The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon

there didn’t invite us herself,” Honey said in a rush. “I’ve been worrying about it ever since Daddy left. You see, he knew we’d be disappointed about the canceled trip. So Jim and I think he suggested the first thing that came into his head. He’s insisted on paying everyone’s expenses, of course.”
    Trixie stared at her friend. “I still don’t understand, Honey. We can’t go to the Finger Lakes, but we can go to the Catskills, except you’re not sure we’ll be welcome. Is that it?”
    Honey turned toward her with a sigh of relief. “That’s it, exactly,” she said. “I knew you’d understand! Jim’s not sure we should go, either. So he suggested that I invite you here and—”
    She broke off as a light tap sounded on the door. Jim poked his red head into the room. “Have you told her about it?” he asked his sister. “What does Trixie think? Should we foist ourselves on Miss Trask this weekend or not?”
    Suddenly Trixie did understand what Honey had been trying to tell her. Kind, middle-aged Miss Trask was one of their favorite people. She had once been Honey’s governess, but now that Honey no longer needed her in that capacity, Miss Trask managed the huge Wheeler estate for Honey’s father. She also took charge of everything while he was away on his frequent business trips.
    This time, when Miss Trask had learned about the canceled plans, Trixie guessed that she had offered to take the Bob-Whites somewhere else instead. Or had she?
    When Trixie asked, it was Jim who said, “No, she didn’t offer, Trix. It was all Dad’s idea. He did ask her about it, of course, and she told him it was fine. But what else could she say?”
    “What’s more,” Honey said, “we think that she was planning something pretty special for herself this weekend. She thought we’d all be away, you see. So she’d planned a trip of her own.”
    “Where in the Catskills is she going?” Trixie asked.
    “That’s just it,” Honey answered. “She’s going home.”
    Trixie’s mouth dropped open in a silent O of surprise. Before this evening, she hadn’t really given any thought to the fact that their Miss Trask had any home but the Manor House. But of course she must have come from somewhere.
    Trixie knew that she had taught in a girls’ school before she worked for the Wheelers. In fact, that was where she had met Honey. Trixie also knew that Miss Trask had an invalid sister whom she helped to support, and who was at that time convalescing in a New York hospital. Miss Trask liked the Bob-Whites and willingly helped when they needed her. She had patiently arranged a wedding while the Bob-Whites were in the middle of searching for a missing heiress and solving mysteries around Glen Road. She had even supervised a charity bazaar while Trixie and Honey were chasing a headless horseman.
    Trixie felt guilty as she looked at her friends. “I didn’t even know Miss Trask had a home,” she said softly.
    “We didn’t know, either,” Honey answered, “until she told Dad about it this afternoon. Oh, Trix, it sounds so nice. She was raised in a place called Pirate’s Point, and her childhood home is an old inn.”
    “It’s called Pirate’s Inn,” Jim added. “It got its name from the original owner, who—are you ready for this?—really was a pirate. He was one of Miss Trask’s long-ago relatives, who used the inn as a storage place for his ill-gotten gains.” Honey gasped. “I didn’t know that!”
    “But it’s true,” Jim told her, chuckling. “I’ve just come back from the stables, and Regan told me all about it.”
    Trixie sighed. “It sounds wonderful.”
    “Better than a cottage on Owasco Lake?” Jim asked her, grinning.
    “Better even than that,” Trixie agreed slowly. “But of course you two are right. We can’t go. It wouldn’t be fair to Miss Trask.”
    There was silence as the three friends stared glumly at each other.
    “Then someone’s going to have to tell her,” Jim pointed out at last. “We’ve got to convince her that we’ve got something better to do right here at home.”
    “Or else, knowing her, she won’t leave us,” Honey added quickly. “She’s worked so hard for us. Now it’s our turn to give her a weekend to herself.”
    “You two could come and stay with us at Crabapple Farm,” Trixie suggested. “Moms and Dad won’t mind at all. We can spend the weekend cleaning up the clubhouse and exercising the horses.”
    There was silence once more