The Mysterious Visitor

sure that Di doesn’t like him. And you haven’t even met him yet.
    By the time she had finished dusting the living room, Trixie was laughing at herself. She dismissed the mystery from her mind as she shook out the dustcloth and mop on the terrace. The sun was shining brightly, but a cool breeze was blowing. It was going to be a wonderful day. Indian summer was just about the nicest time of the year, except that it happened when school was in session.
    She groaned, remembering her English homework assignment. She would simply have to find time to write that theme this evening, just so she could forget about it. And she would make Brian help her. He was very good at both spelling and punctuation. Mart used a lot of big words and knew their definitions, too, but he was apt to spell words just the way they sounded, not as they were spelled in the dictionary.
    Then Trixie remembered Mart’s offer to help her write the theme—but, for a fee. "The nerve of him," Trixie said to herself as she went upstairs to make Bobby’s bed. "As if I’d pay Mart or anybody else a dollar to help me!"
    Bobby’s bed was its usual lumpy mess, which meant Trixie had to strip it. Although the little boy was only supposed to take his panda or teddy bear to bed with him, it always seemed to Trixie as though the entire contents of his toy box were there, way down at the foot. This morning she found a water pistol, a tiny train of cars, and a boat. To her horror when she impatiently yanked off the top sheet, a whole deck of cards leaped out and flew off to every corner of the room.
    "Fifty-two cards in a deck!" Trixie groaned as she stooped to get one from the floor.
    But at last this chore was done, and Trixie raced out of the house. When she arrived at the Wheelers’, she found the girls and Jim on the porch talking excitedly.
    "Everything is wonderful," Honey told Trixie. "Mother just got through talking to Mrs. Lynch on the telephone, and Di is going to be allowed to give just the kind of a party she wants." "Swell," Trixie said, sinking into the glider beside Jim. "With that haircut of his, Mart can go as an escaped convict. All you need to do, Honey, is whip him up a costume out of some old striped mattress ticking. What are you going as, Jim?"
    "Dracula," Jim said promptly. "It’s a known fact that all vampires have red hair. I hear you’re going as a goon." He nodded approvingly. "The last goon I danced with in the moonlight looked just the way you look now."
    Trixie tossed her head. "Is that so? I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to wear the pirate’s costume Mart wore at the school masquerade last year. It should fit me perfectly. All I’ll need is a black wig, a red bandanna, and a big black moustache—and I’ll make a cardboard knife."
    "It sounds horrid," Honey said, laughing. "But a lot of fun. I think I’ll go as Captain John Silver, except that I don’t think I could cope with both a wooden leg and a parrot. But if Brian, our future doctor, is going as both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, I guess I can manage. Di can’t decide whether to go as Queen Elizabeth or a character out of one of Jane Austen’s novels. Which do you think would look better, Trix?"
    Trixie groaned. "How literary can we get? I think it would be a lot simpler if we all went in our B.W.G. jackets over our jeans, with masks and wigs. Since Di is going to become a member this weekend, there would be six of us dressed exactly alike. If we all wear the same false faces and maybe black, curly wigs, we could confuse everybody and have a lot of fun."
    "It’s a wonderful idea," Di said thoughtfully. "Even if we don’t confuse anybody but Uncle Monty. We’ve just got to confuse him. Otherwise, I know he’ll try to run things and—" She stopped and looked at Honey appealingly. "Please, you explain to Trixie and Jim."
    Honey frowned. "It’s hard to explain, Di, but I’ll try. You see," she said to the others, "Di’s afraid that, even though her mother has promised to let her run the party, her uncle will interfere at the last minute and blow whistles and run around like he was a master of ceremonies on a radio or TV show."
    "But why should he?" Trixie demanded. "It’s not a grown-up party."
    Di sighed. "You don’t know Uncle Monty. He’s used to running things. He was one of the first settlers in the Southwest and practically made Arizona the great state it is today. Tucson would be just a ghost city if it weren’t for Uncle Monty." It was