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it. But I’m not so sure.”

    Henry looked at her questioningly. “You mean because the runaway ghost will be left out?”
    Reese nodded. “I told my mother it isn’t right. The story of Buttercup means a whole lot to Fran.”
    “Your mother seemed pretty firm about it,” said Jessie.
    Violet agreed. “I don’t think she’s going to change her mind.”
    “No, she hasn’t budged,” admitted Reese. “Not yet, anyway,” she added with a mysterious little smile. “Well, I have to be going. Thanks for the game!” With that, she was on her feet and sprinting home across the grass.
    “That’s a bit strange, don’t you think?” remarked Jessie. “Why does Reese think her mother will change her mind?”
    Henry shrugged. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. But I hope she’s right.”
    The Aldens went back into the house. After pouring lemonade into tall glasses, they headed for the living room. Fran was sorting through the old photographs from the attic with Lottie.
    “So, what’s the verdict?” Fran looked up and smiled as the children walked into the room. “Did you enjoy croquet?”
    “We sure did,” Henry answered. “Reese even played for a while.” He sank down in a buttercup-patterned chair.
    “I was hoping you’d spend time together.” Fran seemed pleased. “Speaking of croquet,” she added, waving a photograph in the air, “I thought you might like to see that picture of Homer.” She held it out to Violet. “I was ever so pleased to find it with the other photos. It’s the only one we have.”
    Violet studied the photograph that Fran handed her. It was faded with age and badly creased in places. But it still provided a glimpse of two young men in jackets and trousers. They were standing on either side of a young woman in a hat and a long dress.
    Benny checked it out over Violet’s shoulder. “Look, they are holding mallets.”
    Fran nodded. “Selden’s the young man with the mustache and the straw hat, and that’s Anne standing beside him.” She pointed. “Homer’s on the far right. He’s the one with the flower in his buttonhole.”
    Fran waved another photograph in the air. “Here’s another one you might find interesting. I’d forgotten we even had a picture of the old tree house.”
    Benny’s face lit up. “You mean, the one Anne called Little St. Ives?”
    Nodding, Fran handed the photo to Benny. “It’s just peeking out from the branches of the tree. Can you spot it there?”
    The other Aldens gathered around. “I can see Little St. Ives!” cried Benny. “Wow, too bad it was struck by lightning.”
    Just then, Lottie stood up. “I think I’ll hit the sack early tonight,” she said. “It’s been a long day.” She stretched and yawned.
    “I believe I’ll do the same,” added Fran, removing her reading glasses. She placed the envelope of photographs on the table beside her. “That walk around Cedarburg left me tuckered out.” She said good night, then followed Lottie out of the room.
    Benny rubbed his eyes and yawned.
    Smiling over at her little brother, Jessie said, “Early to bed sounds like a good idea.”
    As they started for the door, Violet noticed that Henry hung back. His eyes were still glued to the photograph of the tree house.
    “What is it, Henry?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
    Henry didn’t answer. Instead, he dashed out of the room. He returned a few moments later with Fran’s magnifying glass. “I think I see something in this photograph,” he said, examining it closely. He had noticed something the others hadn’t.
    Jessie glanced over Henry’s shoulder, “I don’t understand. It’s just a picture of a tree house.”
    “That’s what I thought, too,” said Henry. “Then I noticed something carved into the tree.”
    Jessie studied the picture through the magnifying glass. “You’re right, Henry. There is something carved into the tree.”
    “What is it?” Benny wanted to know.
    “An arrow,” Jessie answered. She