The characters belong to Golden Books and much of the original book is duplicated here.  This story uses elements of the Jixemitri CWP #1 and was written for my acceptance into Jixemitri.  Thanks to everyone who has read my stories and offered support and encouragement.  Thanks to Misty for suggesting I join Jix and to Cathy for her encouragement.

Finally, a weekend!  Another week of school was over!

Don’t get me wrong.  I like school, but I was finding it hard to concentrate this week.  Maybe it had something to do with all the work I knew was ahead of me this year.  Maybe it had something to do with the birthday card Honey gave me two days ago.

“So what are we up to this weekend?” Jim asked as I met him outside his locker.

“Are you kidding?” I raised an eyebrow.  “What aren’t we up to this weekend?  Working on the clubhouse, exercising the horses, homework.”

“Just checking we were on the same wavelength,” Jim replied with a grin.

I grinned back.  “So how are you enjoying Sleepyside High?”

“Great!” Jim cried and we headed outside.  “The teachers are good, the classes are interesting and I have a great study partner.”

“That’s if Trixie hasn’t got him tied up every spare minute tutoring her,” Mart put in as he joined us.

“Maybe Jim can help her instead,” I suggested with a sideways glance at Jim and he flushed.

“Yeah, maybe she won’t yell at you when she can’t understand what you’re explaining,” Mart added.

“It would help if you actually spoke to her in English Mart,” I remarked dryly.

“I speak English,” he protested.  “Is it my fault if she doesn’t understand the language of geniuses?”

“It is when you don’t understand it yourself,” I told him and then caught sight of Honey and Trixie.  I immediately changed direction and headed towards them.

Her head was bent towards Trixie, her face serious and concerned.  Every time I saw her, she surprised me.  Was it possible that she got prettier every day?

I desperately tried to think of something to say to her besides “hello”.  Why is it so hard to talk to girls?  What is it about them that chases every bit of common sense out of your head?

However, it was Mart that broke the ice.  I should have known better than to wind him up about Trixie.  But I did manage to get a smile in at Honey, which she returned.

"Do my old eyes deceive me? Is that a notebook which you have crammed so unattractively into your skirt pocket? Am I to deduce from this evidence that you plan to spend a small portion of the forthcoming week end in the pursuit of knowledge?"

Trixie gave him a sour look. "The answer to your simple question is yes. We have to write a theme for our English class!"

Mart made a tent of his hands and rocked back and forth on his heels as though he were a lecturer on a plat­form. "And what, pray tell, is to be the theme of your theme?"

"None of your business," Trixie said.

"So?" Mart elevated his sandy eyebrows. "I was about to offer my services, for a small fee, a dollar to be exact. With my superior knowledge of all the subjects, my extensive vocabulary and—"

"We know, we know," Trixie interrupted. "We also know why you wear your hair in that funny-looking crew-cut. Your little brain would collapse under the weight of a normal amount of hair."

"Children, children," I said, grinning. "Must you quarrel from morning to night? It does get a bit dull after awhile."

I looked over to see if Honey was hanging on my every word, but she suddenly Honey reached out her hand and, tucking it in the crook of Diana Lynch’s arm, drew her into the group. "I was just thinking, Di," she said impulsively, "that it would be wonderful if you could spend the week end with me and Jim. Here comes the bus now, but there's plenty of time for you to go back into the school and telephone your mother. You won't need any clothes. We're just about the same size, and I have loads of jeans and all kinds of T-shirts and sweaters."

Diana Lynch.  She used to be a childhood friend of Trixie’s and I happened to know Mart had harboured a secret crush for Di ever since he ate too much at one of Trixie’s grade school birthday parties and thrown up on Di’s shoes.  She hadn’t squealed or yelled at him.  She just smiled at him and asked him if he was okay.  Mart had turned bright red and run off without a word.

Di was pretty and she knew it.  I guess there’s nothing wrong with that.  She was so pretty that even the guys in my year noticed her and she was still in junior high.  But I like a girl I can have a conversation with – that’s if I can get the words out.

Di stared at Honey for a moment without speaking. Then she blurted: "I don't believe it, Honey Wheeler. I don't believe you ever wear sloppy clothes. I'll bet you don't even own a pair of jeans."

"But I do," Honey said, smiling. "We all live in sloppy clothes after school and on week ends. I didn't used to own any, but last summer when I met Trixie, Miss Trask got me some so we could dress alike and have fun all the time. Miss Trask is my governess, you know."

"Your governess?" Di shook her head. "That's one thing I've been lucky enough to escape so far. How do you stand it?"

"Miss Trask isn't really a governess," Trixie put in hastily. "She runs the Wheeler place the way your butler does your place, Di. And she's a grand person. We all love her."

Di sniffed. "I can imagine! The way I love our butler. The stupid old thing! I can't even ask a few friends home for cookies and milk after school without Harrison hovering around with silver trays and fancy lace doilies. I hate him."

I frowned and looked over at Mart and Jim.  Jim also looked confused, but I doubt Mart was listening to a word Di said.  All he could do was gape at her.

"Well, never mind," Honey said soothingly. "I know how you feel. We used to have, butlers, too, and they were an awful bore. But now they're gone and we have Miss Trask and Regan—"

"Who's Regan?" Di asked, and then she flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, I know I'm being nosy, and I haven't meant to eavesdrop, but I can't help hearing you kids talk on the bus. You're always shouting back and forth to each other across the aisle and I've heard you mention Regan so many times."

"He's our groom," Honey said. "We have five horses, you see, but Regan does a lot more than just take care of them. He and Miss Trask run the whole place together. I mean, the other servants take orders from them. We couldn't get along without Regan. Could we, Jim?"

Jim shook his head. "Make it snappy, Di. The bus will be leaving in a few minutes. Honey and I sure would like to have you spend the week end with us. You've got just about time to telephone your mother."

Di hesitated; then she raced off.

"Oh," Trixie said in relief. "I'm awfully glad she's going to come. I thought for a minute that she was going to say no."

Jim nodded. "She seemed pretty doubtful about the whole thing. It looked like you could use a little extra help to convince her."

"Thanks, Jim," Honey said. "It was very thoughtful of you to invite her, too. You've all got to help me see to it that she has a good time this week end. Di's awfully un­happy."

"She sounded pretty grim," Mart agreed.

As if he was listening!  All he could do was look.  I rolled my eyes and followed him onto the bus.

Jim said to Honey, "Di is grim. She looked desperate to me. As though she were at the end of her tether. But of course, I hardly know her. Do you know what's wrong with her, Trix?"

"I don't know," Trixie said. "She didn't used to be tense and grim."

"Well," Jim said, "I think we ought to try and find out what's making her so miserable. If for no other reason than that the motto of our club is to have a brotherly and sisterly attitude toward other kids who may need help." He climbed into the bus.

“You sure know how to get brownie points,” I remarked as he sat down next to me.

“What do you mean?  I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“I know, I’m just teasing you,” I smiled.  “It’s just that you can do no wrong as far as Trixie’s concerned.”

“Really?” Jim muttered and he glanced out at Trixie and Honey, who were still waiting for Di.

I followed his gaze.  Di ran up to Honey and Trixie, smiling.  The three girls hurried on to the bus and settled into their seats just as the bus took off.

It occurred to me as I looked over at the three girls sitting together that there were now six of us.  Three girls and three guys.  Maybe now I wouldn’t have to compete with Mart for Honey’s attention.

The bus lumbered to a stop at our driveway and the three of us got off.

"I can't figure Di Lynch out," Trixie began and I stifled a retort and quickened my pace.  I had to get my chores done before Mart and I headed over to the clubhouse to work on the roof with Jim.

“Hi Moms,” I called out as I hurried inside. 

I was immediately hit by the overwhelming aroma of tomatoes.  It was canning season at Crabapple Farm.

“Hi Brian,” she replied with a tired smile.  “How was school?”

“Great,” I answered.  “I’ll just wash up and I’ll be down to help you.”

“God bless eldest sons,” I heard her murmur as I headed up the stairs.

By the time I got down to the kitchen, Mart was inside helping himself to cookies.

“What can we do?” I asked Moms.

Mart frowned.  “I thought we –”

“We are going to help Jim,” I said quickly.  “But I think Moms needs a hand here first.”

“Thanks Brian,” Moms smiled gratefully.  “Mart can you get Bobby his juice, he’ll be in in a minute and check the chickens.  Brian if you can just wash and sterilize the last of these jars for me, that will be a great help and then you’re both free to go and help Jim.”

“Consider it done Moms,” Mart assured and shoved another cookie in his mouth before heading towards the refrigerator.

Trixie came through.  “Hi Moms!”

“Bobby’s out on the terrace,” Trixie told Mart, who had the orange juice in his hand.  “He’s going to help me clean out the garage.”

I winced.  I knew I was forgetting something.

“I told Mart and Brian that I’d do their share since they promised to help Jim,” Trixie added quickly.

“That’s very nice of you,” Moms told her.  “Make sure you do a good job or you’ll all be in there tomorrow until your father’s satisfied that it’s no longer a fire risk.”

“Sure Moms,” Trixie replied and ran upstairs to change.

“What do you think the chances are that we’ll spend tomorrow cleaning out the garage?” Mart sighed.

“If you get a move on and check the chickens, we may not have to help Jim as much tomorrow and it won’t matter,” I growled at him as I began to sterilize the jars.

“Okay, okay,” Mart cried and raced upstairs to change.  I caught Moms shaking her head out of the corner of my eye.

“What?” I cried.

“You look and sound more like your father every day,” she smiled in explanation.

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s wonderful,” Moms replied.  “I extremely lucky to have such wonderful children and I really appreciate your help Brian.”

I flushed.  “Thanks Moms.” 

“Now finish up here and hurry off to meet Jim,” she said quickly.  “Whatever you’re helping him with seems important.”

I put the last of the jars in to sterilize, dried my hands and quickly planted a kiss on Moms’ cheek.

“Mart!” I yelled up the stairs.  “I’m off to meet Jim.  I’ll see you there.”

I could have waited for Mart, but I just wanted five minutes to myself.  I also wanted to talk to Jim, just the two us.  He was a great guy and we had lots in common, not to mention the fact that we both had a thing for each other’s sister.  We sort of had an unspoken agreement that we would tell each other what our sibling had said about the interested party.  It was also an unspoken agreement that we didn’t talk about it in front of Mart.

I reached the porch of Manor House where I was supposed to meet Jim.  He wasn’t there yet, so I sat down and waited, kinda hoping that Honey would come out.

I heard a female voice from somewhere inside and my ears strained to listen.  Maybe it was Honey!

However, after several moments it became obvious that the voice didn’t belong to Honey.

“No, please…” the voice pleaded.  “You don’t have to, Honey said…”

She began to sob and I hesitated not knowing what to do.

“Please don’t.  Oh, please don’t!”  She begged.

I heard the phone slam down.  "Oh, I hate him!  I hate him!"

What was going on?

Suddenly her sobs stopped and I heard footsteps.

“Hey there.”

“Hey Jim!” I replied quickly and got up.  We started down the hill towards the clubhouse.

“What’s up?”

“Was that Di on the phone then?”

“I don’t know, why?”

I hesitated.  “I thought I heard someone.  It doesn’t matter.”

“Honey and I were talking before,” Jim began slowly.  “She thinks Di’s lonely and really needs some friends.  How would you feel about asking Di to join the Bob-Whites?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I replied without hesitation.  “I know Mart and Trixie would agree.”

“Do you think so?” Jim asked. 

“Sure,” I told him.  “Mart’s had a thing for Di since grade school.”

“Really?” Jim laughed and then turned to me with a smile.   “You’ll never guess what I saw the other day.”

“What?” I demanded, knowing that he was about to share something concerning Honey.

“Well…” Jim drawled, knowing I was hanging on his every word.  “Honey dropped one of her note books yesterday as she was going up the stairs.  I stopped and picked it up for her and as I did it fell open.  She’d been doodling and guess what she’d written all over the page?”

“Tell me!”  I almost yelled.

“She’d written…  Mart!” 

I froze, my heart sinking.  She liked him?

“What took you so long?” Mart called. 

Relief rushed through me.  She hadn’t written Mart’s name in her notebook.  Or had she?  I looked over at Jim.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jim assured me quickly and I let out a frustrated sigh.

Even without trying Mart was managing to thwart my relationship with Honey at every turn.  When was I going to get a chance to get Jim alone again so he could tell me what she had written?

At five o’clock, we decided to call it quits and head up to the stables to exercise the horses.  Di and Honey were waiting for us. 

“How’s the roof looking?” Honey asked us, but I’m sure she was looking at me.

“We’re getting there,” I answered with a smile.

“We’d be almost finished if they let me on the roof to secure the shingles,” Mart boasted for Di’s benefit.

“You’re forgetting that the only time we let you on the roof you almost fell off and took all of the shingles with you,” I reminded him quickly.

Di’s eyes widened as she and Honey giggled.  Mart reddened and threw me an angry glare.

“Who’s riding who?” Jim asked quickly, sensing an argument was about to start.

“Well, I thought Di should ride Lady so I might ride Strawberry,” Honey began.

“Then who am I going to ride?” Mart interrupted her.  “There’s only five horses and there’s six of us."

“I don’t have to ride,” Honey said quickly.  “I’ve got some things I need to do here.”

“I’ll stay and help Honey,” Di added.

“You’re our guest Di, of course you should ride,” Jim said firmly.  “I’ll stay here and get started on my chores.  Brian can ride Jupe.”

My eyes lit up.  I’d seldom been allowed to ride Jupe and I cherished the opportunity to ride him again, especially in Honey’s company.

Then Trixie arrived.  “What’s going on?”

"Please, Jim," Honey said. "I'd really rather stay home. Miss Trask may have some things she would like me to do before dinner—"

"I don't feel much like riding," Trixie cried impulsively. "I'm half dead from cleaning out the garage. You ride Susie, Di."

Diana shook her head. "I don't know how to ride. All of you please go. I don't mind being left behind. Besides, I want to be here when my suitcase comes, so—"

As she hesitated, flushing, Honey said quickly, "I don't want to ride either. Lady doesn't need any exercise. Mother rode her this morning."

"Dad rode Jupe before breakfast, too," Jim added.

In the end, it was Regan who settled the argument. "Well," he said, "the other horses do need exercise. So you Beldens had better get going before it gets so dark even the horses won't be able to see."

Without a word, we quickly obeyed. Regan was usually very easygoing, but when he spoke in that tone of voice he meant business. We trotted off single file along the narrow path that led into the woods with Trixie in the lead.

"Dad knows about the clubhouse. He calls it a shack, and I don't think he knows where it is, but we've got to move a lot of our stuff that's cluttering up the garage into it. The garage just won't hold it all anymore."

"Oh, no," Mart moaned. "Why, just your junk alone Trix, would take up so much room we couldn't hold a meeting."

"Is that so?" Trixie demanded. "What about your pup tent and those rusty old traps?"

"I use that pup tent every summer, and those traps are just as good as they ever were. If anything has to go it ought to be your—"

"Dad's right," I interrupted. "Now that I've got my driver's license, I can pack our junk in the station wagon and move it down to the clubhouse in one trip. It'l1 be handy to have the sleds, skis, and ice skates there. We've always done most of our winter sports at the Manor House anyway."

"True," Mart agreed. "If it doesn't rain this week end we can finish the roof."

"And we'll move everything down there first thing. There'll be plenty of room."

Riding abreast now, we cantered across a field and then stopped to give the horses a rest.

"I can't stop thinking about Di and her suitcase," Trixie said. "Why is she so tense about it?"

"That I don't know," Mart said. "I can't even hazard a guess. But you're right about one thing, Sis. She is very unhappy."

"I wish we could ask her to become a member of our club," Trixie said.

"I'm glad you said that." I smiled. "That's the way Honey and Jim feel and that's the way I feel, too. Is it okay by you, Mart?"

"Natch," Mart said. "Boy! Let's think up something terrific in the way of initiation. How about making her walk the ridgepole of the clubhouse roof? Or we could make her sleep out in the woods alone all night. Or maybe—"

"Now, wait a minute," Trixie interrupted.

"Nothing like that," I said soberly. "She's so jumpy now I think we Bob-Whites ought to skip initiation in her case.”

“What makes you think she's jumpy?" Trixie asked. "Did she do anything peculiar while I was cleaning the garage?"

"Yes and no," I said. "After helping Moms, I changed my clothes and went straight up to the Wheelers'. Jim was still up in his room, so I waited for him on the porch. Di was talking to someone on the phone in the study. I tried not to listen, but I couldn't help it. She was crying and saying over and over again, 'Oh, please don't. Please don't.'"

"Well, for pete's sake!" Mart exclaimed. "What do you suppose that was all about? Didn't she try to explain?"

"She didn't see me. I stayed out on the porch, and a minute later Jim came downstairs. I guess Di went up to her room."

Trixie sighed. "She must have been talking to her mother about the suitcase. I can't see why she cares whether it arrives or not. Why should it make so much difference to her?"

“Maybe her mother was angry with her about some thing," Mart suggested.

"I don't think she was talking to her mother," I said slowly. "Because when she hung up I heard her say to herself, 'Oh, I hate him. I hate him!'"

"Hate him?" Trixie repeated in amazement. "Why, who, I mean whom, could she have been talking to? Gleeps!  Who could Di hate?"

"Her father, maybe?" I asked.

"Oh, no," Trixie cried. "Mr. Lynch is one of the kindest men who ever lived. He's big and fat in a jolly way, and so generous everyone who knows him loves him. Mrs. Lynch is darling, too. She used to be awfully jolly. The last time I saw her she was—" Trixie stopped.

"Was what?" Mart demanded.

"Kind of formal," Trixie told him. "Di invited me for lunch right after they bought that big place, and dopey me, I thought things would be just the same. So I appeared in jeans and—"

“-looking the way you do now," Mart finished, “as though you had just finished cleaning a garage. You probably scared the Lynches' servants. I hear they have a flock of 'em."

"Oh, stop it," Trixie cried. "I don't clean the garage every day."

"No," Mart admitted. "To my certain knowledge, you've never cleaned the garage before in your life. And, I gather, since Dad laid down the law about our junk, it's not what you'd call pristine right now."

"Let's stick to the subject," I said, giving Mart a light punch on the arm. "Go on, Trix. What happened at the luncheon?"

"Well," Trixie began, "it was a very elaborate luncheon, complete with the butler and a maid. Just for us three—me and Di and her mother. The twins eat in their big nursery which is in a separate wing of the house. The food was yummy but, frankly, I felt so uncomfortable I didn't enjoy it much. I guess Di knew how I felt because she never in­vited me again."

"Tactful you," Mart said in disgust.

"I couldn't help it," Trixie said forlornly. "I kept thinking how much more fun I would have had if I'd stayed home and eaten Moms's sandwiches and cookies."

I remember Mart had been more disappointed about the demise of Trixie and Di’s friendship than Trixie had.  For months he asked Trixie why Di never came to visit any more and eventually he stopped asking.

"It's getting dark," I said. "We'd better remount now and start back."

We trotted along in silence for a while, and I thought about what Trixie had said.

"It's funny, Trix. The Wheelers have pretty elaborate meals, with Celia serving in her black taffeta uniform and white apron and cap. But you never seem to feel uncomfortable at their place."

"I know," Trixie said. "I can't quite explain the difference. The Wheelers are informally formal. You know that having a lot of servants doesn't mean anything more to them than having a roof over their heads. But, Mrs. Lynch, well, I got the impression that she was scared of the butler. Harrison is awfully prim and proper. Oh," she interrupted herself, "maybe it was Harrison Di was talking about when she said, 'I hate him. I hate him.'"

"I doubt that," I said. "She may not like the butler, but I doubt if she'd cry when she talked to him over the phone."

"I've got an idea," Trixie said. "Why don't you boys go to the movies after dinner? If Di's alone with Honey and me she may tell us what's bothering her."

“That is an idea, Trixie," Mart said, and I nodded in agreement.

When we reached the stable, we groomed the horses and hurried indoors to take showers.

“So have you still got a thing for Di?” I asked casually as we dressed for dinner.

“What do you mean?” Mart reddened.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“You just want to know if the coast is clear for you and Honey,” Mart accused.

“Come on Mart,” I said quickly.  “You know you’ve been keen on her ever since you threw up on her shoes.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” he groaned.  “I’ll kill you if you bring that up in front of her.”

I smiled but promised nothing.  That information could come in handy if he ever tried to show me up in front of Honey again.

“You guys almost done?” Jim asked, sticking his head into his bedroom.

“We’re done,” Mart told him.  “Brian was trying to make himself look handsome.  Of course, no amount of trying…  OUCH!”

I silenced him with an elbow to the ribs.  “Trixie thought it might be a good idea if us guys head off to the movies tonight and leave the girls to talk.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jim remarked.  “Can you drive?”

“I’m not allowed to after dark,” I admitted.  “Do you think Tom could drive us?”

“We’ll ask.  Let’s get down to dinner, I’m starving.”

“You’re starving?” Mart cried.  “I could eat a horse.”

We left Jim’s room, meeting Honey, Di and Trixie in the hall.  Honey had Di’s arm in hers and, for a brief moment, I envied Di.  God!  You’ve really gotta snap out of this Brian.  You’ve never thought this much about a girl your entire life.

We trooped down to the dining room  and joined Miss Trask for dinner. Everyone joked and laughed a lot throughout the meal, except Di who hardly said a word. When Celia, the Wheeler’s maid, brought in the dessert, Jim said to Miss Trask, "We menfolk plan to go to the movies, but since Brian isn't allowed to drive after dark, may we ask Tom to drive us in and back?" Tom Delanoy was the Wheelers' handsome young chauffeur.

"You'll have to ask Tom about that," Miss Trask told Jim. "It's his night off."

'I can answer for him, ma'am," Celia said, blushing furiously than ever. "He'll be glad to do it. He can bring  the boys home when he brings me back. Cook, too, if you like. But we'll-he'll need the station wagon."

“Fine.” Miss Trask nodded.

When Celia went back into the kitchen, Jim said, grinning, "Tom is henpecked already. The top of Celia's head just about reaches his chin, but she's certainly going to be the boss of that family."

"That's what happens to he-men when they fall in love," Mart said, shaking his head with disapproval. "In the words of Kipling, ‘The female of the species is more deadly than the male.'"

"Is that so?" Trixie demanded.

"Yes, it is so," Mart informed her airily. "Take the black widow spider—"

"Let's not and say we did," Honey interrupted with a shiver. "Which reminds me, it's Halloween next Friday. Don't you think we ought to have a party here, Miss Trask?"

Miss Trask shook her head. "I'm sorry, dear. Have you forgotten? Your mother is giving a dinner party that night."

"Gleeps!  I know," Trixie said. "Moms and Dad are invited. So let's have the party at our house. It'll still be Indian summer, so it'll be warm enough so we can roast franks on our outdoor grill. So—"

"So, so, so-so," Mart interrupted. "How you love that word, Sis, when it isn't spelled s-e-w."

"Don't," Di cried suddenly. "Please don't."

"What?" Trixie asked in amazement.

"Don't give a party at your house." Di's cheeks were flaming and her violet eyes were filmed with tears. "You just can't give a party at your house. Mother would never forgive me."

"But I don't understand," Trixie said. "We planned to invite you, Di, if that's what you mean."

"That isn't what I mean." Di's voice was high-pitched. "You don't understand, Trixie Belden, because your house isn't all cluttered up with servants. When you give a party, you and your brothers do the planning and you do all the cooking, too."

"Natch," Mart said easily. "Who else?"

For answer, Di jumped up and ran out of the dining room.

"How do you like that?" Mart asked, bewildered. "What did I say to make her mad?"

Jim coughed. "I think it's about time we menfolk de­parted."

“You’re all excused," Miss Trask said, pushing back her chair.

Honey and Trixie raced upstairs to Di's room and we were left staring after them.

“What did I say?” Mart mumbled. 

“You’ve gotta stop shooting your mouth off in front of her,” I told him.  “She’s really high strung at the moment.”

“I’m not sure if what Mart said had anything to do with why Di got upset,” Jim said slowly.  “But whatever’s going on, Honey and Trixie will get to the bottom of it.  Let’s go and find Tom.”

“Ahem…  well I’m glad we didn’t take the girls to see that movie,” Jim muttered as we walked out with the crowd, our faces quite red.

“Let’s just hope our parents don’t ask how it was and decide to go and see themselves,” I added.

“Could you believe it?”  Mart cried.  “They were practically having sex in that park!”

“We were there Mart,” I told him sharply.  “There’s no need to rehash it.”

“Let’s discuss Di’s initiation while we’re waiting for Tom,” Jim changed the subject quickly.  “What should we get her to do?”

“Make her sit through that movie!” Mart joked but fell silent when I glared at him.

“Aw… I was only kidding,” he muttered.

“Well, I think all the normal initiation things are out,” I began.  “Although, maybe we could get her to paint the clubhouse or something.”

“Di!  Paint!”  Mart cried with laughter.  “I don’t think so, but nice try.  What about making her cook a six course meal for all of us?”

“For you alone that would be a feat,” Jim smiled.  “But you’re on the right track.  It has to be something she can do that won’t upset her.”

“It’s pretty hard to know what will and won’t upset her at the moment,” I replied slowly.  “Why don’t we all sleep on it and try and work something out tomorrow.”

“That’s an idea,” Jim agreed.  “Are we working on the clubhouse again tomorrow?”

“Not us,” Mart groaned.  “At least not in the morning.  We’ve got to clean out the junk from the garage and cart some of our sports equipment down to the clubhouse.”

“We used to use most of it on your estate anyway,” I explained to Jim.  “It actually makes sense to keep it there.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Jim remarked.  “So you should be free to work on the roof in the afternoon?”

“Should be,” I replied.  “Oh, here comes Tom.”

The Wheeler stationwagon pulled up to the curb, Tom at the wheel and Celia and Cook in the passenger seat.  We scrambled into the back seat.

“How was the movie?” Tom asked.  “I was planning to take Celia to see it on my next night off.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bother Tom,” Jim told him.  “It was really quite boring.”

The three of us exchanged a glance and it was all we could do to stop ourselves from laughing all the way home.

Mart and I slipped quietly into the house.  Moms and Dad had left the light on in the kitchen for us.

“Do you think it’s too late for a snack?” Mart asked me.

“Moms will kill you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mart replied mournfully and we moved quietly up the stairs.

“See you in the morning,” I whispered.  “Let’s try and get an early start.”

Mart nodded and slipped into his bedroom.  I went straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth and then headed to bed.

I turned on the light on my nightstand.  I sat on the edge of my bed, opened a drawer and reached in to find the card I had hidden at the back.

I fingered it carefully and opened it to read the inscription, even though the words had burnt into my mind.

Brian

Wishing you a very happy birthday.  I hope it’s wonderful.

I’m glad to be able to share it with you.

Love Honey.

I liked the way she wrote my name, and she signed it 'love'.  Did she really feel that way about me?

Gosh!  I forgot to ask Jim what Honey had been writing in her notebook.  Is it possible?  Could she have been writing about me? 

I stroked the card gently and reluctantly put it back in its hiding place.  I undressed, turned out the light and climbed into bed.

I closed my eyes, but she was still all I could see.  And I was beginning to realize that she was all I wanted to see.

“I’m going to holp you,” Bobby announced to Mart and I.

“That’s mighty nice of you,” I began, putting down the pup tent I was holding.  “Moms said you did a great job holping Trixie yesterday.”

“I founded this,” Bobby cried and grabbed hold of a pogo stick that was stacked neatly under some other equipment.  The stack came tumbling down and Bobby’s eyes widened in surprise.

“That used to be mine,” Mart said hastily, taking Bobby by the shoulders and steering him out of the garage.  “Why don’t you practice using it on the grass?”

“Okay!”  Bobby cried.  “C’mon Reddy.”

Reddy barked and galloped after him.

“Good thinking,” I told him as I began re-stacking the equipment.  “That should keep him busy for at least ten minutes.”

“Hey!  Was this yours or mine?”  Mart cried, holding up a fuzzy blue stuffed animal.

“Is it Grover or the Cookie Monster?” I asked, glancing over at him.

“I think it’s Grover,” Mart answered, staring at it.  “It must be mine.”

“No, it’s mine,” I told him.  “You had the Cookie Monster because it ate cookies like you.”

“Now I remember,” Mart laughed.  “How did the song go?  ‘C is for cookie and that’s good enough for me!  Hey!’”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Mart half-danced on the spot, swinging Grover in his hands, and singing off-key.  I wasn’t the only one who found it amusing.  I turned around to find Moms and Dad shaking with silent laughter. 

“Our son, the entertainer,” Dad cried finally.  “I think you’ve missing your called Mart.”

Mart froze, red-faced, and threw Grover down quickly.

“Hey, watch that,” I told him.  “That’s a family heirloom.”

“You’ve done a wonderful job,” Moms said, looking around.  “Are you taking all this stuff to your shack by the lake?”

“Yep,” Mart answered.  “We’re almost done.  We’ve just got to load it into the station wagon and then unpack it.”

“I’d like to give your mother the afternoon off and take her for a drive,” Dad said.  “Would you boys mind looking after Bobby until dinner time?”

Mart frowned and looked over at me.  “Sure, Dad,” I answered quickly.  “We’ll keep him amused.”

“Thanks boys,” Moms smiled.  “I hate to interfere with your weekend, but if I see another tomato I’m going to scream.  I’ve made you a picnic basket and maybe you can have lunch by the lake.”

“Is there pie?” Mart asked eagerly.

“A whole pie,” Moms assured him.

“Thanks Moms,” I told her.  “You guys have a great afternoon and we’ll take care of everything here.”

They waved goodbye, kissed Bobby then left in Dad’s sedan.

“Great,” Mart moaned and looked at me.  “What are we going to do with Bobby?  We’re supposed to work on the clubhouse this afternoon.”

“We’ll just have to find someone to look after him,” I sighed and then snapped my fingers.  “I’ve got it!  We can get Di to look after him.  That can be her initiation!”

“Brilliant!” Mart cried.  “She’s got two brothers about Bobby’s age.  It will be a snap for her.”

“Then let’s get this stuff loaded in the car and get to down to the clubhouse,” I told him.  “Don’t forget the picnic basket.”

“As if.”

“Saturday in the park, I think it was the Fourth of July
Saturday in the park, I think it was the Fourth of July
People talkin', really smilin'
A man playing guitar A man, a song, playin' a song, they all
And singin' for a song Singin' for a song
Will you help him change the world
Can you dig it Yes I can
And I've been waiting such a long time
For today.”

Mart and I sang along with the radio as we carried the equipment from the car into the clubhouse’s storage room. 

“We really gotta get round to painting in here one day,” Mart said as he surveyed the inside of the clubhouse.

“Sure, add it to the list,” I told him.  “What color?”

“Bright yellow,” Mart replied.  “It will really lighten the place up.”

“I like lellow,” Bobby said in a sing-song voice.  “And labender and norange and…”

“Bobby, why don’t you go and check if we left anything in the car?” I asked him to give us a moment’s peace.

He ran outside.  “Here comes Honey and Trixie and Jim and another girl!”

Mart and I went outside to meet them.

“Hey!”  He called to them.  “I’m holping Brian and Mart!”

Trixie put her thumbs in her ears, waggled her fingers, crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue. "Gleeps!  Do we have to have you-know-who here in our clubhouse?" she asked Mart sourly.  “I’m surprised Reddy didn’t come with you too.”

"Whom," Mart corrected her. "And we do, unless you want to go home and play in the sandpile with whom." He moved closer and peered intently at Trixie's face. "Some day your eyes are going to stay crossed, Sis. And your thumbs will stay in your ears and your tongue will be per­manently stuck out. But I wouldn't worry if I were you, Sis.  Somehow you look better that way. And think of the money you'll save. You won't need a mask for Halloween.  Not that you really do anyway, with the funny face you were born with!"

“Oh, is that so?" Trixie demanded. "Have you forgotten that we're supposed to look exactly alike except for that weird haircut of yours? And in case you're interested, I do not have to stay home and play with you-know-whom today. Moms said that after I did the dishes and the dusting I could have the rest of the day off. She canned the last of the tomatoes yesterday, so—"

"True," Mart interrupted, "but because of which, our paternal parent feels that our maternal parent needs a vacation." Holding his thumb and index ringer to one eye in the form of a monocle, he said with a very pronounced British accent, "The pater and mater have gone off on a motaw trip, old thing. Thus we are saddled with the young­er generation until evening, or at least until late after­noon."

"We!" Trixie sniffed. "You mean you and Brian are. And, in case you're interested, you've ruined everything. How can we initiate Di with Bob—I mean, you know whom in our hair?"

"In case you're interested," Mart said airily, "that is what the initiation ceremony is going to consist of. We thought of blindfolding her and making her walk a plank into the lake. We even went so far, in our fiendish way, of planning that she should pound her thumbs to a pulp while we supervised her as she finished shingling the roof.  Then it came to us. What better opportunity could she have of proving that she is worthy of being a member of the brotherly and sisterly secret society, known as the B.W.G.'s, than by coping all the rest of the day, alone and unassisted, with the devil incarnate in the form of young Robert Bel­den, Esq.?"

Trixie, convulsed with laughter, collapsed on the sled I had just brought in. Jim, Mart and I joined in the laughter. Honey smiled rather nervously, but Di stood at the entrance to the cottage looking completely bewil­dered. She looked from Trixie to us to Honey and back to Trixie again.

"I—I don't understand what you're talking about," she said after a while. "I know you can't join any secret club without being initiated in one way or another, but what will I—“

Honey threw one arm around Di's shoulder. "It couldn't be simpler, Di," she said. "All you have to do is keep Bobby amused, and he's really a little angel in spite of what Mart said.  He can sail boats in the wading pool up near the house, and Regan will give him a riding lesson on Lady, then it'll be time to clean up for lunch, and then after lunch he has a long nap—”

"Not forgetting the comics," Trixie interrupted. "He suffers from insomnia in the daytime, Di, which means have to read Peter Rabbit to him over and over again A as for Regan and the riding lesson, how do you know Regan hasn't already quit?"

"Regan—quit?" Mart and I almost shouted in one quick breath.

“Di’s uncle is here,” Trixie explained.  “According to Di, he likes to think he knows everything about everything and spouts his opinions whether people want to here them or not. He’s with Regan now.  Di’s afraid that he’ll get Regan mad by putting down the horses and criticizing the stables.”

"Of course," she finished, "we're not absolutely certain that Mr. Wilson will insult Regan. But if he says anything at all that gets Regan's goat — well, I guess I don't have to tell you what will happen." She shrugged.

"Please don't go into the ghastly details," Mart moaned. "If Regan quits, it's the end of everything." He turned to Honey. "If that happened, your dad would get rid of the horses, wouldn't he?"

Honey was nervously clasping and unclasping her slim hands. "Oh, I don't know what Daddy would do. He and Regan both have red hair, you know, and the quick tem­pers that go with it. Although Daddy thinks the world of Regan, I don't think he'd exactly get down on his hands and knees and beg him to stay if Regan decided to quit and started to leave in a huff."

Jim nodded in full agreement. "And we all know that we'd never find another groom who would put up with us kids. But," he added, "we're probably making a mountain out of a molehill. In spite of what you blondes and brunettes think, redheaded people don't fly off the handle all the time. Take me, for instance." He grinned. "Why, I'm just about the sweetest-tempered boy in the whole wide world!"

"Is that so?" Trixie demanded with a sniff. "How about that time last summer when you jumped down my throat simply because I implied that you were not telling the truth?"

Their eyes met and you could almost see the sparks begin to fly.

"You know I was telling the truth that time, Trix," Jim insisted, starting to get angry.

"Sweet-tempered Jim," Trixie chanted and everyone laughed, including Jim.

Trixie smiled at him and he grinned back at her.  All was forgiven.

"Don't mind us, Jim," Honey said at last, "we're just trying to tease you. Besides, we've got another temper to worry about right now. Do you think there's a chance Uncle Monty won't say anything insulting to Regan?” Honey asked Di.

"You don't know Uncle Monty," Diana answered.  "He’s sure to insult Regan somehow. He's one of those people who knows all the answers. Why, last night he told Dad that our house slowly but surely was being eaten alive by termites.”

I laughed without smiling, perhaps this was the man she hated. "Is it possible, Di," I asked, "that your uncle is prone to exaggeration?"

"It's worse than that," Diana said, gulping. "He's a liar, that's what he is. Uncle Monty lies all the time. I know it. I know it!"

"Oh, Di," Honey cried. "You mustn't talk that way about your mother's own brother. A lot of people exaggerate. Trixie and I do all the time, but it doesn't mean that we're liars."

"Uncle Monty is, though," Diana insisted. "He told us that he made a lot of money but he lost it all because he's been sick for the past ten years. But if you could see him eat, you'd know that he's as healthy as an ox. I think he just pretends to be sick so he won't have to work, and that means he’ll live with us for the rest of his life. If you want my candied opinion-"

"The word is candid," Mart interrupted and I promptly silenced him by giving him a brotherly punch and said sternly:

"Keep your outsize vocabulary to yourself, bud. Go on, Di.”

But it was too late. Di wordlessly shook her head wheeled stiffly, then broke into a run. The Bob-Whites helplessly watched her as she raced across the lawn and up the steps to the big house.

End of Part One