“It reminds me of our kitchen when I was a little girl,” she told the children. “I did want you to see it, but now I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“Maybe we can help,” Judy offered again.
But Mrs. Riker protested that she had been too kind already.
“I don’t deserve anybody’s kindness,” she added. “My troubles are all my own fault.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Judy objected. “If your pocketbook was stolen from you I would say the thieves were to blame. Do you mind if I tell Peter—”
“Your husband?” Mrs. Riker inquired.
“We help him solve mysteries,” Ricky began, but at a look from Judy, he suddenly fell silent.
“I’m afraid, instead of helping to solve them, you’re making them today,” declared Horace. “You didn’t hear any trees talking, did you, Ricky?”
“Me?” Ricky asked in surprise. “You are making jokes again?”
Muriel turned to Horace wide-eyed through the glasses that always seemed too large for her small face.