The Mystery off Glen Road

without burning it?” he 1 finished for Ben. “The answer is yes, they can. Can you?”
    Ben flushed. “Ah, I was only kidding,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean anything.”
    Mart said easily, “You’d be surprised to know I how well our siblings can cook.” He kicked Trixie under the table. “Hunter’s stew made with venison is their specialty.”
    Honey gulped and said, “Oh, Ben knows how to make a hunter’s stew. He learned how at camp. Didn’t you, Ben?”
    “Not really,” he replied, laughing. “I know what to put into the pot, but after that my mind becomes a blank.”
    Jim, who had been sullenly silent until then, suddenly growled, “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Trixie and Honey are better cooks than the one we have now,” he told Ben. “If you’d rather eat raw frogs, why don’t you scram?”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Di put in. “Must we all quarrel every time we get together? Ben didn’t mean to be critical, Jim. He was only joking.”
    It was Jim’s turn to look sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he said to Miss Trask. “I’m not a very good host.” Honey, in that very tactful way of hers, broke the icy silence. “Did you say ghost, Jim?” she inquired sweetly.
    Everyone laughed, and from then on things went smoothly.
    After the feast, the boys and girls trailed across the hall to the library, where Di and Ben immediately began to play country records. Honey slipped out, beckoning for Trixie to follow. She led the way into her father’s den and closed the door.
    “Well,” she whispered loudly, “what happened about Bobby and the compass? I’ve been dying of suspense. When you and Mart were so late arriving, I began to think that Bobby had drawn and quartered you.”
    “Not quite,” Trixie said, grinning. She brought Honey up to date on events and finished with, “Bobby’s mad at me, all right, but if Ben amuses him with that phony bird tomorrow, he’ll probably forget about me. The important thing is for you and Mart to try to find that cabin in the clearing.” Honey shook her head. “Things keep on getting more and more involved. Since Mart has given his compass to Bobby, he and I will surely get lost. But you’re the one I’m worried most about.”
    “Why?” Trixie asked. “I’ll be safe at home making potato salad and coleslaw.”
    “Because of Bobby,” Honey hissed. “Have you forgotten the motto Mart gave him months ago? ‘Revenge is sweet. Saccharine- sweet!’ ”

Thanksgiving ● 18

    IN SPITE OF storm warnings and Honey’s grim predictions, Thanksgiving was a wonderful day. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless, powder blue sky, and by noon the temperature had risen to a record-breaking seventy-two degrees.
    Mart and Honey did not get lost, but neither did they find the cabin in the clearing. Bobby spent the whole morning with Ben and Di and returned triumphantly at lunchtime with his strange bird.
    “I shot it my own self and with my bow an arrow,” he announced proudly, “and I ’trieved it my own self ’cause Patch wouldn’t.”
    “I don’t blame Patch,” said Mr. Belden, looking at the strange object that Ben had put together, using a moth-eaten stuffed squirrel and the head of an equally moth-eaten stuffed parrot, which he had obviously bought from a taxidermist in town. “This object is neither fur nor feathers, and no self-respecting spaniel would be caught dead with it.”
    “Nobody was caught dead with it,” Bobby yelled. “I caught him dead all by my own self.”
    “Very smart of you, too,” Mrs. Belden said soothingly. “Now you must eat your lunch, Bobby, and take a nice long nap. We’re having a party today, so you may stay up later this evening than usual. But you must have a nap.”
    “Won’t,” he stormed. “I’m a hunter. Hunters don’t take naps.”
    “Oh, yes, they do, Little Hiawatha,” said Mart, lifting Bobby onto the kitchen stool. “Let’s ‘peetend’ this bowl of vegetable soup is hunter’s stew, and you made it your own self. Out of that par-squirrel you shot, or should we call it a squirrel-par?”
    Bobby, all dimples now, ate hungrily and went off to bed willingly.
    Mart really is wonderful with kids, Trixie thought. I wish I had his patience.
    From then on, she was so busy she forgot all of her worries, and the first guest arrived while she was still dressing. It was so warm that Trixie hated to wear a sweater and skirt, but she knew it would grow