The next morning, Benny stepped out of the changing room and announced, “I’m growing like a weed!”
Violet looked over at Benny. “What in the world . . .?”
“What happened?” asked Jessie.
Benny scratched his head. “I guess I sprouted up last night.”
Sure enough, Benny’s pants were now at least five inches too short.
“I think you’ve got the wrong pants on, Benny,” Violet guessed.
Jessie nodded. “Those are way too short.”
Benny shook his head. “See?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the thaumatrope Sharon had given him. “These are my pants. I put this in my pocket yesterday.”
When Henry came into the room, everyone cried out in surprise. Benny wasn’t the only one wearing pants that were too short!
“What . . .?” Benny couldn’t believe his eyes.
For a long moment, the two brothers stood staring at each other. Then they suddenly burst into laughter.
“We sure look funny!” Benny exclaimed.
“You can say that again!” admitted Henry, looking down at his own too-short pants.
“Hmmm.” Jessie was kneeling on the floor, inspecting the bottom of Benny’s pants. “Looks like somebody took the hem up another five inches.”
“Are you sure?” Violet hurried over to take a look for herself.
“See?” Jessie lifted the hem. “This isn’t the careful stitching that Miss Pennink did yesterday.” And Violet agreed.
Benny looked from Jessie to Henry. “You mean somebody played a joke on us?”
“A practical joke,” Henry said with a quick nod.
The children heard a gasp and whirled around. It was Miss Pennink standing in the doorway.
“I see Horace has been busy again,” she said in a whispery voice.
Jake North suddenly appeared behind Miss Pennink. “What’s going on?” he asked. When he caught sight of the pants Henry and Benny were wearing, his dark eyebrows shot up.
Miss Pennink put a hand over her heart. “I simply must sit down,” she said.
With some help from Jake, she made her way over to a chair.
“Are you all right, Miss Pennink?” Violet’s brown eyes were wide with alarm.
“I just need a moment to recover from the shock, my dear.” Miss Pennink smiled a little, but still seemed upset.
Just then, Jessie caught sight of Jake’s camera. “Oh, are you here to take more photographs? I could get Gwen if—”
Jake broke in before she could finish. “I just stopped by to see if I left my sunglasses here yesterday,” he explained. “But maybe I will get a picture of Henry and Benny.” And with that, Jake snapped a photo.
It seemed very odd to Jessie. Why would Jake want a picture of them wearing pants that didn’t fit?
“So what happened?” Jake asked, his lips curling up into a smile. “Did your pants shrink in the laundry demonstration yesterday?”
“Somebody did this on purpose!” Benny blurted out.
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Miss Pennink. “This is Horace’s handiwork. He won’t put up with it, you know. He just won’t stand for this outrage. To be ignored in one’s own home is . . . is . . . well, it simply isn’t right!”
A little later, when Gwen was pouring Miss Pennink a cup of tea, she said, “You don’t really think that, do you, Miss Pennink? You can’t believe a ghost is responsible for these practical jokes.”
Sharon, who was sitting beside Miss Pennink, spoke up first. “We both believe it!”
Gwen frowned. “Sharon, please!” She put a basket of blueberry muffins on the table, then turned and gave her younger sister a warning look. “You’re not helping matters.”
Jake pulled up a chair. “It is hard to believe a ghost could be doing these things,” he said. “And yet . . .”
The Aldens looked at one another. They all wondered why Jake was so eager to believe the house was haunted.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” said Benny, reaching for a muffin.
“Well, if that’s true,” replied Sharon, “then there’s only one other possibility.” And she looked at the Aldens.
“What do you mean?” Henry wanted to know.
Sharon narrowed her green eyes. “Well, it seems to me these practical jokes didn’t start until the four of you arrived,” she said in an icy voice. “Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”
“What a terrible thing to say, Sharon!” exclaimed Gwen.
“I’m not accusing anyone,” Sharon replied. And she gave her long blond hair a toss. “I’m simply stating the facts.”
Violet couldn’t believe it. “You think we’re the copycats?”
“Aren’t you forgetting a few things?” Jessie asked, looking Sharon straight in the eye.
“Such as . . . ?”
“Well, for starters, we don’t have a key to the farmhouse.”
Henry added, “Or a motive.”
“Making trouble is all the motive some people need,” Sharon shot back.
Miss Pennink reached out and put a hand on Sharon’s arm. “Please, we mustn’t accuse one another. This is Horace’s doing. I know because this practical joke is exactly like one Horace played when he was a young boy.”
“You’ve had a shock, Miss Pennink,” said Gwen. “Are you sure you want to talk about this?”
Nodding, Miss Pennink took a sip of tea. “I must talk about my great-great-grandfather, since no one else will.” She took a breath. “It happened back when Horace wasn’t much bigger than Benny. His brother Oscar was about a year younger. As the story goes, Oscar was quite small for his age, and for some reason he’d gotten it into his head that he’d never grow any bigger. Well, Horace couldn’t bear to see his brother unhappy, so one night he—”
“Shortened his brother’s pants?” guessed Benny, who was so interested in the conversation, he still hadn’t taken a bite of his muffin.
“That’s exactly what he did, Benny!” said Miss Pennink. “In fact, Horace kept this up every night for a week. He shortened those pants a little more every time. They say when Horace was finished, his younger brother was certain he’d sprouted right up! And let me tell you something,” she added, “Oscar never worried about his size again.”
Henry asked, “Did Oscar ever find out that it was a practical joke?”
“It wasn’t until years later that he found out, Henry,” said Miss Pennink. “They say Horace and Oscar had a good laugh over it. Of course, by then Oscar had grown to be every bit the size of his brothers!”
Sharon rubbed her arms. “It gives me a chill to think of Horace going around playing practical jokes all over again.”
Nobody said anything for a moment. It was Jake who finally broke the silence. “So that’s where they went!” he said.
Everyone looked at him. Then they followed his gaze to the sunglasses on the windowsill.
“I must have put my sunglasses down when I was having a cup of coffee yesterday,” Jake told them. “I figured they’d be here or at my uncle Draper’s.” As the Aldens passed the sunglasses to him, Jake thanked Gwen for the tea, then went on his way.
No sooner had he gone than the bell over the front door jangled as the first visitors arrived. Gwen quickly put the teacups into the sink and rushed away with Sharon. Then Miss Pennink disappeared into the changing room.
“I guess we shouldn’t be all that surprised,” said Henry, who was standing still while Violet lowered the hem on his pants. “About Draper Mills being Jake’s uncle, I mean.”
“That’s true,” agreed Jessie, snipping away at the stitching on Benny’s pants. “Jake did mention that his uncle was a poet.”
Benny nodded. “And Draper Mills writes poetry.” He took a bite of his blueberry muffin.
“Well, that means we can rule Jake out as a suspect,” Henry realized.
But Violet wasn’t so sure. She thought about it for a moment and then said, “Hmm.”
Benny looked over at Violet. “He was only here last night to visit his uncle,” he pointed out.
“That’s right,” said Henry. “There’s no reason for us to suspect him of being the copycat.”
“I suppose,” said Violet, but she didn’t sound convinced. |