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friends seem to, but if this bikeathon business is supposed to help the art department, I guess I should help out. Talk to me about it in school tomorrow.”
    “Thanks, Nick. Where should I meet—” Trixie heard a clicking noise and realized that Nick had already hung up. “Well,” she muttered, hanging up the phone, “I guess I succeeded in my assignment— if I can track Nick down at school tomorrow to talk to him.”
    Trixie started to walk away from the phone, then snapped her fingers as another thought struck her. She picked up the phone again and dialed Honey’s number.
    When Honey answered, Trixie told her about Nick’s reluctantly agreeing to do the posters and pledge cards, then added, “But guess what we forgot. There are going to be simply loads of kids biking around that route—and we know where it goes, but they don’t. We’ll have to have arrows up along the roads, pointing the direction. I don’t want to ask Nick to do the arrows, too—not after the way he reacted to doing the other stuff. Besides, how artistic does an arrow have to be? I think we should handle those ourselves.”
    “You’re right, Trixie,” Honey agreed. “I think we have some poster board and paint down at the clubhouse. I’ll be glad to help.”
    “That’s great,” Trixie said. “How about meeting me at the clubhouse in an hour?”
    “Oh, Trixie, I can’t do it today,” Honey said apologetically. “My parents are taking Jim, Ben, and me to a baseball game in the city this afternoon, and then to dinner afterward. I’m sorry.” Trixie once again felt resentment of Ben Riker welling up inside her. Without stopping to think, she said sarcastically, “In all the time I’ve known you, I didn’t realize that you were such a baseball fan, Honey. At least, I’ve never known you to let a baseball game interfere with doing something worthwhile. I guess I’ll just have to take care of everything alone.”
    As soon as the words were spoken, Trixie regretted them. For the third time that day, she found herself waiting uncomfortably for the person on the other end of the telephone to speak.
    When Honey did respond, it was in an icy tone that Trixie had never heard her use before—would not, in fact, have believed possible from her gentle, tactful friend.
    “Might I point out to you, Trixie Belden, that all of the other Bob-Whites had their assignments completed yesterday—before the picnic that you ruined with your flash of temper. I hardly think that means you’re ’taking care of everything alone.’ Besides, there’s an old saying about charity beginning at home that you should pay attention to. You could devote some time to the worthwhile project of understanding Ben, instead of plunging into helping Nick Roberts, whom you hardly know.
    “I think you’re more worried about getting a lot of attention from organizing the bikeathon than you are about helping anybody. That’s what I think.” Honey’s voice sounded choked as she finished speaking.
    For the second time that day, Trixie heard the abrupt clicking sound through the receiver. She blinked back tears as she put the telephone down.
    Trixie’s hot temper was well-known by all the Bob-Whites. They knew that their friend spoke without thinking—and often without feeling as strongly about things as her words would seem to indicate. For that reason, they tended to respond by teasing Trixie out of her bad mood, rather than taking it seriously. An angry response like Honey’s was something that Trixie had rarely had to deal with, and it was all the harder for her to cope with it since it had come from Honey, who seldom became upset with anyone.
    Trixie knew that it wouldn’t take long for some member of her close-knit family to notice her tearful face and ask her what was wrong. She knew, too, that she didn’t want to explain it to her family, especially since her hint and confusion at Honey’s response was mixed with guilt for what she had said.
    Trixie