Frognapped by Angie Sage

Horace climb in. He looked really grumpy—you could tell by the way he plonked himself down right on top of his treasure chest and didn’t say anything at all.
    Aunt Tabby dropped Sir Horace’s arms into the van with a clang and said, “Araminta,I don’t know how Sir Horace got into the ditch, or how his arms fell off, and I don’t think I want to know either. But why do I think it has something to do with you? And as for how the shark suit got here….” Aunt Tabby shook her head and slammed the doors shut.
    I felt like saying that I didn’t know why she thought it had anything to do with me either. But I didn’t. Sometimes it is better not to argue with Aunt Tabby about things like that. Especially when she is almost right.
    Sir Horace stayed grumpy all the way home. He sat on the treasure chest without even noticing it and did nothing but complain. He grumbled about his arms being on the wrong way, even though we put them back really carefully; he moaned about the mudand the leaves inside him; and he went on and on about rust. But at last I got my chance.
    â€œSir Horace,” I said. “What are you sitting on?”
    â€œSomething rusty, I expect,” he said gloomily. “Just my luck. Rust is catching, you know.”
    â€œWe know,” said Wanda grumpily.
    And then Sir Horace’s head drooped and he started snoring. And when Sir Horace snores, there is no way you can wake him up. You just have to stuff your fingers in your ears and sing very loudly to drown out the noise. Which is what Wanda and I did. All the way home.
    Â 
    â€œThat was nice singing, dear,” said Brenda as she let us out of the van. Brenda thinks everything that Wanda does is nice, unlike AuntTabby, who thinks nothing I do is nice at all.
    Aunt Tabby was not pleased about having to lift Sir Horace out of the van as well as his treasure chest, even though I told her how important it was. We propped Sir Horace up beside the big clock in the hall, and he suddenly woke up. The first thing he saw was the chest.
    â€œMy treasure!” he said, and his voice had a really happy sound to it. “Miss Spookie, Miss Wizzard, you have been as good as your word. How could I ever have doubted you?”
    â€œThe Spookie Detective Agency always keeps its word, Sir Horace,” I said.
    â€œYou mean the Wizzard Detective agency,” Wanda butted in.
    â€œNo I do not,” I told her.
    â€œYes you do,” said Wanda. “Who found thefrogs? Who solved the mystery of the shark? Who got Nosy Nora to let us have the treasure chest?”
    â€œI did,” I said.
    â€œNo you didn’t— I did.”
    â€œMay I suggest,” boomed Sir Horace, who sounded much better now that he was back inside his armor, “may I suggest a compromise. The Spookie-Wizzard Detective Agency has a very good sound to it.”
    â€œOkay.” I sighed an Aunt Tabby sigh. “The Spookie-Wizzard Detective Agency it is.”
    â€œWizzard-Spookie Detective Agency sounds better,” said Wanda.
    â€œSometimes,” Sir Horace told her, “it is best to stop while you are ahead. I would advise that at this particular moment, Miss Wizzard.”
    â€œAll right, Sir Horace.” Wanda smiled. “Areyou going to open your treasure chest now?”
    Sir Horace bent down with a horrible grinding noise, unscrewed his right foot, and took out a big brass key. Sir Horace keeps allhis keys in his feet. It’s an odd place to keep keys, but I suppose he always knows where to find them.

    The key turned easily and Sir Horace lifted up the lid. Wanda and I peered in; we were both really excited at the thought of seeing real buried treasure.
    It was a big disappointment. It was nothing but moldy old papers, a battered whistle, and some funny little leather bags. It was very boring.
    â€œPooh,” said Wanda, holding her nose. “It smells horrible.”
    It did. It smelled