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Authors: Julie Campbell
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perfection over an open fire.’ ”
After much agonizing over the tantalizing descriptions, Smiley Jackson finally received eight orders of Captain’s Chowder. The thick, creamy soup was to be followed by Swashbuckler’s Steak (“cooked the way you like it”), one demure order of iced tea (for Miss Trask), three more Maiden’s Delights for the girls, and four Jolly Rogers—also punch—for the boys.
Mart tried to order the Yo-Ho-Ho Rum Cake for dessert, but Smiley merely said casually, “I think the boss has something else planned for you tonight.”
“Probably Yummy Yardarm Yogurt,” Trixie said, jokingly, knowing her brother didn’t like yogurt.
“Or perhaps I-Scream-You-Scream-We-All-Scream-for-Ice-Cream,” Jim suggested.
Miss Trask sighed. “I simply don’t know what to expect this evening,” she said. “My brother Wouldn’t say what his surprise is going to be. I must say, though”—she glanced at the fearsome portrait facing her—“that picture is quite taking away my appetite.”
“Would you like to change places with me?” Trixie asked quickly. “That way you won’t have to look at it.”
“Thank you, Trixie,” Miss Trask said briskly, but I will not be chased from my chair by an inanimate object. I can’t imagine why the original painting had to be removed, though. It was much nicer than this one.”
Privately, Trixie agreed with her. She wasn’t sure whether this portrait really did lend atmosphere to the room. All she knew was that having it behind her made her feel acutely uncomfortable. Every time she glanced over her shoulder, she imagined that the pirate’s eyes were watching only her.
When she confided this fancy to Di, she discovered that her friend had the same feeling.
“The picture isn’t going to spoil my dinner,” Di whispered, “but I sure wish Mr. Trask would move it someplace else. Where is he, anyway?”
When he did arrive, the Bob-Whites almost didn’t recognize him. In place of his pirate chief’s costume, he wore a smart dark blue suit, a pale blue shirt, and a striped tie.
Instantly, he was the courteous host, making sure that his guests had everything they wanted. Then, when they were enjoying their meal, he told them story after story of the old inn’s earlier days.
Mart, not to be outdone, promptly told several stories of his own. Soon the captain’s table was the merriest spot in the room.
Once, after a particularly noisy burst of laughter, Trixie found the Weasel’s one eye staring in their direction. On the other hand, Mr. Appleton, who was dining alone at a small table nearby, seemed to be enjoying their conversation. On several occasions, Trixie saw him smile and lean toward them, straining to hear what was being said.
“I wonder what he’s done with Clarence?” she murmured to Honey, who immediately began to giggle again.
Trixie was having such a good time that she quite forgot to notice whether Mr. Appleton’s every move was being watched—or even her own. Somehow it no longer seemed to matter. With the good food in front of her, and her laughing friends around her, she was beginning to think that she had never felt happier in her life.
At last the Bob-Whites leaned back in their chairs, wondering if their stomachs would ever be able to hold another morsel of food.
Mart groaned as Smiley Jackson deftly removed his dinner plate. “That was one of the most scrumptious meals I’ve ever had,” he announced. “Undoubtedly, my avoirdupois has now been augmented by countless pounds and ounces.”
“If that means you shoveled food into your mouth without even pausing for breath tonight,” Trixie remarked thoughtlessly, “then I guess we’ll all agree.”
Instantly, Mart drawled, “Take care, sister dear, for your accusation could apply equally to yourself. In other words, it’s merely a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,
Mart Belden,” Trixie retorted, her
After much agonizing over the tantalizing descriptions, Smiley Jackson finally received eight orders of Captain’s Chowder. The thick, creamy soup was to be followed by Swashbuckler’s Steak (“cooked the way you like it”), one demure order of iced tea (for Miss Trask), three more Maiden’s Delights for the girls, and four Jolly Rogers—also punch—for the boys.
Mart tried to order the Yo-Ho-Ho Rum Cake for dessert, but Smiley merely said casually, “I think the boss has something else planned for you tonight.”
“Probably Yummy Yardarm Yogurt,” Trixie said, jokingly, knowing her brother didn’t like yogurt.
“Or perhaps I-Scream-You-Scream-We-All-Scream-for-Ice-Cream,” Jim suggested.
Miss Trask sighed. “I simply don’t know what to expect this evening,” she said. “My brother Wouldn’t say what his surprise is going to be. I must say, though”—she glanced at the fearsome portrait facing her—“that picture is quite taking away my appetite.”
“Would you like to change places with me?” Trixie asked quickly. “That way you won’t have to look at it.”
“Thank you, Trixie,” Miss Trask said briskly, but I will not be chased from my chair by an inanimate object. I can’t imagine why the original painting had to be removed, though. It was much nicer than this one.”
Privately, Trixie agreed with her. She wasn’t sure whether this portrait really did lend atmosphere to the room. All she knew was that having it behind her made her feel acutely uncomfortable. Every time she glanced over her shoulder, she imagined that the pirate’s eyes were watching only her.
When she confided this fancy to Di, she discovered that her friend had the same feeling.
“The picture isn’t going to spoil my dinner,” Di whispered, “but I sure wish Mr. Trask would move it someplace else. Where is he, anyway?”
When he did arrive, the Bob-Whites almost didn’t recognize him. In place of his pirate chief’s costume, he wore a smart dark blue suit, a pale blue shirt, and a striped tie.
Instantly, he was the courteous host, making sure that his guests had everything they wanted. Then, when they were enjoying their meal, he told them story after story of the old inn’s earlier days.
Mart, not to be outdone, promptly told several stories of his own. Soon the captain’s table was the merriest spot in the room.
Once, after a particularly noisy burst of laughter, Trixie found the Weasel’s one eye staring in their direction. On the other hand, Mr. Appleton, who was dining alone at a small table nearby, seemed to be enjoying their conversation. On several occasions, Trixie saw him smile and lean toward them, straining to hear what was being said.
“I wonder what he’s done with Clarence?” she murmured to Honey, who immediately began to giggle again.
Trixie was having such a good time that she quite forgot to notice whether Mr. Appleton’s every move was being watched—or even her own. Somehow it no longer seemed to matter. With the good food in front of her, and her laughing friends around her, she was beginning to think that she had never felt happier in her life.
At last the Bob-Whites leaned back in their chairs, wondering if their stomachs would ever be able to hold another morsel of food.
Mart groaned as Smiley Jackson deftly removed his dinner plate. “That was one of the most scrumptious meals I’ve ever had,” he announced. “Undoubtedly, my avoirdupois has now been augmented by countless pounds and ounces.”
“If that means you shoveled food into your mouth without even pausing for breath tonight,” Trixie remarked thoughtlessly, “then I guess we’ll all agree.”
Instantly, Mart drawled, “Take care, sister dear, for your accusation could apply equally to yourself. In other words, it’s merely a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,
Mart Belden,” Trixie retorted, her
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