“Why, Meg Plum’s mystery, of course,” answered Norah. “What else?”
Suddenly Annette’s whole manner changed. “If you don’t think I’m doing a good job, Norah, just say so!” She stabbed at a meatball with her fork.
The Aldens were surprised. They stared at Annette with their mouths open.
“Of course I think you’re doing a good job.” Norah looked shocked. “What’s gotten into you, Annette?”
“Well, for starters, I can’t work with a bunch of kids in the way.”
Benny put down his fork. “But we never get in the way.”
Mrs. McGregor was quick to agree. “The Aldens are very self-reliant.”
“Of course they are,” agreed Norah. “No reason for anyone to be upset.” But it was clear that Annette was upset.
“We’ll do our best to help,” Henry promised.
“Thank you, Henry,” said Norah.
Annette looked as if she wanted to argue. But she didn’t. She finished her dinner in silence, not looking too pleased. Then she excused herself and left the room.
Norah apologized for her assistant’s behavior. “Annette has many good qualities, but she can be a bit moody sometimes.”
When the Aldens were clearing the table, Henry let out a low whistle. “Annette sure doesn’t want us helping out,” he said.
Benny added, “She wasn’t very friendly.”
“I guess we’d better keep out of her way,” said Jessie, filling the sink with hot, soapy water. The children agreed.
After leaving the kitchen spic-and-span, the four Alden children hurried out to the front porch. Norah and Mrs. McGregor were sipping iced tea and chatting. Pam was bent over a jigsaw puzzle nearby. Annette was nowhere in sight.
The Aldens made themselves comfortable. Then Benny looked at Norah—was she ready to tell them about the mystery?
Norah was ready. She took a last sip of her iced tea, then placed the empty glass on the table beside her. In the soft glow of the porch light, with the crickets singing in the dark, she began telling them an odd tale.
“A long time ago, my great-great-grandfather, Jon Eton, decided to see a bit of the world. His travels took him to England, and to the little village of Stone Pool. That’s where he met and fell in love with the beautiful Meg Plum.”
“That’s why your house is purple, right?” put in Violet. “Because of Meg Plum, I mean.”
Norah looked surprised that Violet knew that. “Right you are, Violet,” she said.
“Meg left the village of Stone Pool behind to start a new life with Jon right here at Eton Place. But I’m afraid my great-great-grandmother didn’t have an easy time of it.”
Jessie looked questioningly at Norah. “You mean, she didn’t like it here?”
“Oh, she liked it well enough, Jessie. But she was terribly homesick. Apparently, she would sit for hours, just staring at a photograph of Stone Pool.” Norah shook her head sadly. “They say Jon often found his young wife in tears.”
“Poor Meg!” Violet was shy, and meeting new people often made her nervous. “Did Jon try to help her?”
“Yes, but I’ll tell you about that another time, Violet.” Norah was reaching for a photograph album from the table beside her. “Right now, I have something to show you. It just so happens Annette came across a photograph the other day.” She pointed at a page in the album. “Here it is—Meg’s photograph of the village of Stone Pool.”
Although it was cracked and badly faded with age, the photograph showed shoppers in old-fashioned clothes strolling along the walkways and in and out of the little stores. Benny pointed to the fancy script at the bottom of the photo.
“What does that say, Norah?” he wanted to know. The youngest Alden was just learning to read.
Norah put on her glasses and read the words aloud: “The village of Stone Pool as it appeared on a summer afternoon in 1810.”
Mrs. McGregor peered over Norah’s shoulder. “Looks like a charming village. No wonder Meg was homesick.”
Norah continued her story. “One day a special gift arrived for Meg from her grandmother.”
The Aldens were instantly curious. “What was it?” said Henry.
“A heart-shaped brooch,” Norah told them. “It was a family heirloom made from precious gems. The rubies were particularly beautiful and rare.”
“What’s a brooch?” asked Benny.
“It’s a pin, Benny,” Mrs. McGregor answered. “Just like the one I have on my blouse. Only Meg’s brooch sounds much fancier than mine.”
“Meg loved the brooch. She wore it whenever she was feeling homesick.” Norah started flipping through the pages of her album again. She stopped and pulled out an old photograph. “Here’s a picture of my great-great-grandmother wearing her brooch.” She passed it along.
Sure enough, the fair-haired woman in the high-necked blouse and long skirt was wearing a heart-shaped brooch at her throat. The Aldens took turns studying it—first Violet, then Benny, then Henry, and finally Jessie.
“I wish I could show you the brooch itself,” said Norah, taking the photograph that Jessie handed her. “But I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“Impossible?” Jessie looked puzzled.
Norah let out a sigh. “Sadly, the brooch disappeared long ago.”
“Oh, no!” cried Violet.
“Apparently, Meg left the heart-shaped brooch on her dresser one evening,” Norah explained. “In the morning, it was gone.”
Benny’s mouth dropped open. “You mean … somebody stole it?”
“That’s what everybody figured,” said Norah. “But the strange thing is, they say there was no sign that someone had broken into the house.”
“There’s something I don’t understand,” Henry remarked. “Why would Meg leave a valuable heirloom out on her dresser in the first place?”
Jessie had been wondering the same thing. “If the brooch meant so much to her, why didn’t Meg put it away in a safe place?”
“Exactly—yes!” said Norah, who seemed delighted by their questions. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying, Norah?”
“I’m saying that I don’t think the brooch was stolen.” Norah closed the album and placed it on the table beside her. “I’ve always believed Meg found a secret hiding place for it.”
Jessie blinked in surprise. “Why would she do something like that?”
“It’s not as strange as you might think, Jessie.” Norah settled back against a cushion. “I’m just guessing, but it’s possible she hid that brooch to keep it safe—and out of her husband’s reach.”
“What do you mean?” asked Violet.
“Now, don’t get me wrong,” Norah said, holding up a hand. “Jon Eton was a kind man, but he liked to gamble. He was a bit too interested in money for his own good.”
“Interested enough to sell Meg’s brooch?” Jessie asked in surprise.
“It’s hard to say, Jessie. But I don’t think Meg was taking any chances. I’m convinced she found a hiding place for it.”
“How can you be so sure, Norah?” Henry wondered.
“Because in her later years, Meg made a wall-hanging with a verse hand-stitched on it.” Norah leaned forward. “I believe that verse holds a secret.”
“What kind of secret, Norah?” asked Henry, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.
“The secret of where the brooch is hidden.” Norah reached down for the framed verse propped against her chair.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Violet cried as Norah held it up for everyone to see.
Jessie moved closer to get a better look. “Meg used a different-colored thread for every letter,” she said admiringly.
Norah smiled proudly. “Meg was known for her fancy stitching.”
Benny could hardly stand the suspense. “What does it say, Norah?” he asked, bouncing up and down. “The verse, I mean.”
Norah smiled at Benny’s enthusiasm. The
n she read the words on it aloud:
When last goes first,
and first goes last,
Eton’s Loop will show you
a clue from the past.
Confused, the Aldens looked at one another. After hearing the verse one more time, Henry said, “That’s a tough one to figure out!”
Benny agreed. “It’s not much to go on.”
Jessie tugged her small notebook and pencil from her pocket. As she copied the verse, Henry and Violet looked at each other and smiled. They could always count on Jessie to be organized.
“I don’t get it.” Benny was thinking hard. “What exactly is Eton’s Loop?”
“I wish I knew, Benny,” Norah told him.
“When we were your age,” put in Mrs. McGregor, “we drove ourselves crazy trying to figure it out. Every time we thought we were on to something—”
“We’d end up going around in circles!” finished Norah.
Violet had a sudden thought. “Would you like to work on the mystery with us, Pam?” she asked, looking over at her.
“We can use all the help we can get,” added Henry.
Pam shook her head. “I don’t like mysteries,” she said, barely looking up from her puzzle.
Benny could hardly believe his ears. “But they’re just like jigsaw puzzles,” he was quick to point out. “You fit all the pieces together and—”
Before he had a chance to finish, Pam suddenly got to her feet. “I think I’ll go up to bed.”
Norah looked disappointed. “Well … I suppose that’s best if you’re tired. Oh, would you mind putting this back in the living room for me on your way, dear?” she added, holding the photograph album out to Pam.
“In the cabinet with the glass doors, right?”
“Right.”
With that, Pam gave her great-aunt a hug, then she said good-night and went inside. Norah looked worried.
“Pam just hasn’t been herself this summer,” she said. “She’s usually so cheery. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what’s bothering her.”
The Aldens looked at one another, wondering the same thing.
CHAPTER 3
The Watery Ghost
That night, all the Aldens fell asleep right away. Around midnight, Benny stirred. He thought he heard something—a rushing kind of sound. It seemed to be coming from outside. What was making that noise?
“Henry?” he whispered.
Henry didn’t answer. He was sound asleep.
Benny slid out of bed. He went over to the window. Leaning on the sill, he peered out through the window screen into the inky darkness.
The strange noise suddenly stopped.
“Benny?” Henry asked sleepily “What’s going on?”
“I … I heard something.”
“It’s just the crickets,” Henry said in the middle of a yawn. “Nothing to worry about.”
Benny nodded his head. “No, it was something else, Henry,” he insisted, trying to keep his voice low. “Something … weird.”
“You were probably dreaming,” Henry told him, in a sleepy voice.
“Maybe,” Benny said, as he climbed back into bed. But he knew he wasn’t dreaming.
“I’m telling you, your great-great-grandmother’s brooch was stolen,” Annette was telling Norah at breakfast the next morning. “If you ask me, it was taken by one of the workmen at the time.”
Benny frowned. “You don’t think there’s a secret hiding place?”
“I certainly don’t.” Annette tore a small piece of crust off her toast and popped it into her mouth. “I’ve done the research. I know what I’m talking about.”
Benny looked crushed.
Violet felt her little brother’s disappointment. “We won’t know for sure until we do some investigating, Benny.” She passed the platter of bacon to Pam.
Henry nodded. “We should at least check into it.”
“Maybe you missed something, Annette,” Benny said.
This was the wrong thing to say. Annette frowned. “Well, isn’t it lucky we have the Aldens around to keep us on track,” she said, though it was clear from her voice that she didn’t think it was lucky at all.
Jessie and Henry looked at each other. Why was Annette so unfriendly?
“According to all the old newspapers, there was no evidence of theft.” Norah took a bite of her toast and chewed thoughtfully. “And what about that little verse of Meg’s? What do you think it means, Annette?”
“Nothing, probably.”
Norah lifted an eyebrow. “Nothing?”
“Nonsense verse,” Annette said, patting her mouth with a napkin. “That’s all it is.”
Pam tucked a loose strand of hair under her polka-dotted headband. “What’s nonsense verse?” she asked.
“A silly rhyme that has no meaning whatsoever,” Annette answered.
But Norah wasn’t convinced. “I think there’s more to Meg’s verse than meets the eye.”
Mrs. McGregor was quick to agree. “If anyone can figure it out, the Aldens can.”
Annette threw up her hands in a frustrated way. “Well, I have better things to do with my time,” she said, pushing back her chair. “I’ll be in the den if you need me.”
“Before you go, Annette,” Norah said, changing the subject. “I was wondering if you’ve seen my tape recorder. It seems to have disappeared from my desk.”
Jessie couldn’t help noticing that Pam was blushing.
“I’m afraid not,” said Annette. Then an amused smile curled her lips. “But I’m sure the Aldens can track it down—just like that!” she added, with a snap of her fingers. Then she hurried away.
“I don’t think Annette likes us,” Benny said in a small voice. He wasn’t used to anyone making fun of them.
“I’m sure she likes you just fine, Benny,” Norah assured him. “She puts in long hours and it makes her a bit grumpy. You mustn’t let it bother you.” She paused as she swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “This research seems to mean a great deal to Annette. I’m not really sure why.”
Mrs. McGregor, who was buttering her toast, suddenly looked up. “Your assistant seems sure the brooch was stolen.”
Benny nodded. “By one of the workmen. I wonder what she meant by that.”
“She was talking about the men who were working on the bridge,” explained Norah, as she poured syrup on her pancakes. “They were hired around the time the brooch disappeared.”
Henry asked, “Are you talking about the bridge out back?”
“That’s right, Henry,” said Norah. “It came all the way from Stone Pool.”
“Stone Pool?” Violet looked at Norah in surprise.
“It was the bridge where Jon proposed to Meg,” put in Mrs. McGregor, as she helped herself to more bacon. “Right, Norah?”
Norah smiled at her friend. “Yes, indeed, Margaret! And Jon was determined to bring that bridge across the ocean for his bride.”
Violet nodded in understanding. Jon wanted to bring a part of Stone Pool to Eton Place to keep Meg from feeling homesick.
“They say he made an offer that the village of Stone Pool just couldn’t refuse. In no time at all, the bridge was taken apart, stone by stone, and shipped to America.” Norah smiled a little. “There was only one problem.”
“What was that, Norah?” Jessie asked.
“Jon was positive the bridge would span the stream in the woods,” she said. “But he was sadly mistaken. You see, the bridge wasn’t nearly long enough.”
“At least the bridge was the right size for the stream behind the house,” Violet pointed out.
“There’s no stream running through the backyard, Violet.” Norah said. “The bridge doesn’t cross over water—only a large bed of pansies.”
“No wonder nobody ever goes fishing from it,” Henry realized.
“Not a drop of water under it,” Norah said with a nod. “Never has been.” She handed the syrup to Benny. “But Meg didn’t mind,” she added. “It made her happy t
o look out and see that old stone bridge in the backyard.”
Benny was wondering about something. “Is the bridge haunted, Norah?”
“Darlene spilled the beans, I’m afraid,” said Mrs. McGregor.
Norah rolled her eyes. “Darlene never did know how to hold her tongue.”
The Aldens looked at one another in astonishment. Had Darlene been right after all?
“Does Jon haunt the bridge?” Violet wanted to know. “Or is it Meg?”
Benny suddenly remembered what Mrs. McGregor had said. “I bet it’s the ghost of the chattering bones!”
Norah smiled over at the youngest Alden. “You hit the nail on the head, Benny!”
Jessie was curious. “Will you tell us more about it, Norah?”
Norah said, “Over the years strange noises have sometimes been heard in the middle of the night.”
Benny’s eyes widened. “What kind of noises?”
“I’ve never heard the noises myself, Benny,” Norah said, as she padded her mouth with a napkin. “But they say it sounds just like water flowing over rocks.”
The Aldens were so surprised all they could do was stare. Before they could ask any questions, Norah spoke again.
“You see, ‘Chattering Bones’ was the name of a little stream near Stone Pool. For many years it flowed under an old stone bridge on the edge of town.”
Violet gasped. “The bridge Jon bought for Meg?”
Norah nodded her head. “The very same one that was taken apart and shipped across the ocean.”
Pam, who had been quietly peeling an orange, suddenly looked up. “Just after that, the Chattering Bones disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” the Aldens echoed in unison.
Pam nodded. “It vanished into thin air.”
Henry was baffled. “But it couldn’t just … vanish!”
“Apparently it did, Henry. They say the stream dried up shortly after the bridge was torn down. It was almost as if the creek needed the bridge.” Norah spoke slowly as if uncertain about what she was saying.
Violet shivered. Everything was becoming more and more mysterious. Benny’s eyes were round. “You mean, the sound at night is the ghost of the Chattering Bones?”
Pam was the first to answer. “Yes, the ghostly stream flows under the bridge when it’s dark,” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
Boxcar Children Spooky Special Page 2
