Chapter Two - Trixie and Honey Help Out
Rated Blue Star for all ages. Some mild violence.
“Scurrilous,” Mart said, offering his sister a knowing grin before consulting the paper in his hand.
“Er, s-c-u-r-r-i-l—is it one l or two?” Trixie frowned in concentration, as she fell into a seat beside Honey, towards the rear of the bus.
“One,” Mart returned, sliding in behind her. “Start from the beginning again.”
“Slavedriver,” Dan said, joining his friend.
“I do what I must,” Mart intoned.
“Fine. S-c-u-r-r-i-l-o-u-s,” Trixie said.
Honey pulled out the word list to check if she was correct and nodded her head in approval. The two of them were studying hard having, much to their surprise, secured places in the Eastern Regional Spelling Contest being held in New York in two weeks. If by some miracle they got through, they would go on to the finals in Washington D.C.
“Fish,” Mart said, blinking his lashes innocently.
“Go away.” Trixie sniffed. “Give me a word from the list.”
“I’m doing the testing. I choose the words. Now, spell fish!”
Trixie rolled her eyes at Honey before chanting. “F-i-s-h.”
“Incorrect. The answer is g-h-o-t-i.”
Dan laughed and Trixie wailed.
“Honestly, Mart,” Honey chided, “this is hard enough.”
“And it’s all your fault we’re both in this,” Trixie grumbled. “So, don’t make up crazy stuff.”
“Excuse me.” Mart looked offended. “This is an example of the vagaries of the English language. Consider this: the gh is the f sound in rough, o is the i sound in women, ti is the sh sound in motion. Ergo, g-h-o-t-i spells fish.”
“Erg, indeed.” Trixie made a face. “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you in the competition, instead of Honey and me?”
“Ow,” Dan said. “She kind of has you there.”
Mart scowled. He might be the Bob-White in possession of the most extensive vocabulary, but spelling wasn’t his strongest suit. “As previously evidenced by my recent example, the erroneous whims and historically intricate influences that have been thrust upon the English language renders spelling unsuitable to one whose faculties are intertwined in logic and accustomed to a highly-developed form of analysis.”
“I don’t even know which of those words we should try to spell,” Honey opined.
“He should have to spell them.” Trixie said crossly. “Not that he could.”
“Children, children,” Dan scolded, his gray eyes twinkling. “In the absence of the two eldest BWGs, I feel it necessary to intervene. Play nicely.”
Both Trixie and Mart tried not to smile and failed completely.
“Next word, please, Mr. Dictionary,” Trixie said.
“Fluorescence.” Mart’s smile widened.
“Seriously?” Trixie sighed. “F-l-u-o-r—ugh—e-s-c-e-n-c-e.”
“Perfect. Apart from the whole ugh thing. That might get you disqualified. However, your mnemonics are improving.”
“Her what?” Honey asked.
“Memory, or the art of developing memory, to be more accurate,” Mart replied. “Though I feel it necessary to point out some parts are better developed than others. Whilst I can claim some responsibility for embroiling you in the throes of this contest, sister dear, Honey’s inclusion is all down to you.”
Trixie was about to respond when she glanced out the window and her blue eyes opened wide. “Speaking of memory, we almost forgot. Come on, Honey. We’re almost there.”
The two grabbed their books and bags and stumbled down the aisle, where Trixie hastily explained that they needed to get off the bus.
A minute later, they were standing before a trim, little white house. Not far away was a barn, carefully restored, the picture of country charm. The metal sign, blue, edged in burnished gold, read simply “The Antique Barn.”
“It does look good, doesn’t it?” Trixie said, shivering as she zipped up her jacket. “Gosh, it’s chilly. I can’t believe winter’s almost here.”
Honey nodded, fastening her own jacket. “It feels like Halloween was only yesterday, which, I guess is not that odd, because it was, really only a few days ago. But when October becomes November then, all of a sudden, it’s Christmas, well once you get to December and….” She trailed off, seeing her best friend’s expression. “Let’s go in. Mrs. De Keyser is waiting for us.”
They followed the flagstone walk to the steps of the wide, inviting, porch. Trixie raised the lion’s head knocker and rapped sharply on the door. A minute or so later the pretty white door, with its leadlight insert, opened to reveal a pink-cheeked, petite, older woman, her arm encased in a cast and held in place by a colourful silk scarf.
“Please come in,” she said, stepping back to allow them into the hall. “You must forgive me and my home for not looking our best. It’s amazing how difficult it is to do things with only one arm.” She ushered the teenagers into a cozy, cluttered living room. There were magazines and books piled on almost every surface, but the room still felt welcoming.
Suddenly, there was a furious barking and a small, wiry black dog charged towards the girls, planting himself in front of them, demanding to know what they were doing in his house.
“Stop it, Willy,” Mrs. De Keyser scolded. “These kind young ladies have come to help out. After all, you haven’t been doing any housework, have you?”
Willy did not look convinced.
“He won’t bite. He just likes to make sure that any visitors know who’s the boss. I think he’s bored. Especially because I can’t take him for walks at the moment.”
“Oh, we can do that.” Trixie smiled and bent down to pat the dog’s head. He growled, then tilted his head to one side, rolled over, grinned, and offered his tummy for scratching.
“There, he likes you.” Mrs De Keyser sounded relieved.
“Would you like to tell us what you need done, Mrs. De Keyser?” Honey asked, carefully placing her books on a chair and shrugging out of her jacket.
“Yes, of course. Do hang your jackets up in the closet, if you can find a spare hanger. It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid.”
Trixie glanced inside and shrugged. “Not as messy as my closet,” she said, and all three laughed.
“If you don’t mind, the first thing I’ll get you to do is follow me around the house and put all the things I need regularly where I can reach them.” The older woman led them into the kitchen and Honey moved the kettle, toaster, and a few other items as directed by Mrs. De Keyser.
“I’m surprised how hard it is,” their hostess said. “There are so many things I can’t do.”
Trixie glanced out the kitchen window and then turned back again. “if you need your yard work done, I have two older brothers.” Honey’s brows shot up, but Trixie ignored her. “They could take care of it for you.”
“Thank you, dear, but the yard can wait. Now, if you two could just help me tidy up a little and perhaps prepare a big stew for me, I’ll be just fine.”
“Where should we start?” Trixie asked eagerly.
“I think we should prepare the stew first,” Honey said practically. “Then we can tidy up while it’s cooking.”
“Aren’t you a clever thing?” Mrs. De Keyser said admiringly. “Now, thanks to Mrs. Vanderpoel, I have everything I need for the stew. It should keep me going for days.” She opened the refrigerator as she spoke, pulling on the vegetable crisper. A bag of carrots fell to the floor. Quick as lighting, Willy appeared, grabbed it, and dashed off.
“Come back here you, naughty dog!”
Willy ignored his mistress and raced happily around the living room, dodging behind the couch. He emerged, covered in dust but without the carrots. Trixie laughed and reached under the sofa to grab the bright orange bag.
“You wouldn’t think to look at him that such a little dog could carry something as heavy as this,” Honey observed as she took the bag from her friend and opened it. “But I remember that Buddy, he was the puppy I had when I first moved here, often ran off with things.”
“Willy does have a very strong jaw,” Willy’s mistress confirmed.
Following, Mrs. De Keyser’s instructions, Honey and Trixie sliced and cut meat and vegetables, placed them in a heavy pot and added spices and herbs. Honey turned on the burner and slid the lid into place. She then lined up several bowls on the counter and placed a ladle alongside them. “This way you can serve up several meals and just pour some water into the pot. We can wash it up for you when we come next.”
“Oh, that is a good idea.” Mrs De Keyser beamed at them. “That I can manage one-handed. Now, I’ll show you the rest of my home.”
Both girls followed the older woman down the hall carpeted hall and up the harrow wooden staircase.
Trixie quickly got to work with the vacuum cleaner, while Honey stripped and changed the bed, plumping the pillows and pulling the covers back into place.
“Are you sure this isn’t too much work for you?” Mrs. De Keyser asked.
“Of course not, I’m used to it. I do this all the time at home,” Trixie said, ignoring Honey’s raised brows again. “We thought we’d come every day after school.”
“Oh, nonsense, I can manage just fine now that you’ve helped me so much today.”
“Oh, I think we should come every other day,” Honey said swiftly. “I’d like to put those sheets through the wash for you and Trixie will want to dust. She loves dusting. She does it a lot.”
Trixie considered hitting her best friend with the vacuum hose but decided against it.
“Are you sure you have time?”
“Of course, we do,” Trixie assured her. “We’re happy to help. Besides, we’ve been wanting to take a look at the new antiques store, and now you’ve given us the perfect opportunity.
“Yes, well, that’s a nice idea,” Mrs. De Keyser said, though a slight frown marred her expression.
“Have you been in there yet?” Trixie asked.
“Only briefly,” the older woman replied. “I do worry about Mr. Reid. When I rented it to him, I thought the barn would make an ideal store, but…there seems to be very few customers. I don’t know how he makes a living. Still, he pays his rent on time.”
“I’m sure he’s doing fine. He certainly has a nice car,” Trixie observed.
“Things will get busier in the summer,” Honey added reassuringly.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, dear. But all those antiques…”
“Do you like antiques?” Trixie asked. “Honey has loads at her house.”
“Well, I have some of my parents’ things, but I admit, at my age, I like new things. And a lot of what they call antiques, these days, are just things I grew up with. Now, you really should get going. I’m sure your families will be waiting dinner for you.”
“I guess we should get going,” Honey said.
Willy appeared at that moment, scratching at Trixie’s shin. “Oh, sorry, Willy!” Trixie exclaimed. “We’ll take you out before we go.”
The girls quickly donned their jackets, Mrs De Keyser produced Willy’s leash, and the two Bob-Whites hurried out with the dog.
The November afternoon had darkened considerably, and the wind stirred the leaves of the trees that surrounded the little white house. A thick hedge was formed by a line of fir trees, and Willy dragged Honey towards them, validating his mistress’s claim of strength.
“Look! You can see the barn from here.” Trixie pointed towards the shafts of yellow light that spilled from the building next door. A figure passed by the unshaded window.
Trixie grabbed her friend’s arm. “Honey, I think it’s open. Let’s take Willy back and then we have to check it out before we go home.”
It didn’t take long to say their goodbyes and, promising to return in two days, the two girls took their leave.
MAIN NEXT
Author's Notes: Continued thanks to my wonderous Trixie peeps, especially Vivian. She worked on this with much alacrity and I have been shamefully slow in getting it sorted. I can only hope that if people are willing to persist with reading, what I consider, to be the worst book in the entire series, that my changes may allow it to move up a couple of positions. Trixie Belden et all belong to Random house and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
“Scurrilous,” Mart said, offering his sister a knowing grin before consulting the paper in his hand.
“Er, s-c-u-r-r-i-l—is it one l or two?” Trixie frowned in concentration, as she fell into a seat beside Honey, towards the rear of the bus.
“One,” Mart returned, sliding in behind her. “Start from the beginning again.”
“Slavedriver,” Dan said, joining his friend.
“I do what I must,” Mart intoned.
“Fine. S-c-u-r-r-i-l-o-u-s,” Trixie said.
Honey pulled out the word list to check if she was correct and nodded her head in approval. The two of them were studying hard having, much to their surprise, secured places in the Eastern Regional Spelling Contest being held in New York in two weeks. If by some miracle they got through, they would go on to the finals in Washington D.C.
“Fish,” Mart said, blinking his lashes innocently.
“Go away.” Trixie sniffed. “Give me a word from the list.”
“I’m doing the testing. I choose the words. Now, spell fish!”
Trixie rolled her eyes at Honey before chanting. “F-i-s-h.”
“Incorrect. The answer is g-h-o-t-i.”
Dan laughed and Trixie wailed.
“Honestly, Mart,” Honey chided, “this is hard enough.”
“And it’s all your fault we’re both in this,” Trixie grumbled. “So, don’t make up crazy stuff.”
“Excuse me.” Mart looked offended. “This is an example of the vagaries of the English language. Consider this: the gh is the f sound in rough, o is the i sound in women, ti is the sh sound in motion. Ergo, g-h-o-t-i spells fish.”
“Erg, indeed.” Trixie made a face. “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you in the competition, instead of Honey and me?”
“Ow,” Dan said. “She kind of has you there.”
Mart scowled. He might be the Bob-White in possession of the most extensive vocabulary, but spelling wasn’t his strongest suit. “As previously evidenced by my recent example, the erroneous whims and historically intricate influences that have been thrust upon the English language renders spelling unsuitable to one whose faculties are intertwined in logic and accustomed to a highly-developed form of analysis.”
“I don’t even know which of those words we should try to spell,” Honey opined.
“He should have to spell them.” Trixie said crossly. “Not that he could.”
“Children, children,” Dan scolded, his gray eyes twinkling. “In the absence of the two eldest BWGs, I feel it necessary to intervene. Play nicely.”
Both Trixie and Mart tried not to smile and failed completely.
“Next word, please, Mr. Dictionary,” Trixie said.
“Fluorescence.” Mart’s smile widened.
“Seriously?” Trixie sighed. “F-l-u-o-r—ugh—e-s-c-e-n-c-e.”
“Perfect. Apart from the whole ugh thing. That might get you disqualified. However, your mnemonics are improving.”
“Her what?” Honey asked.
“Memory, or the art of developing memory, to be more accurate,” Mart replied. “Though I feel it necessary to point out some parts are better developed than others. Whilst I can claim some responsibility for embroiling you in the throes of this contest, sister dear, Honey’s inclusion is all down to you.”
Trixie was about to respond when she glanced out the window and her blue eyes opened wide. “Speaking of memory, we almost forgot. Come on, Honey. We’re almost there.”
The two grabbed their books and bags and stumbled down the aisle, where Trixie hastily explained that they needed to get off the bus.
A minute later, they were standing before a trim, little white house. Not far away was a barn, carefully restored, the picture of country charm. The metal sign, blue, edged in burnished gold, read simply “The Antique Barn.”
“It does look good, doesn’t it?” Trixie said, shivering as she zipped up her jacket. “Gosh, it’s chilly. I can’t believe winter’s almost here.”
Honey nodded, fastening her own jacket. “It feels like Halloween was only yesterday, which, I guess is not that odd, because it was, really only a few days ago. But when October becomes November then, all of a sudden, it’s Christmas, well once you get to December and….” She trailed off, seeing her best friend’s expression. “Let’s go in. Mrs. De Keyser is waiting for us.”
They followed the flagstone walk to the steps of the wide, inviting, porch. Trixie raised the lion’s head knocker and rapped sharply on the door. A minute or so later the pretty white door, with its leadlight insert, opened to reveal a pink-cheeked, petite, older woman, her arm encased in a cast and held in place by a colourful silk scarf.
“Please come in,” she said, stepping back to allow them into the hall. “You must forgive me and my home for not looking our best. It’s amazing how difficult it is to do things with only one arm.” She ushered the teenagers into a cozy, cluttered living room. There were magazines and books piled on almost every surface, but the room still felt welcoming.
Suddenly, there was a furious barking and a small, wiry black dog charged towards the girls, planting himself in front of them, demanding to know what they were doing in his house.
“Stop it, Willy,” Mrs. De Keyser scolded. “These kind young ladies have come to help out. After all, you haven’t been doing any housework, have you?”
Willy did not look convinced.
“He won’t bite. He just likes to make sure that any visitors know who’s the boss. I think he’s bored. Especially because I can’t take him for walks at the moment.”
“Oh, we can do that.” Trixie smiled and bent down to pat the dog’s head. He growled, then tilted his head to one side, rolled over, grinned, and offered his tummy for scratching.
“There, he likes you.” Mrs De Keyser sounded relieved.
“Would you like to tell us what you need done, Mrs. De Keyser?” Honey asked, carefully placing her books on a chair and shrugging out of her jacket.
“Yes, of course. Do hang your jackets up in the closet, if you can find a spare hanger. It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid.”
Trixie glanced inside and shrugged. “Not as messy as my closet,” she said, and all three laughed.
“If you don’t mind, the first thing I’ll get you to do is follow me around the house and put all the things I need regularly where I can reach them.” The older woman led them into the kitchen and Honey moved the kettle, toaster, and a few other items as directed by Mrs. De Keyser.
“I’m surprised how hard it is,” their hostess said. “There are so many things I can’t do.”
Trixie glanced out the kitchen window and then turned back again. “if you need your yard work done, I have two older brothers.” Honey’s brows shot up, but Trixie ignored her. “They could take care of it for you.”
“Thank you, dear, but the yard can wait. Now, if you two could just help me tidy up a little and perhaps prepare a big stew for me, I’ll be just fine.”
“Where should we start?” Trixie asked eagerly.
“I think we should prepare the stew first,” Honey said practically. “Then we can tidy up while it’s cooking.”
“Aren’t you a clever thing?” Mrs. De Keyser said admiringly. “Now, thanks to Mrs. Vanderpoel, I have everything I need for the stew. It should keep me going for days.” She opened the refrigerator as she spoke, pulling on the vegetable crisper. A bag of carrots fell to the floor. Quick as lighting, Willy appeared, grabbed it, and dashed off.
“Come back here you, naughty dog!”
Willy ignored his mistress and raced happily around the living room, dodging behind the couch. He emerged, covered in dust but without the carrots. Trixie laughed and reached under the sofa to grab the bright orange bag.
“You wouldn’t think to look at him that such a little dog could carry something as heavy as this,” Honey observed as she took the bag from her friend and opened it. “But I remember that Buddy, he was the puppy I had when I first moved here, often ran off with things.”
“Willy does have a very strong jaw,” Willy’s mistress confirmed.
Following, Mrs. De Keyser’s instructions, Honey and Trixie sliced and cut meat and vegetables, placed them in a heavy pot and added spices and herbs. Honey turned on the burner and slid the lid into place. She then lined up several bowls on the counter and placed a ladle alongside them. “This way you can serve up several meals and just pour some water into the pot. We can wash it up for you when we come next.”
“Oh, that is a good idea.” Mrs De Keyser beamed at them. “That I can manage one-handed. Now, I’ll show you the rest of my home.”
Both girls followed the older woman down the hall carpeted hall and up the harrow wooden staircase.
Trixie quickly got to work with the vacuum cleaner, while Honey stripped and changed the bed, plumping the pillows and pulling the covers back into place.
“Are you sure this isn’t too much work for you?” Mrs. De Keyser asked.
“Of course not, I’m used to it. I do this all the time at home,” Trixie said, ignoring Honey’s raised brows again. “We thought we’d come every day after school.”
“Oh, nonsense, I can manage just fine now that you’ve helped me so much today.”
“Oh, I think we should come every other day,” Honey said swiftly. “I’d like to put those sheets through the wash for you and Trixie will want to dust. She loves dusting. She does it a lot.”
Trixie considered hitting her best friend with the vacuum hose but decided against it.
“Are you sure you have time?”
“Of course, we do,” Trixie assured her. “We’re happy to help. Besides, we’ve been wanting to take a look at the new antiques store, and now you’ve given us the perfect opportunity.
“Yes, well, that’s a nice idea,” Mrs. De Keyser said, though a slight frown marred her expression.
“Have you been in there yet?” Trixie asked.
“Only briefly,” the older woman replied. “I do worry about Mr. Reid. When I rented it to him, I thought the barn would make an ideal store, but…there seems to be very few customers. I don’t know how he makes a living. Still, he pays his rent on time.”
“I’m sure he’s doing fine. He certainly has a nice car,” Trixie observed.
“Things will get busier in the summer,” Honey added reassuringly.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, dear. But all those antiques…”
“Do you like antiques?” Trixie asked. “Honey has loads at her house.”
“Well, I have some of my parents’ things, but I admit, at my age, I like new things. And a lot of what they call antiques, these days, are just things I grew up with. Now, you really should get going. I’m sure your families will be waiting dinner for you.”
“I guess we should get going,” Honey said.
Willy appeared at that moment, scratching at Trixie’s shin. “Oh, sorry, Willy!” Trixie exclaimed. “We’ll take you out before we go.”
The girls quickly donned their jackets, Mrs De Keyser produced Willy’s leash, and the two Bob-Whites hurried out with the dog.
The November afternoon had darkened considerably, and the wind stirred the leaves of the trees that surrounded the little white house. A thick hedge was formed by a line of fir trees, and Willy dragged Honey towards them, validating his mistress’s claim of strength.
“Look! You can see the barn from here.” Trixie pointed towards the shafts of yellow light that spilled from the building next door. A figure passed by the unshaded window.
Trixie grabbed her friend’s arm. “Honey, I think it’s open. Let’s take Willy back and then we have to check it out before we go home.”
It didn’t take long to say their goodbyes and, promising to return in two days, the two girls took their leave.
MAIN NEXT
Author's Notes: Continued thanks to my wonderous Trixie peeps, especially Vivian. She worked on this with much alacrity and I have been shamefully slow in getting it sorted. I can only hope that if people are willing to persist with reading, what I consider, to be the worst book in the entire series, that my changes may allow it to move up a couple of positions. Trixie Belden et all belong to Random house and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
