knees and glanced across at their new friend. “You’ve never seen a ghost here, have you, Fay?” she asked.
    Fay didn’t seem to be listening. It was as if she were following some thought of her own. All at once, she lifted her head and gazed steadily at Trixie. “And now tell me about the curse,” she said softly.
    Trixie had been half prepared for this particular question and had already decided not to answer it. “I don’t know anything about a curse, Fay,” she lied blandly.
    Honey’s eyes opened wide. “Why, Trix! You do, too! You told me that before she died, Sarah Sligo swore she would get her revenge. She placed a curse on this house and on everyone who would ever live in it—” She stopped in horror, clapping a hand to her mouth.
    “It’s all right, Honey,” Fay said quietly. “I only needed someone to confirm what I already knew.”
    “What do you know, Fay?” Trixie asked.
    Fay bit her lip. “I know that it’s bad luck to live in this house,” she replied. “I know that the first Lisgard who ever lived here went walking in the marsh one day and was never seen again. I know there was something funny about the death of the last owner, old Caleb Lisgard—”
    Honey frowned. “I hadn’t heard that. What sort of something funny?”
    “I’m not sure,” Fay answered, “but everyone in town has been talking about it for weeks.”
    Trixie made a mental note to ask Brian later. Perhaps he’d heard something about it.
    “And what’s more,” Fay continued, “we—my mother and