Read Online The Mystery of the Phantom Grashopper by Julie Campbell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Julie Campbell
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“After the man asked me where Mr. Johnson s office was.”
“Wait a minute, now,” Jim ordered. He turned the station wagon onto the street and headed toward Crabapple Farm. “Okay, Trixie,” he said, “how about starting at the beginning?”
Trixie told about seeing the man come out of the second-floor room. “He said he was looking for Mr. Johnson s office, and I told him that Mr. Johnson was standing right outside the building,” she said. “There wasn’t any sign on the door where he came out, so I just sort of looked inside.”
“And?” Brian prompted.
“There wasn’t anything in the room except a ladder up to the ceiling,” Trixie said.
“And so you climbed it,” Mart deduced. “Real smart. If the only thing in the room had been an open window, would you have defenestrated yourself?”
“De-what-a-strated?” Trixie asked.
“I think he means jumped out,” Brian offered. “Oh,” Trixie said. “No, silly,” she told Mart. “I was just curious about where the ladder went, since that man had just come out of the room.”
“And the ladder went up to the belfry,” Jim said. “That’s right,” Trixie confirmed. “So, what was that man doing up there?”
“Elementary, my dear Beatrix,” Mart said. “Mr. Johnson said he had some papers for a roofing contractor. That was the contractor, up looking at the roof. Case closed.”
“Mart’s right,” Honey agreed.
“I’m not so sure,” Trixie muttered.
Brian glanced at his watch. “We wont have time for our meeting now,” he said gloomily. “But I guess it doesn’t matter. With Hoppy gone, there’s no reason to have a walk-a-thon. So we won’t be on the radio, after all.”
“At least for the time being,” Trixie said with forced cheerfulness. “We can all hope that Hoppy will be found soon. If he is found, he could be recoppered before they put him back up on top of Town Hall.”
“If he’s found,” Brian repeated as Jim pulled into the driveway at Crabapple Farm.
When Trixie, Brian, and Mart entered the kitchen, Bobby was singing “Meet me in St. Loooey, Looey” in a high, squeaky voice.
Brian and Mart were headed for the hall to hang up their jackets, and Trixie took hers off and handed it to Mart. “I’m sorry were late again, Moms,” she said.
“Meet me at the FAIRRR,” Bobby sang at the top of his lungs as he placed napkins at each place around the table.
“Who taught Bobby that old song?” Trixie asked. Mrs. Belden smiled wanly. “The radio,” she sighed. “WSTH has played it several times today. Someone has been calling in and requesting it.” She rubbed her forehead and frowned. “Regan wants Bobby to exercise Mr. Pony tomorrow,” she said, “and his school reopens the day after that thank goodness. I’ve had a headache all day.”
“You go and sit down, Moms,” Trixie urged, feeling more guilty than ever about being late. “I’ll finish getting dinner.” Trixie picked up a spoon and took over at the stove.
“Hi, Trixie!” Bobby said, waving a napkin at her. “I know nother old-fashioned song now. Want to hear me sing it?”
“I believe I heard you singing when I came in,” Trixie told him. Taking the silverware from the drawer, she handed it to her little brother. “Let’s see how quietly you can put these on the table, Bobby,” she whispered. “Moms has a headache.”
Bobby made a silent O with his lips. “Okay,” he whispered back. Tiptoeing to the table, he began his new task, very carefully placing each piece of silverware in its proper position.
Reddy began barking a minute later, and Bobby forgot to be quiet. “Here comes Dad!” he yelled. He and Reddy raced for the front door.
In spite of his avowed preference for hamburgers, Mart ate baked ham, scalloped potatoes, and buttered carrots with great enthusiasm. “It’s delicious, Moms,” he said. “Dinner fit for a despot.”
“It wasn’t cooked in a pot,” Bobby objected. “It was cooked in the
“Wait a minute, now,” Jim ordered. He turned the station wagon onto the street and headed toward Crabapple Farm. “Okay, Trixie,” he said, “how about starting at the beginning?”
Trixie told about seeing the man come out of the second-floor room. “He said he was looking for Mr. Johnson s office, and I told him that Mr. Johnson was standing right outside the building,” she said. “There wasn’t any sign on the door where he came out, so I just sort of looked inside.”
“And?” Brian prompted.
“There wasn’t anything in the room except a ladder up to the ceiling,” Trixie said.
“And so you climbed it,” Mart deduced. “Real smart. If the only thing in the room had been an open window, would you have defenestrated yourself?”
“De-what-a-strated?” Trixie asked.
“I think he means jumped out,” Brian offered. “Oh,” Trixie said. “No, silly,” she told Mart. “I was just curious about where the ladder went, since that man had just come out of the room.”
“And the ladder went up to the belfry,” Jim said. “That’s right,” Trixie confirmed. “So, what was that man doing up there?”
“Elementary, my dear Beatrix,” Mart said. “Mr. Johnson said he had some papers for a roofing contractor. That was the contractor, up looking at the roof. Case closed.”
“Mart’s right,” Honey agreed.
“I’m not so sure,” Trixie muttered.
Brian glanced at his watch. “We wont have time for our meeting now,” he said gloomily. “But I guess it doesn’t matter. With Hoppy gone, there’s no reason to have a walk-a-thon. So we won’t be on the radio, after all.”
“At least for the time being,” Trixie said with forced cheerfulness. “We can all hope that Hoppy will be found soon. If he is found, he could be recoppered before they put him back up on top of Town Hall.”
“If he’s found,” Brian repeated as Jim pulled into the driveway at Crabapple Farm.
When Trixie, Brian, and Mart entered the kitchen, Bobby was singing “Meet me in St. Loooey, Looey” in a high, squeaky voice.
Brian and Mart were headed for the hall to hang up their jackets, and Trixie took hers off and handed it to Mart. “I’m sorry were late again, Moms,” she said.
“Meet me at the FAIRRR,” Bobby sang at the top of his lungs as he placed napkins at each place around the table.
“Who taught Bobby that old song?” Trixie asked. Mrs. Belden smiled wanly. “The radio,” she sighed. “WSTH has played it several times today. Someone has been calling in and requesting it.” She rubbed her forehead and frowned. “Regan wants Bobby to exercise Mr. Pony tomorrow,” she said, “and his school reopens the day after that thank goodness. I’ve had a headache all day.”
“You go and sit down, Moms,” Trixie urged, feeling more guilty than ever about being late. “I’ll finish getting dinner.” Trixie picked up a spoon and took over at the stove.
“Hi, Trixie!” Bobby said, waving a napkin at her. “I know nother old-fashioned song now. Want to hear me sing it?”
“I believe I heard you singing when I came in,” Trixie told him. Taking the silverware from the drawer, she handed it to her little brother. “Let’s see how quietly you can put these on the table, Bobby,” she whispered. “Moms has a headache.”
Bobby made a silent O with his lips. “Okay,” he whispered back. Tiptoeing to the table, he began his new task, very carefully placing each piece of silverware in its proper position.
Reddy began barking a minute later, and Bobby forgot to be quiet. “Here comes Dad!” he yelled. He and Reddy raced for the front door.
In spite of his avowed preference for hamburgers, Mart ate baked ham, scalloped potatoes, and buttered carrots with great enthusiasm. “It’s delicious, Moms,” he said. “Dinner fit for a despot.”
“It wasn’t cooked in a pot,” Bobby objected. “It was cooked in the
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