The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road

think that means you’re ’taking care of everything alone.’ Besides, there’s an old saying about charity beginning at home that you should pay attention to. You could devote some time to the worthwhile project of understanding Ben, instead of plunging into helping Nick Roberts, whom you hardly know.
    “I think you’re more worried about getting a lot of attention from organizing the bikeathon than you are about helping anybody. That’s what I think.” Honey’s voice sounded choked as she finished speaking.
    For the second time that day, Trixie heard the abrupt clicking sound through the receiver. She blinked back tears as she put the telephone down.
    Trixie’s hot temper was well-known by all the Bob-Whites. They knew that their friend spoke without thinking—and often without feeling as strongly about things as her words would seem to indicate. For that reason, they tended to respond by teasing Trixie out of her bad mood, rather than taking it seriously. An angry response like Honey’s was something that Trixie had rarely had to deal with, and it was all the harder for her to cope with it since it had come from Honey, who seldom became upset with anyone.
    Trixie knew that it wouldn’t take long for some member of her close-knit family to notice her tearful face and ask her what was wrong. She knew, too, that she didn’t want to explain it to her family, especially since her hint and confusion at Honey’s response was mixed with guilt for what she had said.
    Trixie swallowed hard and cleared her throat so that her voice would sound relatively steady when she called out, “I’m going to the clubhouse, Moms. I’ll be back before dinner.” She left the house quickly and started for the clubhouse at a fast trot that made thinking—and crying—impossible to do.
    Unexpectedly, the sight of the Bob-Whites’ clubhouse made Trixie feel even worse. The tiny building, which had once been the gatehouse of the Wheeler estate, had been donated to the club by Honey’s father. Then all of the Bob-Whites had pitched in to turn the run-down building into their “dream house.” Jim, Brian, and Mart had put on a new roof and built furniture and shelves to furnish the inside. Honey had sewed the cheerful curtains that framed the windows. All of the Bob-Whites—including Trixie, whose five-dollar-a-week allowance was earned by looking after Bobby and helping her mother with the housework—had worked hard to earn the money for the materials they needed.
    The clubhouse served as a meeting hall, storage area, and party room for Trixie and her friends. Trixie associated it with good times and the warm feeling that all of the Bob-Whites had for one another.
    Iwonder if that’s all changed now, Trixie thought, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. I wonder if Honey will ever speak to me again.
    She felt almost like an intruder as she opened the door and walked in. She went to the small storage area that the boys had partitioned off and almost began to cry again when she saw the seven pairs of ice skates jumbled together on a shelf along with the skis, sleds, tents, and other sports equipment that the Bob-Whites shared. Or used to share, Trixie thought. She quickly found some poster board, red paint, and a brush and went back to the big table in the middle of the room.
    Laying out a piece of poster board and dipping the brush into the paint, Trixie drew the outline of the first arrow. She tried to keep her mind on her work, but as she made the long brush strokes to fill in the arrow, her mind again returned to what Honey had said.
    She tried to figure out why Honey had reacted so strongly. Was Honey feeling guilty about neglecting the bikeathon for the baseball game? Was she tired of trying to defend Ben’s actions to her friends?
    Or maybe, Trixie thought, drawing the outline of another arrow, she meant exactly what she said. And maybe she’s right. Trixie was the one who always seemed to get the Bob-Whites involved in mysteries and other projects. Was that just coincidence? Or did she get involved because she liked all the attention and the credit for helping people and solving mysteries? She began to wonder about her own motives. Even a few days ago, at the art fair, when Nick Roberts said I was a celebrity, I felt just as much flattered as embarrassed....
    Trixie’s mind kept revolving around the same troubled thoughts as she continued to work, outlining and then filling in red arrows on the poster