critically.
Now Mrs. Turner came over. “I bet that picture fell out when the envelopes got all mixed up.”
“Mixed up?” Henry repeated. “What happened?”
“The man who makes the photo deliveries came at a bad time this morning,” Mr. Kirby explained. “The store was crowded with people and other deliveries. The photo lab man tripped and dropped the box.”
“Envelopes flew everywhere,” Mrs. Turner put in, shaking her head. “Mr. Cooke would never leave boxes in the aisle.”
Mr. Kirby frowned at her. “Everyone pitched in and helped sort out the envelopes. Several customers had come in to pick up their photographs.”
“The picture probably fell out of another envelope,” Jessie suggested. “And that person hasn’t picked up his or her pictures yet.”
Mrs. Turner shook her head. “Nope. The bin where we keep the photo deliveries is empty. Violet, you were the last person to pick up photographs from this delivery.”
“Then we don’t know who lost this.” Violet tucked the mysterious photograph into her own envelope. “If anyone reports a missing picture, please let me know.”
“I’m sure no one will claim that dull picture,” Mr. Kirby said, turning away.
“Thanks anyway,” Henry said. When they left the store, he added, “Boy, that guy’s sure not much help. I’ll be glad when Mr. Cooke comes back.”
Jessie glanced back through the window. Mr. Kirby was dialing the phone again.
“He couldn’t wait to get us out of there,” she said. “I guess he didn’t want us to hear his phone conversation.”
“I don’t think he likes kids,” said Benny as they crossed the square to the town hall building.
Henry agreed. “I think you’re right, Benny. Mr. Kirby is one of those grown-ups who is impatient around kids. Like nothing we say or do is important. Some grown-ups are like that.”
“I hope you don’t mean me,” said a cheerful voice behind them. “Am I one of those awful grown-ups?”
Benny recognized the young man first. “Mr. Bass!” he exclaimed. “You’re not awful!”
Rick Bass pretended to wipe his forehead. “Whew! For a minute there, I was worried you thought I was an old grouch.”
Jessie laughed. Rick Bass could never be an old grouch. He was too young, for one thing. And he was always smiling. His chestnut hair was the same color as the leaves blowing across the square today.
“When will the museum be open?” she asked him.
Rick shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his denim jacket. “When I was hired, I thought I’d have the Greenfield Historical Museum open in a month. I’ve been here three months and I’m still digging my way through the artifacts.”
“The art — what?” asked Benny.
“Artifacts are objects. Anything that is part of Greenfield’s history,” replied Rick. “It can be something really old, like a pewter cup from the seventeen-hundreds. Or something not so old, like the first phone book.”
Just then Grandfather joined them. “Mr. Bass,” he said. “How is the museum coming along?”
“As I was telling your grandchildren, it’s a bigger job than I thought it would be,” he replied.
James Alden nodded. “People have been donating items to the historical society for many years. I imagine there’s quite a pile of stuff in the town hall basement.”
“Yes, sir,” Rick agreed. “But I love rooting through old things. You’d be surprised at some discoveries I’ve made. One is very interesting.”
Benny was instantly curious. “What is it?”
“Tell us!” Violet urged.
“Not today,” said Grandfather. “We must be going.”
“We’ll be back here tomorrow,” Benny informed Rick. “Will you come see us?”
Rick made a thumbs-up sign. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
Benny hated being kept in suspense. “Can you give us a little hint?”
Rick smiled mysteriously. “This town is full of secrets!”
CHAPTER 3
The Hidden Message
W e need a new mystery,” Benny said. The four Alden
Now Mrs. Turner came over. “I bet that picture fell out when the envelopes got all mixed up.”
“Mixed up?” Henry repeated. “What happened?”
“The man who makes the photo deliveries came at a bad time this morning,” Mr. Kirby explained. “The store was crowded with people and other deliveries. The photo lab man tripped and dropped the box.”
“Envelopes flew everywhere,” Mrs. Turner put in, shaking her head. “Mr. Cooke would never leave boxes in the aisle.”
Mr. Kirby frowned at her. “Everyone pitched in and helped sort out the envelopes. Several customers had come in to pick up their photographs.”
“The picture probably fell out of another envelope,” Jessie suggested. “And that person hasn’t picked up his or her pictures yet.”
Mrs. Turner shook her head. “Nope. The bin where we keep the photo deliveries is empty. Violet, you were the last person to pick up photographs from this delivery.”
“Then we don’t know who lost this.” Violet tucked the mysterious photograph into her own envelope. “If anyone reports a missing picture, please let me know.”
“I’m sure no one will claim that dull picture,” Mr. Kirby said, turning away.
“Thanks anyway,” Henry said. When they left the store, he added, “Boy, that guy’s sure not much help. I’ll be glad when Mr. Cooke comes back.”
Jessie glanced back through the window. Mr. Kirby was dialing the phone again.
“He couldn’t wait to get us out of there,” she said. “I guess he didn’t want us to hear his phone conversation.”
“I don’t think he likes kids,” said Benny as they crossed the square to the town hall building.
Henry agreed. “I think you’re right, Benny. Mr. Kirby is one of those grown-ups who is impatient around kids. Like nothing we say or do is important. Some grown-ups are like that.”
“I hope you don’t mean me,” said a cheerful voice behind them. “Am I one of those awful grown-ups?”
Benny recognized the young man first. “Mr. Bass!” he exclaimed. “You’re not awful!”
Rick Bass pretended to wipe his forehead. “Whew! For a minute there, I was worried you thought I was an old grouch.”
Jessie laughed. Rick Bass could never be an old grouch. He was too young, for one thing. And he was always smiling. His chestnut hair was the same color as the leaves blowing across the square today.
“When will the museum be open?” she asked him.
Rick shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his denim jacket. “When I was hired, I thought I’d have the Greenfield Historical Museum open in a month. I’ve been here three months and I’m still digging my way through the artifacts.”
“The art — what?” asked Benny.
“Artifacts are objects. Anything that is part of Greenfield’s history,” replied Rick. “It can be something really old, like a pewter cup from the seventeen-hundreds. Or something not so old, like the first phone book.”
Just then Grandfather joined them. “Mr. Bass,” he said. “How is the museum coming along?”
“As I was telling your grandchildren, it’s a bigger job than I thought it would be,” he replied.
James Alden nodded. “People have been donating items to the historical society for many years. I imagine there’s quite a pile of stuff in the town hall basement.”
“Yes, sir,” Rick agreed. “But I love rooting through old things. You’d be surprised at some discoveries I’ve made. One is very interesting.”
Benny was instantly curious. “What is it?”
“Tell us!” Violet urged.
“Not today,” said Grandfather. “We must be going.”
“We’ll be back here tomorrow,” Benny informed Rick. “Will you come see us?”
Rick made a thumbs-up sign. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
Benny hated being kept in suspense. “Can you give us a little hint?”
Rick smiled mysteriously. “This town is full of secrets!”
CHAPTER 3
The Hidden Message
W e need a new mystery,” Benny said. The four Alden
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