The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

swung around and found herself looking into the kindly face of Dr. Ferris. “How’s Mrs. Franklin?” she asked, smiling at him.
    “Doing well,” he answered. “You’ve heard, of course, that we’ve got to keep her here at the hospital for several more days. But by the time we’re finished with her, she’ll be as good as new— you’ll see. Now, about that daughter of hers: Brian tells me you’ve invited her to stay at Crabapple Farm. Then see that you fatten her up. That child is much too skinny—not at all like the bouncing Beldens, eh?” He chuckled at his own mild joke as Trixie reddened. Then he glanced at Honey and Di, who had gathered close to hear his news. “Of course, young Fay would do just as well if she stayed with the lovable Lynches or the wonderful Wheelers.”
    Obediently, the girls laughed.
    “We’re glad that Mrs. Franklin is going to be okay,” Honey told him. “Fay was very worried about her.”
    Dr. Ferris looked down at her. “Those two worry about each other too much,” he said. “I think, too, that Mrs. Franklin is anxious to get back to her job. She seems to think she’s going to lose it if she takes time off. I asked her what was more important—her health or her work. And bless me if she didn’t have to stop and think about it. Why anyone would want to stay at Lisgard House is more than I can understand. Ah, well, it takes all kinds to make a world.”
    “I think the Franklins need the money,” Di put in. “Mr. Gregory pays a good salary.”
    Dr. Ferris nodded his head. “So that explains it. I wondered, y’know. The last time I was there, I thought the place looked like a morgue—or a museum.”
    Trixie’s mind snapped suddenly to attention. “The last time you were there? Was that when old Mr. Lisgard died?”
    Dr. Ferris nodded. “Yes, it was. Poor old fellow. I expect you heard. I got there too late. Couldn’t do a thing for him. Of course, I’d warned him it was going to happen.”
    “Warned him that what was going to happen?” Trixie asked, thinking of the story Regan had told her. “Did he really see the witch and then have a heart attack and die of shock?”
    Dr. Ferris stared. “Now, where did you hear a story like that?” he asked sharply. “That’s the most ridiculous nonsense I’ve ever heard.”
    “You mean it isn’t true?” Trixie said slowly.
    “Of course it isn’t true! Not a word of it! If you must know, young lady, old Mr. Lisgard had suffered from high blood pressure for years. I warned him that he mustn’t have any excitement at all, but he didn’t listen. One night he lost his temper with his housekeeper. She upped and stormed out of there, never to return. Caleb promptly had a stroke and died. Take my word for it!”
    “Then he didn’t have a heart attack?” Trixie asked.
    Dr. Ferris stared at her sternly. “He died of a stroke brought on by a bowl of mashed potatoes, if you must know. I made it my business to find out all the strange details afterward.”
    “He died of a bowl of what?” Honey gasped. “Mashed potatoes,” Dr. Ferris repeated. “He’d ordered ’em baked, you see. His housekeeper forgot and mashed ’em, instead. He lost his temper over it, and there you are! You can tell everyone I said so, too. Died of a witch’s ghost—or the sight of one? I never heard of such a thing!”
    Trixie was tempted to tell him that she’d never before heard of anyone dying of a bowl of mashed potatoes, either, but thought better of it.
    Dr. Ferris turned to leave. “How’s that young nephew-in-law of Caleb’s getting on?” he asked. “I expect he’s tidied up the place quite a bit now, with Zeke’s help. Repainted it, I have no doubt, and made it look a lot more cheerful. Apart from that antique furniture of his, old Caleb had no taste when it came to decorating his house.”
    “No,” Honey told him, “Mr. Gregory hasn’t repainted anything—at least, it doesn’t look like it. Trixie and I were there last night—”
    Dr. Ferris shook his head. “Ah, well, maybe the young man’s a chip off the Lisgard block—though I don’t quite see how that could be, considering young Lewis Gregory’s only an in-law. I must say, I felt very sorry for that young man when he took over that big old run-down house. People around here tell me he was raised in the city, so I daresay he’d rather be back there than stuck way out here in Sleepyside.”
    “I can’t see how anyone can prefer living anywhere else