Mystery of the Runaway Ghost Read Online Free PDF

where’s the next riddle?” Benny wanted to know.
    The Aldens looked at one another. How were they ever going to solve such a strange mystery?

CHAPTER 5
A Pile of Rubbish?
    The Aldens found Fran sitting in her workroom, a basket of flowers in front of her. Newspapers had been spread over a long table, and there was a thick phone book nearby. When Jessie tugged the old photographs from her pocket, Fran’s face broke into a smile.
    “Well, you’ve made my day, Jessie. I knew I’d put these pictures somewhere for safekeeping, but I’d forgotten exactly where.” She slipped the envelope into her apron pocket with a happy sigh.
    “And I found the old croquet set,” Benny reminded everyone.
    Fran turned to him with a warm smile. “That was very helpful, too, Benny.”
    The Aldens glanced around the sunny workroom. Metal file cabinets lined one wall. Wooden shelves filled with neatly-labeled shoe boxes stood against another wall. By the curtained window, there was a large desk cluttered with papers. In the corner, half hidden by a potted plant, phone books were piled high.
    “I’ve never seen so many phone books!” Benny’s eyes were wide.
    Fran threw her head back and laughed. “Folks in town save them for me, Benny. The pages are perfect for pressing flowers. They soak up all the moisture.” She looked around at the Aldens. “Anybody interested in pressing flowers? I’d be happy to show you how.”
    “Oh, yes!” said Violet, her eyes shining. The others nodded eagerly.
    Fran handed out wicker baskets. “For starters, you’ll need to gather some flowers,” she said. “If you see anything in the garden that strikes your fancy, just help yourselves. Oh, and don’t forget about wildflowers,” she added. “Even weeds have charm.”
    “I think I’ll pick buttercups,” Benny decided as they headed for the door. “They’re my favorites.”
    Outside, Jessie and Henry followed the stepping-stone path through the garden, while Violet and Benny searched for wildflowers on the banks of the creek. Their baskets were soon bursting with summer colors. Fran nodded approvingly when they came back into the room.
    “That’s the ticket!” she said. “You’ve got a real mix of colors there.”
    The Aldens sat down at the table. Fran showed them how to spread the flowers out on the newspapers, then carefully place them, spaced apart, on the pages of a phone book.
    After they’d been working for a while, Benny looked up. “This is so cool,” he said.
    Henry agreed. He was holding a morning glory under Fran’s magnifying glass. “The flowers are all so different.”

    “That’s true, Henry,” Fran said. “As Reese would say, there are no boring bits. Every leaf and tendril is special.”
    “Oh, does Reese press flowers, too?” Violet asked.
    “Yes, I’ve been teaching her everything I know.” Fran’s lips curled up in a smile. “She really is the dearest child.”
    Jessie was wondering about something. “How did you get started, Fran? Pressing flowers, I mean.”
    “It’s a family tradition, Jessie.” Fran gestured to the framed verses hanging along the back wall. “Those were my great-great-grandmother Anne’s creations. She didn’t write the verses, but she decorated each one with a border of pressed flowers. Anne loved making everything beautiful. Apparently she even painted buttercups all over the walls of the old mudroom.”
    “The old mudroom?” Jessie gave Fran a questioning look.
    “It used to be just off the kitchen,” Fran explained. “A place for dirty boots and coats. After Anne decorated it, everybody called it the Buttercup Room. But it was torn down long before my time.”
    Jessie glanced at Henry. If Anne pressed flowers, wasn’t it possible she’d decorated that mysterious box? It was clear she loved buttercups. Was Lottie right? Was it all just a parlor game? That would explain why they hadn’t found any clues in the trunk. They were probably long gone — just like the