The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road

this is a loss you can’t pay for, any more than you can pay for Amy’s hurt feelings.”
    Amy put her hand on Nick’s arm. “He didn’t break the vase on purpose, Nick. He was pushed. If he wants to try to make up for it by paying for it, let him. After all, we’re here to raise money for the art department. I’d hate to think the vase was a total loss.”
    Ben Riker took a ten-dollar bill out of his billfold and tossed it onto the table. “You heard her, buddy. Here, you can use this to buy a brand-new lump of clay. Come on, girls. I want to get you two home before you get me into any more trouble.” Ben turned on his heel and strode out of the gym. Honey and Trixie, too embarrassed even to look at Nick and Amy, followed him.
    The three rode home in strained silence. Ben, still angry at Nick Roberts’s tongue-lashing, drove Mr. Wheeler’s car fast and recklessly. Trixie, knowing that if she opened her mouth she would say something she’d regret later, gritted her teeth and said nothing. Honey, always trying to soothe hurt feelings, made a few random comments on the weather and schoolwork, but she, too, lapsed into silence when she got no reply.
    As they neared the Belden driveway, Honey said, “Ben, why don’t you take us both to the Manor House? With Jim, Brian, and Mart all busy, Regan will be happier if Trixie and I exercise at least two of the horses.”
    Regan was the Wheelers’ groom. He was a great friend to the Bob-Whites, but he also had a temper suited to his red hair. The Bob-Whites all tried to do their share of exercising and grooming the horses, to avoid upsetting him. Still, Trixie thought about begging off the ride, afraid that she’d be unable to keep herself from saying something to Honey about Ben’s behavior, but she was also afraid of asking Ben to make the extra stop at Crabapple Farm.
    The silence between the two girls continued as they went up to Honey’s bedroom to change, Trixie into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt borrowed from her friend. They didn’t speak during the walk to the stable or while they were saddling Susie and Lady. But the warm spring weather and the first signs of green on the trees of the Wheeler game preserve soon soothed Trixie’s temper, and she began to talk about the lack of funds for the art department and what they could do to help.
    “I could ask Daddy to make a big donation,” Honey suggested. “You know he’s always willing to help out in the community. He thinks Sleepy-side Junior-Senior High School is a wonderful school because my grades are better here than they ever were before. Although,” she said with a sigh, “they still aren’t very good.”
    “I suppose if it comes down to that, you could ask him,” Trixie said. “But I’d much rather have the Bob-Whites do something to raise the money. After all, your father isn’t a student at Sleepyside, and we are.”
    Honey giggled at the mental picture of her husky, businesslike father sitting at a school desk, raising his hand to volunteer an answer. “That’s true. But what can we Bob-Whites do that we haven’t already done? We’ve had an ice-skating show and an antique show, and we had an auction that wasn’t very successful, and—”
    “That’s it!” Trixie shouted so loudly that Susie, startled, shied, and Trixie had to pause for a moment to calm the horse before she could continue. “That’s exactly what well do to raise money for the art department: We’ll do what we didn’t do before!”

Big Plans ● 3

    HONEY PULLED LADY to a halt and stared at her friend as though she’d just taken leave of her senses. Why, Trixie Belden,” she said, “that’s what I just said. Of course we have to do something to raise money for the art department that we haven’t done before. That doesn’t solve the problem if we don’t know what that something is.”
    “We do know what that something is, Honey,” Trixie replied. “What I meant was, we’ll do what we were going to do before but didn’t!”
    “The walkathon!” Honey exclaimed, finally understanding what Trixie meant. “Oh, what a perfectly perfect ideal We were going to have a walkathon to raise the money to replate Hoppy, but we never did because we donated the reward money we got for finding him—what I mean is, the reward that Sammy almost got, except that he stole Hoppy in the first place and only pretended to find him, so they gave it to us. The money, I mean, and— Why, Trixie Belden, why are you