The secret of the Mansion

that it tore apart at the creases when she tried to unfold it, and a large, green-tinged brass key fell out at her feet.
    "Oh, joy!" she cried triumphantly. "I’ll bet this fits a treasure chest. Now all we have to do is find the chest."
    Jim examined the key carefully. "It looks more like an old-fashioned door key to me," he said. "But I can’t imagine why Uncle James hid it under that pile of papers."
    They tried the front, back, and side doors unsuccessfully, and in the end Jim dropped the key into his silver mug. "It may fit a closet or something in one of the upstairs rooms," he said. "But we can’t go up there. The staircase is boarded up, you know."
    "We could climb in through one of the windows," Trixie interrupted, but Jim shook his head.
    "I don’t like to do that," he said soberly. "This is my uncle’s home, not mine. He must have boarded up the top floors for some good reason of his own." They were all staring at the ceiling, wondering what could be up there and why Mr. Frayne wanted it kept a secret, when they heard the sound of something moving across the floor over their heads.
    Honey gave a little scream and clutched Jim’s arm. "I’ve thought all along this house was haunted," she whispered nervously.
    Even Trixie felt creepy for a moment, and then she joined in Jim’s laughter. "Squirrels, of course," Jim said. "Or field mice."
    "Oh, Jim," Trixie said, "I’d like to explore up there."
    "Well, I wouldn’t," Honey said emphatically. "At this point I’d rather see a ghost than a mad squirrel."
    "Silly!" Trixie hooted. "What’s the idea, Jim, of scaring Honey half to death with crazy stories about mad animals?"
    "They’re not crazy," Jim said seriously. "I saw a mad weasel once, and I’ll never forget it. I was fishing at a pond in the woods, and it came straight at me, running like fury. Lucky for me, I had hip-length rubber boots on, or I probably wouldn’t be here to tell the tale. I killed it with a rock and saved the body to show Dad, who was a naturalist, you know. He said the weasel had hydrophobia. There was a mad dog scare around the countryside that August and Dad said an infected dog had probably bitten the weasel."
    Trixie sniffed. "I never heard of such a thing," she declared. "I’ll bet you made the whole thing up." Jim’s face flushed with anger, and he stared at her through narrowed green eyes. "There’s one thing you’d better find out right now, Trixie Belden," he said evenly. "I never make things up. That was one of the reasons why I left Jonesy. He didn’t believe me when I told him I’d won a scholarship to college. I didn’t bother to show him the letter from the principal of my high school. I just left." And without another word he stalked across the room and vaulted out of the window.
    Trixie felt hot and cold with shame. She knew she had the habit of hurting people’s feelings sometimes, without meaning to. Her mother and father and even her older brothers had often told her she should count to ten before jumping to conclusions, but she never seemed to remember in time. Hot tears burned back of her eyes, and she had to swallow hard before she could call out, "I’m sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean it."
    There was no answer, and Honey said quietly, "Don’t feel so badly, Trixie. Jim’s a very sensitive boy, but he thinks a lot of you. He told me so this morning when he came back after making sure that Bobby was all right. He said it took an awful lot of courage for you to run through the woods right after a mad dog had been there." Shyly she tucked Trixie’s arm through hers. "I wish I wasn’t such a fraidycat. I sat there on the windowsill so scared I couldn’t move and watched you two tearing through the brambles and wondered what it would be like not to be afraid all the time."
    Trixie swallowed again and felt better. "Are you really afraid all the time, Honey? Honest?"
    Honey nodded. "Yes, and especially at night. I have awful nightmares sometimes, and when I was sick, I had nightmares all the time. I keep dreaming over and over that I’m in a tiny little sealed room, and a great big, heavy balloon is pressing down on me. It keeps pressing down until I can’t breathe, and then I wake up screaming."
    Trixie squeezed her arm sympathetically. "Gosh, it must be awful. I haven’t had any nightmares since I was a kid."
    "It is awful," Honey said. "Miss Trask says it’s just nerves, and when I start eating better I’m sure to get over it.
    "Start eating