The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

picture here and there.
    “I don’t believe this place,” Honey breathed, gazing about her. “Whoever decorated the hallway certainly had taste—all of it bad!”
    Trixie grinned in agreement and followed the sound of voices coming from an open doorway.
    She could hear Brian’s deep tones and Fay’s lighter ones—and one other voice, which, she correctly guessed, was that of Fay’s mother.
    Trixie spared only one glance for the gloomy kitchen, shuddered as she noticed the dark green paint, and hurried at once to her brother’s side.
    Brian was crouched beside a middle-aged woman who lay awkwardly on the floor. Her head was cradled by a pillow pulled hastily, Trixie assumed, from someone’s bed. Her features, which in normal circumstances would have resembled her daughter’s, were twisted with pain.
    “Now, stay still and try not to worry,” Brian was saying. “Both the doctor and the ambulance will be here soon.” He looked up. “You know, Trix, it might not be a bad idea if someone went and stood at that front gate to let them in.”
    “I’ll go,” Fay said at once. “I’ll have to direct them around to the back. They can’t get in the front way. Those gates are locked, and I don’t have the key.”
    “Then who’s got it?” Trixie asked.
    Fay hesitated. “Our odd-job man, Zeke. He— he’s not here right now....” She hurried from the room.
    Brian introduced both Trixie and Honey to Mrs. Franklin, who said, “I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. I can’t think how this could have happened—”
    It was strange, but Trixie thought she could detect a note of reserve in Mrs. Franklin’s voice. It was almost as if she knew something that she wasn’t about to tell anyone.
    “Try not to worry about it,” Brian repeated.
    Mrs. Franklin tried to smile. “I’m trying not to,” she said, “but I can’t help worrying about— about everything. It’s so silly that this had to happen, what with Mr. Gregory being away and everything. He’s not due back from his business trip till tomorrow afternoon, you see.” She looked anxiously at Brian. “I suppose I will have to go to the hospital.”
    Brian nodded his dark head. “Yes, and I think you’d better plan on being there for a few days, Mrs. Franklin,” he said.
    Suddenly Trixie realized one of the things that must be worrying the injured woman. She bent down and said gently, “Please don’t trouble yourself about what’s going to happen to Fay while you’re gone. She can stay with us at Crab-apple Farm for as long as she wants. Moms won’t mind at all. In fact, if she were here, she would be the first one to think of it.”
    “That’s right,” Brian confirmed quickly. “It was dumb of me not to have suggested it myself.”
    “She can come and stay with me, too,” Honey put in eagerly. “We have lots of room in our house, and anything would be better than having to stay here—” She broke off, suddenly realizing what she’d said.
    Mrs. Franklin laughed. “Please don’t look so guilty, dear,” she said. “I do know what you mean. But it’s not so bad working here, really. Sometimes, when the sun’s shining, the old house looks almost cheerful.”
    Trixie glanced at the gloomy kitchen and thought again of the long shadows in the passage outside. She wondered if the rest of the house was any better. If it was worse, she couldn’t imagine that anything about the old mansion could ever look cheerful.
    Mrs. Franklin seemed to sense Trixie’s thoughts. “We—Fay and I—haven’t been here long, as you know,” she explained. “We were living in New York City until recently, but I needed a job badly. I’m a widow, you see, and it isn’t easy—” She paused. “Then I came across Mr. Gregory’s ad for a housekeeper. I—I jumped at the chance at once. The wages are good—very good.”
    They'd have to be, Trixie thought, if Mr. Gregory wanted to keep any servant working here. I wonder how much Mrs. Franklin knows about the history of this place?
    “I think someone’s arriving at last!” Brian exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
    He was right. Trixie heard the back door slam, and soon brisk footsteps sounded in the passage.
    “All right,” a cheerful voice said. “Now, what’s going on here?” It was Dr. Ferris.
    After that, everything seemed to happen at once. It wasn’t any time at all before the ambulance, too, had arrived. The white-coated attendants looked, Trixie thought, a little nervous and