The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon

have anything of the kind,” she declared loyally. “Lucy is a tall, willowy redhead with a peaches-and-cream complexion. She always describes herself in her books. That’s how I know.”
    “All I know,” Mart said, “is that you’ve been just itching for some new adventure recently, Trix. Just like Lucy Snodgrass—”
    “Radcliffe,” Trixie said, between her teeth.
    “And that’s the real reason you decided the Bob-Whites are going to the Catskills instead of staying home,” Mart finished smoothly. He turned toward the table, his hands holding the remains of an apple pie.
    All at once, Trixie blinked back hot tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. In the past few days, she had found Mart’s teasing to be almost unbearable. She found herself wondering whether Miss Trask had ever been forced to endure similar torture. It was certainly strange that she had never before mentioned her brother to any of them.
    “Oh, Mart,” she exclaimed, her voice trembling, “it wasn’t like that at all. The real reason we agreed to go with Miss Trask was that I had a sudden feeling that she needed us.”
    “I’ll bet,” Mart said sarcastically.
    “Knock it off, Mart!” Brian said quickly.
    But it was too late. Mart seemed to be too enchanted with the sound of his own voice to stop now. “I can see it all,” he announced. “Trixie Teenybopper is simply yearning for adventure, just like her fictional heroine—she of the bee-yoo-tiful complexion—”
    Trixie was suddenly furious. “My Lucy books are no dumber than those Cosmo McNaught science-fiction things you’re always reading.”
    “It’s not the same thing at all,” Mart drawled, cutting himself a huge wedge of pie. “Cosmo is a superlative writer, and moreover, he’s not covered with adolescent zits.”
    Trixie could feel the hot tears gathering behind her eyelids. She swallowed hard. I won’t let Mart make me cry , she told herself. I just won’t! All the same, she knew she was going to have to run to the blessed privacy of her own room—and soon.
    “I’m going to bed,” she said abruptly. “And by the way, you needn’t worry about tomorrow’s arrangements, either of you. Dad, Moms, and the other Bob-Whites have already been told about the plans for the trip.”
    “Thank you, ‘Lucy’ Belden—” Mart began. Reddy raised his head in sleepy outrage as Brian suddenly rose to his feet and shoved his chair roughly toward the table. “Sometimes, Mart,” he said, “you go too far. And Trixie’s right! I don’t think that Lucy Radcliffe’s Adventure in Paris is one bit sillier than Cosmo Mc-Naught’s Journey to the Crab Nebula. ”
    Mart flushed at the unaccustomed criticism from his older brother. “It’s not the same thing at all,” he mumbled.
    Trixie was already halfway out the door. But she was gratified to hear Brian add, “And one other thing, Mart—if I were you, I wouldn’t be quite so quick to poke fun at Trixie’s sudden hunches. If you’ll think back, you’ll realize they’re usually right!”

    During school the next morning, Trixie tried hard to forget her quarrel with Mart. She kept telling herself that he hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. All the same, she found it difficult to concentrate on her lessons. Several times, when she should have been studying, she found herself, instead, staring miserably out of the window.
    By lunchtime, her spirits were so low that she was even wishing she could stay home, after all.
    No one seemed to notice her long face, however, when she hurried into the noisy cafeteria. Brian and Jim, dressed in white caps and aprons, were on duty that day. At the moment, though, they were seated at a table with the other Bob-Whites. They were snatching a few moments to make sure everyone understood the final arrangements. Trixie stood still, listening to them.
    “All right,” Jim was saying, raising his voice over the excited chatter going on around him. “Is everything clear? The station wagon is already loaded and ready to go. Miss Trask will drive it here and meet us outside, right after school. Okay?”
    Trixie thought of the Bob-Whites’ station wagon, of which they each owned exactly a one-seventh share. She also thought of her small weekend case, which the boys had placed inside it earlier that morning. Besides her clothes, the case contained the latest Lucy Radcliffe spy thriller. Trixie had packed it while Mart wasn’t looking. Now she wished she hadn’t. She