Mystery at the Crooked House by Gertrude Chandler Warner Page B

be just the place for it! Don’t you think so, Mrs. McGregor?”
    But Mrs. McGregor made no reply. Her head was bent over her work and she seemed to be lost in a world of her own. Jessie looked over at Henry as if to say Now, this is exactly what I was talking about!
    Violet reached out and put a hand gently on their housekeeper’s arm. “Mrs. McGregor?” she said. “Is anything wrong?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry, Violet,” said Mrs. McGregor. “I wasn’t listening. What were you saying?”
    “Please, Mrs. McGregor,” pleaded Violet, “won’t you tell us what’s troubling you?”
    “Sometimes talking about a problem can help,” added Jessie.
    Just then, Watch came over and put his head in Mrs. McGregor’s lap. He gave a little whimper. “Look!” cried Benny. “Even Watch is worried!”
    “Oh, dear!” Mrs. McGregor scratched Watch behind the ears. “I really didn’t mean to cause such a fuss! The truth is,” she added, “something has been bothering me. But I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do to help.”

    “But haven’t you seen Violet’s swirls? Jessie says the swirls mean she’s helpful,” cried Benny. “We all can be very helpful!”
    “Oh, Benny!” Jessie laughed. “Violet would be helpful even if her handwriting didn’t have a single swirl in it!”
    Mrs. McGregor was quiet for a moment, then she said, “I’ve been racking my brains trying to come up with an answer to a problem. I’m afraid the Crooked House has been on my mind all day.”
    Benny glanced around. “But Grandfather’s house isn’t crooked!”
    Mrs. McGregor shook her head. “I mean the Crooked House at Riddle Lake.”
    The Aldens stared at Mrs. McGregor in bewilderment. They had never heard of a Crooked House at Riddle Lake.
    “It’s my family home,” explained Mrs. McGregor. “My father built it himself, and everything turned out just a little bit crooked. You see, my father had never built anything before then.”
    “I’ll bet he had fun, though,” said Henry, who liked building things.
    “I think my father really did enjoy building our home,” Mrs. McGregor continued. “And we loved all the crooked windows and the crooked doors—and the floor that was on a bit of a slant.” Mrs. McGregor paused for a moment. “My sister Madeline and I inherited the family home after our parents died. That was many years ago. At first, Madeline wanted to sell the Crooked House so she could do a bit of traveling. When we were growing up, she’d always talked of seeing the world. But the truth is, neither of us could bear to part with our family home.”
    Mrs. McGregor went on, “Madeline continued living there instead. And she’s been making a very comfortable living all these years, renting out rooms to folks from the city. Just like our parents did. Riddle Lake really is a wonderful place for a holiday. There’s swimming and hiking and fishing in the summer. And skating and tobogganing and cross-country skiing in the winter.”
    “Wow!” said Henry. “That sure sounds great!”
    Mrs. McGregor let out another long sigh. “Yes, but I’m afraid things haven’t been going very well lately at the Crooked House.”
    “Why not?” asked Violet in surprise.
    “Last year a fancy resort was built at the other end of Riddle Lake,” explained Mrs. McGregor. “Now people seem to prefer the modern Sterling Resort to the old-fashioned comforts of the Crooked House. I’m afraid business has fallen off. My sister says there isn’t enough money to pay the taxes this year.
    “Madeline phoned this morning and asked me to drive up to Riddle Lake for a few days. She thinks it’s time we made a decision about selling the family home. It’ll break our hearts, but there doesn’t seem to be any other choice.” Mrs. McGregor’s eyes clouded. “I’ll leave tomorrow. There’s no point in delaying what must be done. Besides, I haven’t seen Madeline for a while. Not since we made that trip to Oregon