Read Online The Mystery of the Headless Horseman by Julie Campbell - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Campbell
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else—out there.
Mrs. Crandall, neatly dressed in blouse and skirt, told them that she had only just returned from Croton-on-Hudson. Her brown eyes twinkled when she told them that she had brought her sister home with her to keep her company for a few days. As for Harrison’s accident—
“I still don’t understand how the poor man came to shut himself in my cellar,” she declared, leading the way into the cozy living room. “I read your brother’s note, of course, but I never knew that door to slam quite that way before.” Now that she was safely inside the house, Honey also seemed to be relieved. She was still breathing hard, as though she’d been running a race. But she was feeling brave enough, Trixie noticed, to smile at the other occupant of the room, a plump little woman who was smiling at them both.
“This is my sister, Mrs. Polly Ward,” Mrs. Crandall said. “Polly, you said you wanted to meet the Good Samaritans who were here this afternoon. Well, here are two of them: Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler.”
Mrs. Ward shook hands with them warmly. “My, what a treat this is!” she exclaimed. “We were just wondering what on earth could have happened this afternoon. Now here you are to tell us all about it.” She patted the couch beside her. “Come and sit down, both of you.”
As they obeyed, Mrs. Crandall looked closely at Honey. “Why, child,” she said, “you’re as white as a sheet. Is anything wrong?”
Just in time, Honey caught Trixie’s warning shake of the head.
“N-No,” she said. “It’s just that—uh—we— uh— You tell about it, Trix!”
“We both got a little out of breath riding uphill through the woods,” Trixie said promptly. “That was some ride, wasn’t it, Honey?”
Honey didn’t answer. She was staring at something that came toward her and brushed lovingly against her ankles. It was the cat, Henry!
Trixie gasped. “Oh, Mrs. Crandall! I’m so glad to see him!” she cried. “Honey and I came here tonight because I thought I’d accidentally locked Henry in the cellar. We weren’t sure when you’d be home, you see
“And so you dear girls came all the way back here to rescue him,” Mrs. Crandall said quietly. “How very kind and thoughtful of you.”
“You were very kind to us once,” Trixie reminded her shyly. “My brother’s car broke down, and you let us use your phone.”
Mrs. Crandall chuckled. “My,” she said, “that was nothing. Neighbors should help each other.” Honey looked embarrassed. “It was all Trixie’s idea to come here tonight,” she said. “I didn’t want to come—even for Henry. I—I knew those woods were going to be spooky.”
“Spooky?” Mrs. Crandall sounded startled. “Honey,” Trixie broke in quickly, “why don’t you tell Mrs. Crandall and Mrs. Ward about what happened here this afternoon. Tell them about how Henry scared me.”
Honey did, and soon they were all laughing at the story of Trixie’s monster. After that, it was easy for the two girls to tell again what had happened that afternoon.
As they talked, Trixie relaxed and looked around the now-familiar room.
Yes, the Bob-Whites had done a good job of removing all signs of their presence. Even the odor of lavender perfume was not as strong as it had been that afternoon.
Instead, the room now smelled pleasantly of wood smoke. Someone had started a fire in the wide fireplace, and it blazed and crackled cheerfully.
Above it, on the mantelpiece, stood the greeting card, its secret code as tantalizing as ever. Trixie longed to ask about it, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so.
She did tell Mrs. Crandall everything she knew about the state of Harrison’s health. Then she told her quietly about the cellar door.
“And it was locked and bolted when Honey and I arrived,” she said. “I was wondering if you could think of any reason for someone to have locked Harrison in the cellar.”
Mrs. Crandall shook her head in bewilderment.
Mrs. Crandall, neatly dressed in blouse and skirt, told them that she had only just returned from Croton-on-Hudson. Her brown eyes twinkled when she told them that she had brought her sister home with her to keep her company for a few days. As for Harrison’s accident—
“I still don’t understand how the poor man came to shut himself in my cellar,” she declared, leading the way into the cozy living room. “I read your brother’s note, of course, but I never knew that door to slam quite that way before.” Now that she was safely inside the house, Honey also seemed to be relieved. She was still breathing hard, as though she’d been running a race. But she was feeling brave enough, Trixie noticed, to smile at the other occupant of the room, a plump little woman who was smiling at them both.
“This is my sister, Mrs. Polly Ward,” Mrs. Crandall said. “Polly, you said you wanted to meet the Good Samaritans who were here this afternoon. Well, here are two of them: Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler.”
Mrs. Ward shook hands with them warmly. “My, what a treat this is!” she exclaimed. “We were just wondering what on earth could have happened this afternoon. Now here you are to tell us all about it.” She patted the couch beside her. “Come and sit down, both of you.”
As they obeyed, Mrs. Crandall looked closely at Honey. “Why, child,” she said, “you’re as white as a sheet. Is anything wrong?”
Just in time, Honey caught Trixie’s warning shake of the head.
“N-No,” she said. “It’s just that—uh—we— uh— You tell about it, Trix!”
“We both got a little out of breath riding uphill through the woods,” Trixie said promptly. “That was some ride, wasn’t it, Honey?”
Honey didn’t answer. She was staring at something that came toward her and brushed lovingly against her ankles. It was the cat, Henry!
Trixie gasped. “Oh, Mrs. Crandall! I’m so glad to see him!” she cried. “Honey and I came here tonight because I thought I’d accidentally locked Henry in the cellar. We weren’t sure when you’d be home, you see
“And so you dear girls came all the way back here to rescue him,” Mrs. Crandall said quietly. “How very kind and thoughtful of you.”
“You were very kind to us once,” Trixie reminded her shyly. “My brother’s car broke down, and you let us use your phone.”
Mrs. Crandall chuckled. “My,” she said, “that was nothing. Neighbors should help each other.” Honey looked embarrassed. “It was all Trixie’s idea to come here tonight,” she said. “I didn’t want to come—even for Henry. I—I knew those woods were going to be spooky.”
“Spooky?” Mrs. Crandall sounded startled. “Honey,” Trixie broke in quickly, “why don’t you tell Mrs. Crandall and Mrs. Ward about what happened here this afternoon. Tell them about how Henry scared me.”
Honey did, and soon they were all laughing at the story of Trixie’s monster. After that, it was easy for the two girls to tell again what had happened that afternoon.
As they talked, Trixie relaxed and looked around the now-familiar room.
Yes, the Bob-Whites had done a good job of removing all signs of their presence. Even the odor of lavender perfume was not as strong as it had been that afternoon.
Instead, the room now smelled pleasantly of wood smoke. Someone had started a fire in the wide fireplace, and it blazed and crackled cheerfully.
Above it, on the mantelpiece, stood the greeting card, its secret code as tantalizing as ever. Trixie longed to ask about it, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so.
She did tell Mrs. Crandall everything she knew about the state of Harrison’s health. Then she told her quietly about the cellar door.
“And it was locked and bolted when Honey and I arrived,” she said. “I was wondering if you could think of any reason for someone to have locked Harrison in the cellar.”
Mrs. Crandall shook her head in bewilderment.
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