The Pet Show Mystery

call,” Honey said. “But what if somebody does try to enter a snake?”
    “We have to let them enter,” Trixie said. “We didn’t say ‘no snakes’ on the poster.”
    Trixie’s mind was taken off snakes when she spotted someone standing in the hallway a short distance from their table. She nudged Honey and whispered, “Look over there.”
    “Norma Nelson,” Honey said. “She must be about ready to go feed the birds—she’s dressed for it, anyway.”
    “That’s what I thought,” Trixie said. “But this is the third time I’ve looked up and seen her.”
    “You mean she just keeps standing there?” Honey asked.
    Trixie shook her head. “She leaves and comes back, I think. I’ve looked up a few times and she hasn’t been there.”
    “Maybe she’s the forgetful type,” Di said. “Sometimes I have to go back to my locker three times before I get everything I need.”
    “Maybe,” Trixie said reluctantly. “But there’s something kind of creepy about the way she’s standing there.”
    “Oooh, don’t say ‘creepy,’ ” Di said, hugging herself and shuddering. “You’re making me think of snakes again. This pet show just isn’t as much fun as it used to be.”

    By the next day, though, Di found it hard to maintain her pessimistic attitude. At the end of the first hour she spent at the sign-up table at Sleepyside Mall, her eyes were sparkling. “At school, it was the pets that seemed funny,” she whispered to Trixie. “Here, it’s the owners!
    Trixie nodded her agreement. She handed an entry blank to a middle-aged couple who were decked out in matching snowmobile suits. “Dr. Chang was right,” she whispered back. “People do take their pets seriously. That’s what seems so funny.”
    As if to illustrate Trixie’s point, the woman looked up from the entry blank and said, “This competition won’t be too strenuous, will it? Our Samantha is a very intelligent cat, but she isn’t overly physical, if you know what I mean.”
    Struggling to keep a straight face, Trixie answered, “No, ma’am. The animals don’t really need to do anything, except be there. Intelligence counts every bit as much as, uh, physique in this show.”
    “Well, then, Ward, we certainly want to enter Samantha,” the woman said. Her husband nodded, and the woman filled out the entry blank and handed it back to Trixie with their two dollars.
    When they had left, Trixie said, “Well, the grown-ups in Sleepyside are sillier about their pets than the teenagers are. I’d say they’re just as bored with winter, though, judging from the activity we’ve had today.”
    “The pet show is bound to be a success, all right,” Di agreed.
    “It will be successful in every way,” Honey added. “I’ve seen several people go inside the pet shop after we’ve talked to them and come out with sacks of cracked corn. So we’re helping the game birds already!”
    “So you’re helping the game birds.” The mocking voice made the three girls look up with a start. A thin, bearded young man was standing in front of their table. Unlike most of the people at the mall, he was wearing a thin, woolen jacket, not a thick, down-filled one. He was bare-headed, and there were no bulges in his pockets from heavy gloves. “The birds will be fed this winter. Isn’t that just wonderful.”
    “We think it is,” Trixie said.
    “Sure, it is,” the young man said in the same sarcastic way. “Let’s be sure we save the birds, the adorable little birds. Let’s not worry about all the people in the world who are starving. They aren’t cute. They don’t sing pretty for the folks here in Sleepyside. So it’s no point seeing that they get fed.”
    “That’s not true,” Trixie said, her temper flaring. “We have raised money for people. We do think people are important. We just happen to be helping the birds this time, that’s all.”
    “You’ve done your bit for people, have you? Is that what you’re trying to say?” the young man retorted.
    “That’s not it at all,” Honey said. “We haven’t done enough for people. I mean, not all we’re ever going to do. We’ll do more someday, but— Oh, what’s the use of talking to you?”
    “None at all,” said another voice.
    The girls turned to see a middle-aged man approaching the table. He was as distinguished-looking as the younger man was scruffy. His charcoal-gray topcoat made his curly white hair seem almost radiant. He held his hat politely in his hands.