Read The Mystery at Saratoga for Free Online Page B

certainly does,” Trixie agreed, shivering as she remembered the times, years ago, when she had lain awake in her room after listening to one of Mart’s tales, imagining that every shadow was a ghost.
    Mrs. Belden, reading ahead, smiled as she said, “The handwriting changes here. See if you can guess who wrote this:
    “ ‘My elder sibling is predictably unostentatious in describing our peregrinations. His ministrations to sunburns and blisters were no less integral to our journey than Jim’s forest acumen or my histrionic ability.’ ”
    “I know who wrote it,” Bobby said. “Mart did. But I sure don’t know what it means!”
    Trixie sniffed. “I doubt that Mart knows exactly what all those big words mean, either, Bobby. But I think the translation is something like, ‘Brian didn’t take enough credit for what he did on the trip. He gave first aid to the campers, and that was just as important as Jim’s woodlore or Mart’s scary stories.’ Right, Moms?”
    Mrs. Belden nodded and continued reading. “ ‘Seriously, Moms, I can tell from watching Brian and Jim that we have a good idea in planning to open a school for boys after we all finish college. Brian is going to be a first-rate doctor, and Jim is just wonderful with all the kids up here. Working at this camp is great experience for us, although my teaching of agriculture is limited pretty much to trying to make sure that everyone can recognize poison ivy. And I might add that I haven’t always succeeded even in that.’ ”
    “Poison ivy—yuch!” Bobby shouted.
    “Yuch is right,” Trixie added. “Go on, Moms.”
    “There’s not much left,” Mrs. Belden said. “Just one more paragraph, in Brian’s handwriting again. He says, ‘Sorry this letter is so short, but we have to hit the hay. The wake-up call comes awfully early around here, and the kids wake up rarin’ to go. We’re both looking forward to coming home to the soft life at Crabapple Farm next week.’ ”
    “Soft life!” Trixie hooted. “They’re not going to have it so soft when I hand over my chores for three weeks, to make up for having done all of theirs since they’ve been gone.”
    “That’s something you’ll have to work out with your brothers,” Mrs. Belden said. “Right now, you might be interested in the postscript to this letter.” Taking the letter from her mother, Trixie felt her heart flutter as she recognized Jim’s handwriting.
    “Dear Trix,” she read silently, “I’ve been writing to Honey and my folks while Brian and Mart wrote this letter, and I’m just as bushed as they are. But I did want to say hi. And I wanted to remind you to take care of yourself and not—I repeat, not —get involved in any mysteries while we’re away. I worry about you, Trixie. We all do.”
    Trixie felt a wave of guilt. She and Honey had debated, on the way home the night before, whether or not they should telephone the boys and tell them about Regan’s disappearance and their decision to go to Saratoga to try to find the missing groom. Honey, who was more willing to admit her feeling of dependence on Jim, had argued for writing to the boys. Trixie had argued against that approach, pointing out that if the boys came home, it would be impossible to convince Honey’s parents that their trip to Saratoga was just a vacation. The Wheelers would realize immediately that the girls had asked to go to Saratoga so that they could find Regan, Trixie pointed out. And, more than likely, the result would simply be that the Wheelers would refuse to take any of the Bob-Whites along, ending their chances to find Regan and clear up the mystery.
    In the end, it had been Dan who had tipped the scales in favor of not calling Mart, Brian, and Jim. He had reminded the girls of how important working at the camp was to the boys’ futures. If they left early, Dan argued, it might be hard for them to get good references from the camp director, and they probably wouldn’t get hired again the