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may have deserved it, Trixie. I think he deserves a lot worse than a tongue-lashing. The point is, do Honey and Jim deserve it? Do they deserve to be embarrassed and hurt at their own party? I don’t think so. It’s not worth trying to get even with Ben Riker if it endangers our friendship with Honey and Jim.
    And little outbursts like yours do endanger the friendship.”
    “Oh, Mart, you’re right,” Trixie moaned. “I couldn’t bear it if the Wheelers and the Beldens weren’t best friends, especially if I was the cause of it. Nothing Ben Riker could say or do could be worse than losing Jim and Honey. I’ll try to remember that. And, Brian, thanks for getting me out of there before I lost my temper some more.” The Beldens walked the rest of the way to their house in silence. Trixie looked at her brothers. I don’t know what they’re thinking, but I’m thinking that there’s big trouble ahead for the Bob-Whites if Ben Riker stays in Sleepyside.

Depression ● 5

    RIGHT AFTER BREAKFAST the next morning, Trixie went to the telephone and dialed Nick Roberts’s number. She was thinking, with a chuckle, that she’d already memorized his number without ever actually speaking to him on the telephone, when she heard Nick’s voice saying “Hello” on the other end of the line.
    “There you are!” Trixie blurted. “I had begun to think that you and your whole family had left town!”
    “Who is this?” Nick said. His voice sounded annoyed.
    Gleeps! thought Trixie. There I go again, not using the telephone manners that Moms has tried so hard to drum into my thick skull. A caller should always identify himself first thing. Now Nick’s upset, and I can’t say that I blame him.
    Aloud Trixie said, Tm sorry, Nick. This is Trixie Belden. I met you at the art fair the other day, remember?”
    “Sure. Your friend broke Amy Morrisey’s vase,” Nick said, his voice still chilly.
    I can’t seem to win, thought Trixie. The other Bob-Whites are mad at me because I’m not Ben Riker’s friend. Now Nick is acting angry because he thinks I am.
    “Well, I didn’t call to talk about Ben Riker,” Trixie told Nick. “I called to tell you that we have a plan to help the art department raise money. Would you like to hear about it?”
    “Sure,” Nick replied. His tone implied that he doubted whether the plan would be much help.
    Trixie drew a deep breath and tried to recall her earlier enthusiasm. Somehow, Nick’s attitude was causing her to have doubts, too. Nevertheless, she related the Bob-Whites’ plan for the bikeathon to Nick, telling him about all of the people they’d already contacted and including the big surprise— that Mr. Wheeler was the owner of the house where the Bob-Whites planned to have the first rest stop. When she finished, she waited breathlessly for Nick’s response.
    There was a long pause before Nick replied. “It sounds as if you have the whole thing worked out,” he said finally. “Where do I fit in?”
    “We were wondering if you—or someone from the art department—would be willing to make the posters and pledge cards. The posters will be placed around town to get people interested in signing up both as riders and as sponsors. Then, when riders do sign up, they’ll be given pledge cards. They’ll get different people to sign them, offering to pay so many cents for each mile of the route. After the bikeathon, we contact the people who have signed all the pledge cards, and that’s how we collect the money. So you see, the posters and pledge cards are pretty important. Usually we make posters and things ourselves, but in this case, since the money is going to the art department, we felt it was important to have them look sort of—well, artistic—and that’s why I’m calling,” Trixie finished lamely. She wondered why she felt apologetic about asking Nick to help.
    There was another long pause before Nick answered. “I don’t have as much spare time on my hands as you and your