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older, and
our show is an antique show. Of
course, they have to be glued here and there, and stained. Maybe some of the
chairs have to be re-covered. Why don’t we go and look at them? I’ve only
looked through the cubbyhole door, myself.”
    “I have to dust the
house first,” Trixie said. Her mother looked at her in amazement to think she
had remembered.
    “We’ll help you,
won’t we, Di? Jim’s waiting for us at the house,” Honey said. “Where are Brian
and Mart?”
    “In town with Brian
s jalopy, getting it fixed,” Trixie said. “Maybe they will be here by the time
we finish dusting.”
    “They are here now,”
Bobby announced. He had just opened the back door to ask his mother for a
cookie. “Brian s car sounds so smooth now—just listen!”
    They listened as
Brian whirled the car around and backed it into the garage. It did not sound
much louder than a cement mixer. The girls, hurrying around the house to finish
the dusting, thought it sounded wonderful. They loved Brian s old car almost as
much as he did.
    “Is there anything
the boys have to do for Daddy?” Trixie asked, gathering the dustcloths and
putting them in the broom closet.
    “No,” her mother
answered. “This is one Saturday they haven’t a thing to do—I mean, outside of
regular chores. They were going to wash the station wagon, but it’s too cold a
day for that.”
    “Then may we go over
to the Manor House and explore the attic? Did you hear that, Brian?” she asked
her brother. “And Mart? There are some pieces of old furniture and other things
in the Wheeler attic that Mrs. Wheeler said we could have for our show. Shall
we go over and explore the attic now?”
    “What’s keeping us?”
Mart asked and picked his little brother up and put him on his shoulder.
    “Me, too?” Bobby
asked.
    “I’m afraid not
today, lamb,” Trixie said. “We’re going to be pretty busy.”
    “Let him come, too,”
Honey said. “Miss Trask will read to him, or Regan will take him out to his
apartment over the stable.”
    “Gee whiz, thanks,
Honey,” Bobby said, and he struggled down from Mart’s shoulder.
    “Mrs. Belden, if you
don’t mind, Miss Trask said to ask you if they could all stay for lunch. She
said it would just be hot dogs. May they?”
    “I think so. Trixie,
take Bobby up to his room and change his shirt, please. It seems as though the
Belden children are always eating at your house, Honey.”
    “We come here more
often, Mrs. Belden. Mother has all your recipes in a box at home, but she says
Cook never makes them taste as good as you do.”
    “If I looked as
pretty as your mother does,” Mrs. Belden answered, “I’d never put a foot inside
the kitchen.”
    “There isn’t a movie
actress who can hold a candle to you, Moms,” Mart said and kissed her.
    “Flattery will get
you nowhere,” his mother said, blushing. "Try to be home by four o’clock,
all of you. Your father will be here then. He’s going to bring that film we
took at home on Christmas when you were at the dude ranch.”
    “We’ll try to be on
time, Moms. Do you know—” Trixie put her arm around her mother—“that was one
thing we could hardly stand—being away from Crabapple Farm at Christmas.”
     
    At the Manor House,
Regan met Bobby and took him by the hand to go to his apartment “Tell me my
riddle,” Bobby begged. “You always tell me good riddles.”
    “What has three keys
but can't open locks?” Regan asked, his freckled face amused.
    “That’s a hard one,”
Bobby said. “It’s not my skate key... it’s not our door key... what’s the
answer, Regan?”
    “A zoo. It has a monkey, a don- key, and a tur- key ,” Regan said. “Tell
the other kids good-bye, Bobby”
    Honey led the
Bob-Whites up the two flights of stairs to the attic. They had to go through a
trapdoor to get into the room over the library. Cob-webbed boxes and furniture
were stacked around the room. One light hung from the ceiling, sending weird
shadows into