Mystery in the Old Attic Read Free Page B

draw. “Oh, let me see.”
    Carefully, Jessie handed Violet a big book covered in red leather. Violet sat right down in one of the many armchairs in the library and began to look at it. Jessie kept exploring. She saw books written by Charles Dickens, Washington Irving, and Robert Louis Stevenson. She also found books about trees, wildflowers, and rocks and minerals. “Hmm,” she said. “I wish I could find a good mystery.”
    Violet looked up from her book for just a moment. “There are more books on that shelf over there,” she said, pointing.
    Jessie went over to the dusty shelf. It seemed as though the oldest books in the library lay on it. There was a book of Irish poems and riddles and next to it a book of maps that was so old, the yellowed paper tore as soon as Jessie touched it.
    â€œThis was not what I had in mind,” said Jessie as she put down the maps. That was when she noticed another book, a small book with a dark cover, wedged behind the others. Carefully she pulled the little book out and blew the dust off it. The title MY BOOK was engraved in gold letters across the cover. Inside, written in blue ink, were the words: The Diary of Emily Rebecca Taylor, 1900.

CHAPTER 4
    The Diary
    â€œO h, Violet, come here. Look what I found!” cried Jessie.
    â€œWhat?” Violet seemed very reluctant to leave her book, but looked up when Jessie came toward her.
    â€œA diary.” Jessie was already flipping through the pages. Though they were yellow with age, they did not fall apart when Jessie touched them. Violet bent over the book, as excited as Jessie. The handwriting belonged to a young girl who wrote in script. Some of the words were crossed out or smudged from the fountain pen, which made the diary hard to read.

    Brockton, Michigan
    8 November 1900
    This diary was a present from Father for my twelfth birthday. I am going to write in it every week.
    â€œOh, she’s just my age,” said Jessie. She could not believe that a girl who had sat in this library, perhaps in the very chair Violet had just been sitting in, was writing in her diary almost one hundred years ago.
    Today, Father gave me a lovely tea party. All my dolls came, including Samantha, who is very old. I dressed her in a long pink dress with a lace collar.
    Betsy and Ann, my best friends from school, came to the party, too. So did Mother, who felt well enough to come downstairs. That made the party extra special.
    We ate cream cakes and gingerbread and drank real tea with lemon in it. Because it was my birthday, Mother gave us permission to use Grandmother’s special blue-and-white china.
    â€œI wonder if that’s the china we used at lunchtime,” said Jessie. “Emily can tell us so much about this house.”
    Violet nodded as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I can’t believe you found this. Let’s show the others.”
    When Grandfather saw the diary, he held it in his hands and just stared at it. “You know, Emily is the daughter of the couple whose portraits are in the dining room.”
    â€œOh, no, not of the woman who died,” Violet said.
    Grandfather nodded.
    Soon all five Aldens were seated around the kitchen table listening while Jessie read the diary aloud.
    17 November 1900
    Mother is still very weak, so weak there are days she does not leave her bed. I visit her when I come home from school. We still laugh and talk, but I can tell she is very tired. She has been teaching me to write sonnets and riddles. Mother loves poetry. Today we wrote a riddle together about a clock. Here it is:
    I run around in circles, yet my path is always straight.
    I can be quiet or noisy; sometimes I am late.
    Of size and shape, I have many. I come in circles or squares.
    And some, seeing me sit so calmly, think I have no cares.
    If I run slower or faster, things do not work as smoothly.
    So I try to be on time not to upset things unduly.
    Can you guess what I