The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road

known. She gets an allowance from her parents for doing housework and baby-sitting for her little brother, and even though she has to give up all that time, she’s always willing to donate her money to—” Honey stopped herself from saying “to the club treasury” because the Bob-Whites were sworn not to tell that they all contributed their earnings to the treasury to be used for worthy causes. “To people who need it,” Honey finished. “And once she gave a valuable diamond ring to Mr. Lytell, who owns a store out near us, so he’d hold the car her brother Brian wanted to buy.” Honey saw her friend blushing at the praise and didn’t continue her list of Trixie’s unselfish acts.
    Trixie’s embarrassment was caused partly from hearing Honey telling Amy about her virtues, but it was also partly because she knew that she hadn’t been very gracious about giving up the companionship of Honey and Jim to the worthy cause of trying to keep Ben Riker from getting into trouble. I’ve just got to be more understanding about Ben, she thought.
    Aloud she said, “It was easy to give up that diamond because I’d never wear it, anyway, but to sell something I’d made— Well, I still think you’re terrific to do it, and I hope everything works out for you.”
    Saying good-bye to Amy, Trixie and Honey moved on through the gym, looking at exhibits of watercolors, oil paintings, and stained glass. At nearly every exhibit, they heard the same complaint: The young artists knew that the works they were showing weren’t very good, but the lack of supplies and equipment made it difficult to produce really first-rate things.
    “I wish there were something we could do,” Trixie told Honey after they’d made a discouraging round of most of the exhibits. “It seems so unfair that talented people should be held back because they don’t have the supplies they need.”
    “I know,” Honey agreed. “The art department obviously needs a lot more money, but I don’t think they’re going to raise much at this art fair. So few people are here, and nobody seems to be buying anything.”
    “Including us,” Trixie said ruefully. “But I haven’t seen anything I really like. And I don’t want to buy just anything. With the rules we Bob-Whites have about working for the money in our treasury, I’ve learned how important it is to be able to feel as though you’ve earned what you get, instead of taking charity.”
    “Exactly,” Honey agreed. “I think that’s been an even more important lesson for me than it has been for you, Trixie. We’ve had a lot of money ever since I can remember, and I used to just ask for whatever I wanted. But since I’ve been a Bob-White and earned money by doing mending for your mother and mine, I feel a lot better about myself. If we buy something here not because we like it but just because we want to donate money to the art department, the artist will know it, and that would hurt.”
    “Well, there are still a few things we haven’t looked at,” Trixie said. “Let’s hurry and see the rest of the exhibits before our time is up. There might be some pleasant surprises.”
    Without waiting for a reply from Honey, Trixie started off across the gym. Suddenly she felt Honey grasp her arm and heard her friend gasp.
    “Look, Trixie,” Honey said. “It’s the Manor Housel”

A Shattered Vase • 2

    TRIXIE FOLLOWED her friends gaze to the far side of the gym, where a collection of pen-and-ink drawings was hanging against the wall.
    “It is the Manor Housel” Trixie exclaimed. “I can recognize it from clear over here. Oh, and, Honey, there’s Crabapple Farm, too! Let’s go!” Trixie almost ran across the gym to the exhibit, while Honey followed at a more dignified pace.
    Getting closer to the collection of drawings, Trixie saw several other places from the Sleepyside area that she recognized. “Look, Honey,” she said. “There’s Town Hall, and there’s Hoppy.” She leaned forward to peer at the signature on the drawing. “ ’Nicholas William Roberts the third.’ Is that you?” she asked, turning to a serious-looking, dark-haired boy standing nearby.
    “I’m Nick Roberts,” he told her. “But who’s Hoppy?”
    Trixie and Honey looked at each other and giggled. “That’s what we call the grasshopper weather vane on top of the Town Hall building,” Trixie explained. “My mother always thought, when she was a girl, that saying hello to Hoppy brought good luck. And