The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road

former math teacher, to look after Honey while they were on their frequent travels. But Trixie knew that the memories of the earlier times were still painful for her friend.
    “Im sorry, Honey,” Trixie said. “You’re right about my not understanding. I guess I’m spoiled by all the affection I’ve always got from my family. I’ll try to be more patient with Ben.”
    Honey raised her head and smiled at Trixie. “You’re wonderful to keep trying. I know he’s my cousin, not yours. But I think he’ll come around soon, and then you’ll like him. Just wait and see.” I’ll wait, Trixie thought, but I don’t think I’m going to see any big change—not in Ben Riker.
    Trixie was so lost in her thoughts about Ben Riker and the problems he’d caused that it took her a while to bring her attention back to the art fair. When she did, it was with a growing feeling of disappointment.
    This art fair was the first ever to be held at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. Posters had been up in the school corridors for over a week announcing it, and Trixie and Honey had both been eager to go—Honey because she had an appreciation of beautiful things and Trixie because she was always curious about a new event, especially one that raised money for a worthy cause, like new equipment for the art department.
    The girls had planned to stay after school this Friday to attend the art fair, even though it would mean missing the school bus, and they were heartbroken when Dan, Jim, and Brian, the only Bob-Whites who had drivers licenses, had other plans and couldn’t give them a ride home. In desperation, Honey had asked Ben, who had consented to wait half an hour, but no more. Both girls felt it was better than nothing, although Trixie harbored the thought that Ben couldn’t have any plans that were so important that he couldn’t have waited longer. But now that they were actually at the art fair....
    “It looks like half an hour will be plenty of time, doesn’t it?” Trixie whispered to Honey.
    “It certainly isn’t what I’d expected,” Honey said tactfully.
    The gymnasium, which was always filled to overflowing at school carnival time, looked empty. There were only a few tables around the center of the gym and a few exhibits of paintings and drawings along the walls. Not very many students had shown an interest in attending the fair, and only one or two people stood in front of each exhibit.
    “Well, as long as we’re here, we might as well look around,” Trixie said, walking to die nearest table. The table held a small collection of pottery cups and vases. Even to Trixie’s untrained eye, they looked lopsided and amateurish. She felt vaguely embarrassed, not knowing what to say to Amy Morrisey, a girl she knew from her English class, who was standing behind the table. To her relief, Honey’s tact once again came to the rescue.
    “I’ve always been amazed that someone can take a lump of clay and put it on a wheel and turn that with their feet while they work the clay with their hands. It takes a lot more coordination than I’ll ever havel” Honey told Amy.
    Amy laughed. “Even with lots of coordination, it still takes a lot of practice. I’ve only been at it for two years, and with just one wheel in the art department, I haven’t had as much practice as I need to be really good. But I’m a lot better than I was. You should have seen the first things I turned out. They looked like something a caveman might have done!”
    “This must be one of your most recent things,” Honey said, pointing to a large vase with a blue glaze. “It’s really quite good.”
    “It’s my favorite,” Amy admitted. “I almost didn’t put it in the show because I’d like to keep it. But I decided that was a selfish attitude. The art department needs the money so badly, and this is the only thing I’ve done that’s good enough to ask a decent price for.” She shrugged. “I finally told myself I can’t really lose, either way. If it doesn’t sell, I get to keep it. And if it does, I have the satisfaction of knowing that the money will go to the art department.”
    “That’s terrific! I can never make myself think that way,” Trixie said, wrinkling her freckled nose and shaking her head so that her sandy curls bounced. “No matter how good the cause is, I just hate to give up anything of my own for it.”
    “That’s not true,” Honey said loyally. “Why, Trixie is the most generous person I’ve ever