Read Online The Hidden Staircase by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online

today,” Helen remarked. “Especially the men’s!”
    Miss Flora smiled. “And a lot more flattering!”
    The entire trunk was unpacked, before the group selected what they would wear.
    “This pale-green silk gown with the panniers would look lovely on you, Nancy,” Miss Flora said. “And I’m sure it’s just the right size, too.”
    Nancy surveyed the tiny waist of the ball gown. “I’ll try it on,” she said. Then laughingly she added, “But I’ll probably have to hold my breath to close it in the middle. My, but the women in olden times certainly had slim waistlines!”
    Helen was holding up a man’s purple velvet suit. It had knee breeches and the waistcoat had a lace-ruffled front. There were a tricorn hat, long white stockings, and buckled slippers to complete the costume.
    “I think I’ll wear this and be your partner, Nancy,” Helen said.
    Taking off her pumps, she slid her feet into the buckled slippers. The others laughed aloud. A man with a foot twice the size of Helen’s had once worn the slippers!
    “Never mind. I’ll stuff the empty space with paper,” Helen announced gaily.
    Miss Flora and Aunt Rosemary selected gowns for themselves, then opened a good-sized box at the bottom of the trunk. It contained various kinds of wigs worn in Colonial times. All were pure white and fluffy.
    Carrying the costumes and wigs, the group descended to their bedrooms, where they changed into the fancy clothes, then went to the first floor. Miss Flora led the way into the room across the hall from the parlor. She said it once had been the drawing room. Later it had become a library, but the old spinet still stood in a corner.
    Miss Flora sat down at the instrument and began to play Beethoven’s “Minuet.” Aunt Rosemary sat down beside her.
    Nancy and Helen, dubbed by the latter, Master and Mistress Colonial America, began to dance. They clasped their right hands high in the air, then took two steps backward and made little bows. They circled, then strutted, and even put in a few steps with which no dancers in Colonial times would have been familiar.
    Aunt Rosemary giggled and clapped. “I wish President Washington would come to see you,” she said, acting out her part in the entertainment. “Mistress Nancy, prithee do an encore and Master Corning, wilt thou accompany thy fair lady?”
    The girls could barely keep from giggling. Helen made a low bow to her aunt, her tricorn in her hand, and said, “At your service, my lady. Your every wish is my command!”
    The minuet was repeated, then as Miss Flora stopped playing, the girls sat down.
    “Oh, that was such fun!” said Nancy. “Some time I’d like to—Listen!” she commanded suddenly.
    From outside the house they could hear loud shouting. “Come here! You in the house! Come here!”
    Nancy and Helen dashed from their chairs to the front door. Nancy snapped on the porch light and the two girls raced outside.
    “Over here!” a man’s voice urged.
    Nancy and Helen ran down the steps and out onto the lawn. Just ahead of them stood Tom Patrick, the police detective. In a viselike grip he was holding a thin, bent-over man whom the girls judged to be about fifty years of age.
    “Is this your ghost?” the guard asked.
    His prisoner was struggling to free himself but was unable to get loose. The girls hurried forward to look at the man.

    “Is this your ghost?” the police guard asked
    “I caught him sneaking along the edge of the grounds,” Tom Patrick announced.
    “Let me go!” the man cried out angrily. “I’m no ghost. What are you talking about?”
    “You may not be a ghost,” the detective said, “but you could be the thief who has been robbing this house.”
    “What!” his prisoner exclaimed. “I’m no thief! I live around here. Anyone will tell you I’m okay.”
    “What’s your name and where do you live?” the detective prodded. He let the man stand up straight but held one of his arms firmly.
    “My name’s Albert