Read Online The Mysterious Visitor by Julie Campbell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie Campbell
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I’m sure she’d say it was."
Diana shook her head. "You don’t understand. I c-can’t explain."
"I understand," Trixie cried impulsively. "You don’t want to hurt your mother’s feelings. She thought that you would be pleased with these arrangements."
"That’s right," Di said, her cheeks flaming. "She let Uncle Monty talk her into thinking all of this would be a grand surprise. Dad is perfectly furious, because he knows how I feel. I mean, he’s awfully mad at Uncle Monty. If you want my candied—I mean, my candid—opinion, Dad can’t stand the sight of Uncle Monty. That’s what I was trying to tell you all on Saturday when I got all mixed up and acted so babyish. I think Dad would give all of his money to Uncle Monty if it meant that Uncle Monty would go away and stay away." Di crammed her clenched fists into the pockets of her red B.W.G. jacket. "Oh, I wish he would. I hate Dad’s money almost as much as I do Uncle Monty." She ran out of the room.
Honey shook her head. "I think Di’s uncle was mean to ruin her plans, but she shouldn’t hate her mother’s brother."
"I understand how she feels," Jim said sympathetically. "I hated my own stepfather. Remember, Honey?"
"That was different," Honey said. "Jonesy was, well, a beast. And he wasn’t a blood relative. He wasn’t any more related to you than David Copperfield was to that awful Mr. Murdstone his mother married. But David’s great-aunt Betsy Trotwood, who didn’t sound very nice in the beginning of the book, was a blood relative, and —well, you’ve all read David Copperfield , so you know what I mean."
"You mean that blood is thicker than water," Brian said soberly. "And it is. Usually."
Mart chuckled. "True, true. We have an aunt named Alicia who keeps on thinking that Trix will become a lady someday and manage to handle a needle as though it were not a crowbar. Aunt Alicia even went so far as to try to teach our sister to tat once, but Trix doesn’t hate her, do you, Trix?"
"Brown eyes," Trixie said suddenly.
They all stared at her in amazement.
"Well, he has got brown eyes," Trixie said defensively. "Mr. Wilson has. And Mrs. Lynch’s eyes are as blue as blue delphiniums."
"So what?" Mart demanded. "You and I and Bobby have Moms’s blue eyes, and Brian’s are black like Dad’s. Does that prove that Brian is an adopted child?"
"No one in his right mind would have adopted you, that’s for sure," Trixie said with a sniff. "I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was just thinking out loud, as usual." Suddenly she remembered what Regan had said: "Don’t think." And what Honey had said: "Even if Mr. Wilson isn’t quite honest, I don’t think we ought to talk about it in front of Di."
She opened her mouth to change the subject, but Jim was saying cheerfully, "Speaking of adopted children, I’m one, and my eyes are neither black nor blue. They’re green. What does that make me, Trix?"
At that moment Di and her uncle joined them at the entrance to the gallery. Mr. Wilson was dressed as a cowboy, complete with chaps and toy pistols, and looked to Trixie rather like a wizened little boy. Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he said, "On with your wigs and masks, podners. The other guests will be arriving soon. I’ve got it all arranged. No unmasking until the bell rings for chow. Soon as everyone gets here, we’ll have a grand march around the ballroom, with me as judge. First prize goes to the best costume. Booby prize goes to the worst. Then we’ll do some square dancing, podners, until we work up an appetite for grub. I’ll do the calling. There’s not much old Uncle Monty doesn’t know about square dancing. Why, if I had my fiddle
here, I’d play ‘Turkey in the Straw’ as you never heard it before. If I had my accordion and mouth organ here, I’d show all of the guests what a real one-man orchestra was like. Music right out of the West!"
"I’m sure you would, Uncle Monty," Di said, forcing a smile to her taut
Diana shook her head. "You don’t understand. I c-can’t explain."
"I understand," Trixie cried impulsively. "You don’t want to hurt your mother’s feelings. She thought that you would be pleased with these arrangements."
"That’s right," Di said, her cheeks flaming. "She let Uncle Monty talk her into thinking all of this would be a grand surprise. Dad is perfectly furious, because he knows how I feel. I mean, he’s awfully mad at Uncle Monty. If you want my candied—I mean, my candid—opinion, Dad can’t stand the sight of Uncle Monty. That’s what I was trying to tell you all on Saturday when I got all mixed up and acted so babyish. I think Dad would give all of his money to Uncle Monty if it meant that Uncle Monty would go away and stay away." Di crammed her clenched fists into the pockets of her red B.W.G. jacket. "Oh, I wish he would. I hate Dad’s money almost as much as I do Uncle Monty." She ran out of the room.
Honey shook her head. "I think Di’s uncle was mean to ruin her plans, but she shouldn’t hate her mother’s brother."
"I understand how she feels," Jim said sympathetically. "I hated my own stepfather. Remember, Honey?"
"That was different," Honey said. "Jonesy was, well, a beast. And he wasn’t a blood relative. He wasn’t any more related to you than David Copperfield was to that awful Mr. Murdstone his mother married. But David’s great-aunt Betsy Trotwood, who didn’t sound very nice in the beginning of the book, was a blood relative, and —well, you’ve all read David Copperfield , so you know what I mean."
"You mean that blood is thicker than water," Brian said soberly. "And it is. Usually."
Mart chuckled. "True, true. We have an aunt named Alicia who keeps on thinking that Trix will become a lady someday and manage to handle a needle as though it were not a crowbar. Aunt Alicia even went so far as to try to teach our sister to tat once, but Trix doesn’t hate her, do you, Trix?"
"Brown eyes," Trixie said suddenly.
They all stared at her in amazement.
"Well, he has got brown eyes," Trixie said defensively. "Mr. Wilson has. And Mrs. Lynch’s eyes are as blue as blue delphiniums."
"So what?" Mart demanded. "You and I and Bobby have Moms’s blue eyes, and Brian’s are black like Dad’s. Does that prove that Brian is an adopted child?"
"No one in his right mind would have adopted you, that’s for sure," Trixie said with a sniff. "I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was just thinking out loud, as usual." Suddenly she remembered what Regan had said: "Don’t think." And what Honey had said: "Even if Mr. Wilson isn’t quite honest, I don’t think we ought to talk about it in front of Di."
She opened her mouth to change the subject, but Jim was saying cheerfully, "Speaking of adopted children, I’m one, and my eyes are neither black nor blue. They’re green. What does that make me, Trix?"
At that moment Di and her uncle joined them at the entrance to the gallery. Mr. Wilson was dressed as a cowboy, complete with chaps and toy pistols, and looked to Trixie rather like a wizened little boy. Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he said, "On with your wigs and masks, podners. The other guests will be arriving soon. I’ve got it all arranged. No unmasking until the bell rings for chow. Soon as everyone gets here, we’ll have a grand march around the ballroom, with me as judge. First prize goes to the best costume. Booby prize goes to the worst. Then we’ll do some square dancing, podners, until we work up an appetite for grub. I’ll do the calling. There’s not much old Uncle Monty doesn’t know about square dancing. Why, if I had my fiddle
here, I’d play ‘Turkey in the Straw’ as you never heard it before. If I had my accordion and mouth organ here, I’d show all of the guests what a real one-man orchestra was like. Music right out of the West!"
"I’m sure you would, Uncle Monty," Di said, forcing a smile to her taut
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