Bus Station Mystery Read Online Free PDF

down by the river and put up stakes three feet apart to make a square. Then we counted all the different plants inside the square.”
    A woman asked, “You found all these different plants in that small space?”
    The boy nodded. “We want to show what’s lost when something like the paint factory spoils wild land.” He looked right at the Aldens when he said that as if he thought they were going to spoil the land.
    “That’s a good exhibit, but that boy is not at all friendly,” Jessie said. “Let’s move on.”
    The Aldens walked over to a collection of match-book covers. Violet said, “I guess people collect anything. There are matchbooks from every state and some foreign countries.”
    “And here’s a collection of pins,” said Jessie. “Imagine collecting pins!”
    Violet replied, “They are a good thing to collect because they don’t take up much room.”
    Henry called Benny over to see model planes. Then Benny caught sight of an ice cream stand. “Let’s have ice cream cones,” he said. “I always choose chocolate.”
    “How can you be hungry after all that lunch?” Jessie asked.
    “Always room for an ice cream cone,” returned Benny.
    “I wouldn’t mind one myself,” said Henry, feeling for his wallet.
    Soon all the Aldens were enjoying ice cream cones. “Let’s see that exhibit,” said Benny, pointing to a display set up in the corner. “The sign says ‘Pickett’s Perfect Paints.’ Look at the crowd!”
    As they started over, Benny frowned. Pickett’s Paints—that was the name on the envelope he had handed Frank. The Oakdale bus driver had given Frank a package for the Pickett factory.
    The exhibit was interesting and bright. There were little toy houses painted in different colors. There were pieces of wood painted with Pickett paints and left out in the sun to weather. They showed how well the paint lasted and how bright it stayed.
    The man in charge of the exhibit was trying to show how paint was made. He explained what made blue paint blue and red paint red.
    A woman in the crowd said, “Mr. Pickett, just listen to me!”
    So this was Mr. Pickett, the Aldens thought.
    The woman continued. “I don’t care what you put in your paints. Your factory is pouring all that horrible waste into a public river. It isn’t your river. It belongs to the town.”
    “It’s our river,” a girl said.
    An old man asked, “Where are the fish? We used to get fine fish from the river. And have a good time fishing, too.”
    A boy said, “Your old factory smells up the country for miles.”
    But a young man said, “Give Mr. Pickett a chance to talk. He knows his business. A big factory can be good for people around here.”
    Mr. Pickett looked happy to see at least one friendly face. He said, “Yes! I have a hundred workers in my paint factory. That means they earn money to take care of a hundred families. It means money to spend. I pay taxes for your schools. I’m a good neighbor to all of you!”
    Suddenly there was a noise and everyone looked around to see what was happening. Some people began to laugh. Others shouted, “Go home!”
    The Aldens stood on tiptoe to see what the excitement was about. It was a surprise. The two boys from Plainville Junction were pushing through the crowd toward the paint exhibit. They were waving signs.
    One sign said, “SAVE OUR RIVER. DON’T POLLUTE!” The other read “NATURE IS BETTER THAN PAINT.”
    Some men and women clapped. Someone said, “Those boys are brave to do that. I wouldn’t have dared do anything like that.”
    Mr. Pickett stared at the boys and their signs. Benny wondered if he knew who they were. The boys never looked right at him. They waved their signs back and forth.
    “Not fair! Not fair!” Mr. Pickett shouted angrily. “You can’t picket me!”
    For a minute it looked as if the paint exhibit was going to be smashed. The man in charge of the hobby fair came running over.
    “All right!” the manager shouted. “Some of you