…”
“But who would do such a thing?” Susan blurted out. She looked at her aunt, who was fumbling with her pocketbook.
“I think it’s you, Mrs. Sealy,” Henry said quietly. “I saw you poking around the van earlier today. You had no reason to be there.”
“This is ridiculous!” Mrs. Sealy blurted out. She clutched her pocketbook more firmly, and suddenly Violet realized that she had something to hide.
“How dare you accuse my sister!” Mrs. Miller said. “What would she want with a baseball card? Look, I’ll prove it to you.” Before anyone could stop her, she grabbed Mrs. Sealy’s pocketbook and emptied the contents on a picnic table. “See, what did I tell you?” she said angrily. “Here’s a hairbrush, some tissues, a change purse, and …” She paused, shaken. A plastic-wrapped baseball card lay squarely on the table. “Oh, no!” she gasped.
“And a baseball card,” Henry said. He picked up the card and showed it to the group. “Joe DiMaggio. Except this one’s not autographed.”
Mrs. Miller looked astonished. “What’s going on?” she asked, turning to her sister. Mrs. Sealy didn’t answer, and stood with her arms folded across her chest. “Well, say something, Edna,” Mrs. Miller persisted. “How did this end up in your purse?”
Mrs. Sealy hesitated for a moment, and then realized the game was up. “All right,” she said. Her voice was low and angry. “I took the card.”
“And that’s not all you took, is it?” Jessie asked.
Mrs. Sealy shook her head. “I took some other things as well.”
“But why?” Susan looked as if she was near tears. “Why would you do such a thing?” Violet felt sorry for her. It must he terrible to think that your own aunt would try to destroy your team.
“You know I wanted you to drop out of baseball,” Mrs. Sealy began. “I thought if enough bad things happened, maybe you’d get disgusted and stop playing. Or maybe Coach would disband the Bears, I don’t know …” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t suppose this makes sense to you.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Susan said. Her voice was shaky. “I love being on the team. And I never understood why you hate the game so much.”
“Don’t you see?” Mrs. Sealy took a step toward Susan. “It takes time away from more important things. You could be a wonderful artist if you just spent more time painting. You’re wasting your time on this … baseball field.”
“Why didn’t you just tell her how you felt?” Mrs. Miller asked.
Mrs. Sealy looked vaguely at her sister. “I tried to … I guess I never believed it would sink in. I thought this way would be better.”
“You made a big mistake,” Coach Warren said. “You’ve caused a lot of problems for us.”
“I know. I see now that I was wrong.” She paused. “I’m really sorry, Susan. You probably don’t believe this, but I did it for you.”
“But I wasn’t giving up my painting,” Susan said. Her voice was stronger now. “I’m still going to take lessons and paint every day in the off-season. I thought you knew that.”
Mrs. Sealy shook her head and for a moment no one said anything.
“It’s a big relief to know who did it,” Chuck said.
“Did you take Jessie’s mitt?” Benny demanded. “And then try to trick her with a fake one?”
“Yes, I took her mitt.” Mrs. Sealy looked embarrassed. “But I don’t know anything about a fake one.”
“You don’t?” Henry looked suspicious.
“She’s telling the truth,” Chuck said. “I felt so sorry for you, Jessie, that I tried to make you a new one. I guess I didn’t fool anyone.”
“You did?” asked Jessie. Chuck nodded, embarrassed.
“The new one still looked new,” Jessie explained,
Benny turned to Mr. Jackson. “We were afraid maybe you were the one who switched gloves.”
“Me?” Mr. Jackson looked surprised. “What made you think that?”
“You always keep a saltshaker in the dugout …”
“And salt can be used to
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