Free The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road by Julie Campbell

future projects. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need help.”
    “Thanks, Mr. Crider,” Trixie said. “I’ll remember your offer!”

    After school, the seven Bob-Whites met in front of the principal’s office, where the school custodian had already set up a table and chairs for the sign-up.
    Jim, Brian, Dan, and Mart divided up the posters and quickly decided which territory each should cover. Brian had driven his jalopy to school that morning, and Jim had the Bob-White station wagon, so they were to cover the shops and businesses farthest from the school. Dan Mangan would take places closest to the school, while Mart put posters up in the hallways of the school itself.
    By the time the boys left on their rounds, a number of students had already begun to gather around the sign-up table, thanks to an announcement that had been made over the PA system that afternoon.
    Time and again for the next hour, Honey, Trixie, and Di explained to eager students how the bikeathon would work:
    “Just take one of these cards and fill in your own name and address. Then take the card to all your neighbors, friends, and relatives, and ask them if they’d be willing to pledge a certain amount of money for each mile you ride—say, five or ten cents. Have them fill in their name and address where it says ’sponsor,’ along with the amount they want to pledge per mile.
    “We’ll have a table set up right here again next Wednesday so that we can collect your cards and hand out more. After the bikeathon, we’ll call all the people who signed your cards, telling them how many miles you rode and how much they owe. Then they’ll send the money to the school, in care of the art department. That’s all there is to it!” Trixie was in the middle of explaining the bikeathon for the umpteenth time when she spotted Ben Riker and his friends walking up to the table.
    Oh, woe, Trixie thought. I hope they don’t make any trouble.
    The boys paused a short distance from the table and watched silently for a moment. Although they said nothing, the smirks on their faces made it clear that they were not about to sign up for the ride or pledge any money for any of the riders.
    “You know, guys,” Jerry Vanderhoef said finally, “that isn’t such a bad idea.” His friends looked surprised, but he continued. “I could use some extra spending money, couldn’t you? Maybe we should have a bikeathon, too. We could ask for contributions to our favorite charity.”
    “Yeah—us!” Mike Larson agreed.
    “That’s right,” Bill Wright added. “We could call ourselves ’The Society for the Preservation of Wimpy’s Hamburgers.’ How’s that?”
    “There’s just one problem with that idea, chums,” Ben Riker said. “This bikeathon is being run by one of Sleepyside’s most illustrious detectives, Supersleuth Trixie Belden. If she got word that you guys were planning to raise money for a cause that wasn’t worthwhile, she’d track you down and have you thrown in the slammer. And I don’t think that dear Miss Trixie would consider raising money for your after-school hamburgers very worthwhile.”
    Trixie felt her face burning with embarrassment as the boys kept up their banter. She wanted desperately to say something to the boys, to make them go away, but she remembered how much more miserable she’d been during her brief fight with Honey and resolved to hold her tongue.
    Trixie sneaked a look at her friend to see how Honey was reacting to the taunts of Ben and his friends. Honey was explaining the sign-up process to a couple of students. She was trying to look as though she didn’t hear what Ben was saying, but she wasn’t succeeding. She, too, was flushed with embarrassment, and her usually tranquil-looking face was drawn and pinched.
    She’s really suffering, Trixie thought. For the first time, Trixie fully realized how hard the situation was for Honey to cope with. Honey felt sympathy for Ben because she knew all too well how lonely