The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

the Beldens had a guest room downstairs, Trixie hadn’t even thought of asking either Fay or Honey to sleep in it when they all reached Crabapple Farm the previous night. After their terrible experiences at Lisgard House, it was as if the three of them had an unspoken agreement to stay together and offer comfort to each other.
    Trixie had wondered if Fay would want to stay up and talk for a while. But she hadn’t. Her face, still white and drawn, had a strange, stricken look to it, almost as if she’d had more than she could bear for one day.
    And so, carefully avoiding the subject that was foremost in their minds, Trixie and Honey had insisted that she should rest. Although Fay had told them that she knew she would not be able to close her eyes for the rest of the night, it hadn’t been five minutes before she was fast asleep. Soon Trixie and Honey were, too.
    In the cold light of that Saturday morning, however, the events of the previous night seemed somehow less terrifying. Now that Trixie had had a chance to think about them, she was sure there was some sensible, believable explanation for what had happened.
    “You know what I think?” she said suddenly. “I think someone’s trying to scare Fay into having a nervous breakdown.”
    Brian shifted uneasily in his chair. “Now, come on,” he said. “You’ve got no reason to believe anything like that. What on earth gave you such an idea?”
    “Figure it out for yourselves,” Trixie told her brothers. “When I got to the house last night, I thought I saw someone outside. That was the first thing.”
    Brian nodded. “That was Zeke Collins.”
    “Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn’t,” Trixie replied. “But then there was the other stuff. I heard someone telling me to beware. And then— and then—”
    “You thought you saw a ghost,” Mart said. Trixie nodded. “I thought I did, really. I—I know it sounds silly.”
    “Wow! What an understatement!” Mart leaned across the table toward her. “Did it occur to you that it could have been either Fay or Honey perpetrating a peculiar practical joke?”
    Trixie flushed. “That’s really silly,” she said with conviction. “They were asleep. Anyway, neither of them would do such a thing.”
    Brian frowned. “I think you’re right, Trix,” he said, “at least as far as Honey is concerned. But what about Fay?”
    “What about her?” Trixie demanded. She stared at him, puzzled.
    Her eldest brother played idly with his fork and, with the handle of it, drew lines on the tablecloth. “None of us know Fay that well,” he said slowly. “I was wondering whether she might have been behind all the strange things you say you saw and heard last night.”
    Trixie felt bewildered. “But why?”
    Brian shrugged. “Beats me. The whole thing sounds funny, that’s all. You heard people arriving at the house, you said. They were angry and shouting. Then you say they broke down the front door with axes. After that there was the business with the smoke. But when you came to look afterward, everything was normal. The door hadn't been broken into, there wasn't a fire—”
    “Fay could have cooked up the whole thing,” Mart said. “Maybe she needed you there as witnesses. Maybe she was trying to turn your tumultuous tresses to silver.”
    Before Trixie could come up with a retort, Brian put in, “He means she was trying to turn your hair gray.”
    “Or maybe,” Mart said thoughtfully, “she knew that you are constantly panting after problematical predicaments—mysteries to you, Trix—and she decided to provide you with one.”
    Trixie pushed back her chair and stood up. “That’s stupid,” she snapped, her blue eyes blazing. “I thought you two would be able to help. I should have known better. Fay’s in trouble, real trouble.”
    Brian looked up at her and asked, “What did Dad say about all this?”
    Trixie had the grace to blush. “I—uh—didn’t tell him—that is, not everything.”
    “Why not?” Mart demanded.
    Trixie looked down at her feet. “I didn’t want to worry him and Moms,” she said, “so I just told both of them that Fay’s mother had an accident, and that we’d been planning to spend the night at Lisgard House, but then we’d decided to come back here, instead.”
    “Did you tell them what time you arrived home?” Brian asked. He frowned up at her. “It wasn’t the smartest idea in the world to walk home alone at two o’clock in the morning, you