The Riddle of Penncroft Farm by Dorothea Jensen

watching,” she said airily, playing with the ring on her chain.
    I shook my head in disgust. “You girls always have some excuse when you’re beaten,” I declared.
    She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “Look, Lars, there’s no reason for you to have a chip on your shoulder.”
    â€œThat’s easy for
you
to say.
You
don’t have to move.
You
don’t have to make new friends.”
    â€œI certainly don’t!” She whirled and ran toward the house.
    I felt like kicking myself. Instead, I tore off after her, but by the time I came around the barn, she was already in the van. Her parents were outside talking to Aunt Cass.
    â€œOh, there you are, George. Just in time to say good-bye.” She turned back to speak to the Hargreaveses. “Thanks again for coming over. I needed signatures of someone outside the family; although, loosely speaking, you’re in the family.”
    â€œWe tenth cousins are always happy to help, Cass. But shouldn’t you get a lawyer to read it?” asked Mr. Hargreaves.
    â€œNo. Ebenezer Bank told me it was perfectly legal if it’s signed by two witnesses, and even they don’t have to read it. I have an idea. Why don’t you come to our party tonight? I’m sure Sandra and Erik would like to see you, and Lars would certainly have a better time with Patience than with grown-ups.”
    I glanced at Pat to see if she understood what Aunt Cass was talking about. My mom was always telling me to be more patient, but how was that better than being with grown-ups?
    Pat looked as confused as I was, if not more so.
    â€œI’m sorry, Cass,” said Mrs. Hargreaves, “but we have a meeting to go to, and Pat has other plans. Otherwise we would’ve loved to come. Wouldn’t we, honey?”
    Pat gave a minimal nod. Her parents quickly got in the van, and they drove off.
    After they were out of sight, Aunt Cass looked at me. “Well, George,” she said, “what do you want to dress up as tonight?”
    â€œI’m too old to wear a costume for Halloween,” I answered.
    â€œNonsense. If
I’m
still young enough to do it, so are you!”
    She put her hand on my arm and gave it a little squeeze. “Don’t worry, George, you won’t look any sillier than the rest of us.”
    â€œI don’t wear costumes. Period,” I said dully.
    She let my elbow drop. “Okay. I give up. I’m sure we’ll still have a good time. We’ll pull out all the stops!”
    She wasn’t kidding. We did actually pull out all the stops—on her pump organ, that is. We pulled all the organ’s knobs out until it was so loud the wavy old glass windowpanes rattled. As I pumped and she played, I told Aunt Cass about the Nautilus exercise machine/submarine pun I’d thought of the first time we’d met—only a few days before, but it seemed like a lifetime. She liked my joke, and proved it by playing the Captain Nemo piece. Duddle-la . . . deedle deedle deet deeeeee.
    My mother, rigged out as Mae West, came and tapped me on the shoulder. “Do you have to play that organ so loud? It’s deafening!”
    â€œDon’t be a party pooper, Sandra,” Aunt Cass said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’m sure Mae West never was.”
    Mom pointed at Cass’s old black dress. “Judge Bank will be here any minute, and you’re not even in costume yet!”
    â€œAh, but I am! I only need my makeup and hat to be ready,” Aunt Cass said. She peered at me. “I told Ebenezer not to come without a costume. I don’t think much of a man who’s too proud to put on silly clothes once in a while; there’s nothing like a little foolishness to take one’s pride down a peg or two.”
    â€œWhat?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable.
    â€œThat’s just an expression, honey,” Mom explained. “To take