Horror at the Haunted House by Peg Kehret

It’s octagonal shaped and it has fairies and a bridge.”
    Mrs. Whittacker looked where Ellen was pointing. Her hands flew to her face and she drew in her breath sharply. “You’re right,” she said. “I know which bowl you mean.”
    “The purple people from Jupiter must have come,” said Corey.
    “It’s the bowl I held that first night,” Ellen said. “That’s why I remembered it.”
    “Wow,” said Corey. “How could they steal a bowl when there were so many people in here?”
    “Not everybody who goes through the haunted house bothers to look at the museum displays in here,” Ellen said. “Maybe one person was in here all alone and just went under the rope and helped themselves.”
    “Or maybe,” said Corey, “it wasn’t the purple people. Maybe it was a gang of thieves and they’ve had it planned for a long time. One of them pretended to be with the Historical Society and he told all the people that this room was closed tonight and then he stood guard while the other thieves went in and . . .”
    “We mustn’t jump to conclusions,” Mrs. Whittacker said. “We don’t know for sure that the bowl was stolen.”
    “It’s gone, isn’t it?” Corey said.
    “I must call Agnes,” Mrs. Whittacker said. She hurried through the upper kitchen to her office, with Ellen and Corey following her. Ellen knew her parents were probably waiting outside by now to take her and Corey home, but she didn’t want to leave in the middle of a mystery.
    As they entered Mrs. Whittacker’s office, Ellen said, “Please don’t tell Agnes that I’m the one who discovered that the bowl was stolen.”
    “Why not?” Corey said. “You’re practically a detective. The police will interview you. You’ll probably get your picture in the paper.”
    “I don’t want my picture in the paper,” Ellen said. “Not for this.”
    Mrs. Whittacker dialed the phone and waited. “Agnes? Oneof the bowls is gone. The small octagonal Fairylustre; the one with the castle and bridge.” She was quiet for a few moments, listening. Then she sighed, clearly relieved. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I was afraid someone had stolen it. I guess I forgot to tell you that we aren’t supposed to remove it from the mansion. Yes. Yes, I can understand that. Well, I hope I didn’t wake you; I realize it’s late to call, especially when you aren’t feeling well.”
    As Mrs. Whittacker continued to talk, Ellen quit listening, since the bowl was obviously safe. Instead, she thought about the ghost. Lydia must have wanted her to notice that the bowl was gone. That’s why she motioned for Ellen to go to that end of the display. Maybe that’s what she wanted last night, too, when she tried to get Ellen to follow her out the front door.
    If that’s so, Ellen thought, this might be the end of the haunting. I discovered the missing bowl, it’s been accounted for, and all is well. Maybe I won’t see Lydia anymore.
    Relief flooded her. Even though she had stood up to Lydia earlier that night, she had secretly dreaded going to sleep again, for fear she would awaken to a cold wind on her face.
    “What did she say?” Corey asked, as soon as Mrs. Whittacker hung up.
    “She has it. She took it to her studio to repair a tiny chip on the inside of the rim. She took it home on Saturday, repaired it on Sunday, and planned to bring it back today. She hadn’t thought to tell me, since she expected the piece to be back in place before I arrived tonight. When she got sick, of course, the bowl did not get returned.”
    “I didn’t see a chip,” Ellen said.
    “Neither did I. That’s why we’re so fortunate to have Agnes. She notices everything, including the smallest flaws. And withher special training, she’s able to do repairs even on old pieces. She restored a china bowl for me, one that belonged to my mother, and it’s impossible to tell where she did it. The collection is in good hands.”
    “Rats,” said Corey. “I was hoping it