The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

I—haven’t had much luck lately, either. Last week I almost fell as I was coming downstairs. And now tonight”—her eyes filled with tears—“Mother’s in the hospital with a broken hip.”
    Both Trixie and Honey scrambled out of bed and hurried to Fay’s side.
    “You mustn’t listen to stupid stories about this house anymore,” Trixie said firmly.
    “And I shouldn’t have told you about the curse,” Honey added, looking as if she was close to tears herself. She put her arm around her new friend. “I’m sure that your mother merely had a nasty accident. It didn’t have anything to do with this house, or any stupid old curse, or any silly old witch.”
    “Honey’s right,” Trixie said. “There’re lots and lots of stories about spooky happenings in this part of the world. We’ve even had some spooky adventures, ourselves. For instance, did we ever tell you about the night we met a headless horseman in the woods?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Honey.
    “Oh, sure,” Honey said, realizing that Trixie wanted to distract Fay from her fears. “Then there was the time when we saw a ghostly galleon near an old pirate’s hideaway.”
    Fay looked from one to the other. “A headless horseman?” she echoed. “A ghostly galleon?” Honey nodded. “Would you like us to tell you about them?”
    Fay moved her legs to make room for the two friends on her bed. “I know what you’re doing,” she said, smiling through her tears, “and you’re very kind. So, yes, I’d like to hear about them.”
    “And when we’ve finished those,” Honey said with satisfaction, “remind me to tell you of the times we discovered an abandoned baby and searched for a phantom grasshopper!”
    It was very late when Honey finished the last exciting story. Fay was already yawning, and politely trying to hide the fact, while Trixie’s legs had long since gone to sleep. The rest of her was ready to join them.
    “Would you like me to tell you now about the time Trixie saw a shark in the Hudson River?” Honey asked, still anxious to make amends for upsetting Fay in the first place.
    She seemed greatly relieved when their new friend assured her that any more stories could wait until the following morning.
    Almost before Trixie and Fay had had time to blink, Honey had hurried to her own bed, had pulled the covers up to her chin, and was snuggling deep into her pillow.
    “I am a little tired,” she said apologetically and closed her eyes. Soon she was breathing deeply.
    “Is she asleep?” Fay asked softly.
    Trixie chuckled. “I’d say she’s good for at least eight hours.” She smoothed the blankets on the old armchair, then climbed between them once more.
    “Good night, Trixie, and thank you,” Fay called quietly as she reached for the light switch beside her bed. “Are you sure you’re comfortable? Would you like to change places with me?”
    “Don’t worry,” Trixie said, yawning. “It doesn’t matter to me where I sleep, and tonight I won’t need any rocking. I’m much too tired.”
    Fay sighed. “I wish I were. As it is, I’m sure I’m going to do nothing but wonder how Mother is doing at the hospital, and, what’s more....”
    Fay stopped talking.
    Trixie frowned and raised herself up onto one elbow. “And? Fay? And what?”
    There was no answer. All Trixie could hear was the rhythmic sound of deep, heavy breathing. And now it came not only from Honey’s bed, but from Fay’s as well.
    Trixie chuckled, tucked her legs under her, shifted her pillow, and settled herself down to sleep.
    Ten minutes later, she realized that the armchair was just as uncomfortable as Fay had guessed it would be. No matter which way she turned, a part of Trixie stuck over or under a part of the chair.
    Too, she had to admit to herself that she was worried. There was something about their new friend that made Trixie feel uneasy. It was as if Fay were hiding something—some knowledge that she didn’t yet want to share.
    It was certainly unfortunate that Fay had already learned of the curse of Lisgard House. It had seemed to upset her, Trixie thought.
    She sighed, turned over, and for the tenth time, rearranged the blankets that kept slipping to the floor.
    Again and again, Trixie’s thoughts returned to the strange figure she’d seen outside the house. She remembered the mysterious voice she’d heard when she stood alone in the kitchen. Who or what was it?
    All at once, Trixie remembered something else and sat bolt