The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

Gregory had taken it down. I wondered why. Then I thought about that headstone. Miss Trask had said it was fake. But Hunter, who was supposed to be an expert, had agreed at once with Zeke’s story that a spirit who had died on its birthday couldn’t rest. I realized then that everything I’d suspected about Zeke could apply to Mr. Gregory, especially if Hunter was a crook. I think that at one time, Gregory intended to set fire to the house on Thanksgiving night—to fit the story. Then he must have decided he couldn’t wait, especially when we found out about the fake furniture. So he decided to act sooner. The picture of the blue clown was the only thing in the house he liked. And he sure didn’t want it to burn in the fire he intended to start that night , in front of witnesses.”
    Mart laughed. “And Trixie didn’t call the fire department; she had someone else do it for her. Neat!”
    Mrs. Franklin looked bewildered. “Then whom did she call? I don’t understand. I’ve been wondering who would believe her suspicions.”
    “I called the only person who might be vitally interested in saving Lisgard House,” Trixie said simply. “I called Zeke Collins. He believed me at once.”
    “Everything Trixie told me made sense,” Zeke explained, “and so I called the fire chief and told him to stand by. Him and me are old buddies, so luckily he did what I asked him to.”
    Fay sighed. “What’s going to happen now?”
    “The-Historical Society has seen Mr. Collins’s work,” Di said. “We’ve seen it, too. The paintings in the cottage are beautiful, and the Society is determined to save them.”
    “As for Lisgard House,” Honey said, “parts of the downstairs were badly burned in the fire. But a group of local businessmen, including my-dad, and Di’s dad, are going to repair it and buy it and turn it over to the Society. Zeke is going to be kept on as artist in residence. Isn’t that great?”
    “And Lewis Gregory?” Fay asked. “What about him? Is he going to jail?”
    Trixie nodded. “Sergeant Molinson is sure of it. The insurance company is going to sue him for fraud, you see. Mr. Hunter will go to jail with him.”
    “And now we have a surprise for you, Mrs. Franklin,” Honey said, laughing. “Di’s father has found you another job—on a lovely ranch, with lots of horses, Fay. What’s more, the insurance company is paying us a reward for saving Lisgard House.”
    “And the Bob-Whites want you to have the money for Fay’s education,” Trixie added happily.
    Mrs. Franklin’s eyes filled with tears. “We don’t know how to thank you all,” she said.
    “Especially Trixie,” Fay added.
    “Just have the best Thanksgiving ever,” Trixie said, feeling so thankful herself that this strange mystery was solved at last.
    As she watched the happy group around Mrs. Franklin’s bed, she suddenly remembered the strange figure who had twice warned her to be careful. Lewis Gregory had now flatly denied doing so. Who had it been? Had the real whispering witch been doing her best to protect what had once been her earthly home?
    Later, as the Bob-Whites were on their way home, Trixie saw once more the tall outlines of Lisgard House.
    She rolled down her car window and whispered to the still air around it, “You can rest now, Sarah.”
    And she had a sudden feeling that she'd been heard.