Read Online The Mystery of the Headless Horseman by Julie Campbell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie Campbell
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him.”
Suddenly, Polly Ward laughed. “Rose, will you please put this poor child out of her misery?” She shot an amused glance at Trixie. “She keeps on staring up at your card on the mantelpiece. You don’t have to be a mind reader to figure out that she’s dying to find out what it says.” Embarrassed at having been caught, Trixie began to protest. Then she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “we couldn’t help noticing it this afternoon. I know we shouldn’t have looked at it, but—”
Rose Crandall stood up and took the card down from the mantelpiece. She appeared delighted to explain.
“This was the last card I received from my husband before he died,” she said simply. She handed it to Trixie. “That’s why I treasure it. He often sent me cards just like that one. Oh, the message was different each time. But it always had puzzle pictures on it.”
Polly Ward chuckled. “Jonathan was a great one for puzzles,” she said. “He loved them.”
Rose Crandall waved a hand at the bookshelves. “He loved mystery stories, too, as you can see. Sometimes I think he must have read every mystery and detective book that was ever written. One of his favorite authors was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He wrote the Sherlock Holmes adventures, you know.”
“Jonathan liked to make up puzzles of his own, too,” Polly Ward added. “The card you’re holding, Trixie, is a good example of it.”
“You must look at the pictures,” Mrs. Crandall said, her eyes twinkling, “and read aloud what you see.”
Trixie frowned. “I can see Hoppy, the Town Hall weather vane,” she said slowly. “I can see a drawing of Sleepyside Hollow. I can see a hot dog. I can see a flower. And I still can’t see that it means anything.”
The two sisters looked at each other and laughed aloud.
“You’ve almost got it,” Mrs. Crandall said, “but not quite.” She pointed. “This is Hoppy. This is a hollow. This is a wienie, and this is a rose. My name is Rose. Put it all together.”
Suddenly, Trixie shouted with laughter, too. “And did you receive this card last October?” Rose Crandall smiled and nodded.
“What is it, Trixie?” Honey asked, taking the card from her hand. “What does it mean?”
“Oh, don’t you see?” Trixie cried. “It says: Hoppy. Hollow. Wienie. Rose. If you say it quickly, you’ll get the message: ‘Happy Halloween, Rose.’ Oh, what a terrible pun!”
They were still laughing when Trixie realized that they had been at the little house far longer than she had intended.
“I promised Honey we would zip here and back home again in nothing flat,” she confessed. “We must go. It’s dark, and our folks will be getting worried.”
“Then why not phone them?” Mrs. Crandall suggested. “I could make some hot chocolate for all of us. Then, if you’d like, you could leave your bicycles here. I’d be glad to drive you home.” From the expression on Honey’s face, Trixie could tell that she was thinking of that long, dark ride back through the woods.
“What a perfect idea!” Honey exclaimed. “Let’s, Trixie! Jim could drive back here early tomorrow morning, before the bazaar, to pick up the bikes in the station wagon.”
Trixie grinned.
“How can I refuse?” she told them all. “And thank you; the hot chocolate sounds delicious.” The two girls made their telephone calls and received permission to stay a little longer.
“As long as you’re sure,” Trixie’s mother added, “that Mrs. Crandall won’t mind bringing you home.”
“I’m sure, Moms,” Trixie answered. “And say, before you go, how did Mart and Reddy get along with the lessons?”
“Not well, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Belden said, chuckling. “I think that Reddy taught Mart, instead of the other way around. As far as I can see, that dog delights in doing exactly the opposite of what he’s told.”
When Trixie hung up, Rose Crandall and her sister hurried to the kitchen. Soon Trixie and Honey could
Suddenly, Polly Ward laughed. “Rose, will you please put this poor child out of her misery?” She shot an amused glance at Trixie. “She keeps on staring up at your card on the mantelpiece. You don’t have to be a mind reader to figure out that she’s dying to find out what it says.” Embarrassed at having been caught, Trixie began to protest. Then she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “we couldn’t help noticing it this afternoon. I know we shouldn’t have looked at it, but—”
Rose Crandall stood up and took the card down from the mantelpiece. She appeared delighted to explain.
“This was the last card I received from my husband before he died,” she said simply. She handed it to Trixie. “That’s why I treasure it. He often sent me cards just like that one. Oh, the message was different each time. But it always had puzzle pictures on it.”
Polly Ward chuckled. “Jonathan was a great one for puzzles,” she said. “He loved them.”
Rose Crandall waved a hand at the bookshelves. “He loved mystery stories, too, as you can see. Sometimes I think he must have read every mystery and detective book that was ever written. One of his favorite authors was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He wrote the Sherlock Holmes adventures, you know.”
“Jonathan liked to make up puzzles of his own, too,” Polly Ward added. “The card you’re holding, Trixie, is a good example of it.”
“You must look at the pictures,” Mrs. Crandall said, her eyes twinkling, “and read aloud what you see.”
Trixie frowned. “I can see Hoppy, the Town Hall weather vane,” she said slowly. “I can see a drawing of Sleepyside Hollow. I can see a hot dog. I can see a flower. And I still can’t see that it means anything.”
The two sisters looked at each other and laughed aloud.
“You’ve almost got it,” Mrs. Crandall said, “but not quite.” She pointed. “This is Hoppy. This is a hollow. This is a wienie, and this is a rose. My name is Rose. Put it all together.”
Suddenly, Trixie shouted with laughter, too. “And did you receive this card last October?” Rose Crandall smiled and nodded.
“What is it, Trixie?” Honey asked, taking the card from her hand. “What does it mean?”
“Oh, don’t you see?” Trixie cried. “It says: Hoppy. Hollow. Wienie. Rose. If you say it quickly, you’ll get the message: ‘Happy Halloween, Rose.’ Oh, what a terrible pun!”
They were still laughing when Trixie realized that they had been at the little house far longer than she had intended.
“I promised Honey we would zip here and back home again in nothing flat,” she confessed. “We must go. It’s dark, and our folks will be getting worried.”
“Then why not phone them?” Mrs. Crandall suggested. “I could make some hot chocolate for all of us. Then, if you’d like, you could leave your bicycles here. I’d be glad to drive you home.” From the expression on Honey’s face, Trixie could tell that she was thinking of that long, dark ride back through the woods.
“What a perfect idea!” Honey exclaimed. “Let’s, Trixie! Jim could drive back here early tomorrow morning, before the bazaar, to pick up the bikes in the station wagon.”
Trixie grinned.
“How can I refuse?” she told them all. “And thank you; the hot chocolate sounds delicious.” The two girls made their telephone calls and received permission to stay a little longer.
“As long as you’re sure,” Trixie’s mother added, “that Mrs. Crandall won’t mind bringing you home.”
“I’m sure, Moms,” Trixie answered. “And say, before you go, how did Mart and Reddy get along with the lessons?”
“Not well, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Belden said, chuckling. “I think that Reddy taught Mart, instead of the other way around. As far as I can see, that dog delights in doing exactly the opposite of what he’s told.”
When Trixie hung up, Rose Crandall and her sister hurried to the kitchen. Soon Trixie and Honey could
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