“Oh!” Ms. Sweeting blinked a few times. She fumbled with one of her earrings. Then she folded and unfolded her hands.

  “We’re wondering if that old argument is still going on,” said Jessie.

  “And we’re wondering if you are the person who left a note on the shop door,” said Violet. “We think it might have something to do with a break-in at the shop.”

  Ms. Sweeting gave a big sigh. “You always were sharp, Jessie,” she said. “I should have known you children would figure it out. I might as well tell you the rest.”

  Ms. Sweeting shook her head. Her dangling earrings made little tinkling sounds. “A couple of years ago, I did some research into my family,” she said. “I learned that I come from a long line of people interested in clock making. That didn’t surprise me. I love to tinker with clocks and watches. I also found the connection between Mr. Muldaur and myself. So the next time I went to his shop, I looked around for anything that might belong to our family. When I saw the mantel clock he had, I took a good long look at it. That was when I realized that it had been made by my great-grandmother, Melissa Muldaur, who became Melissa Sweeting by marriage.”

  Ms. Sweeting sat up straight on the bench. “That was also the moment our argument began.”

  “You thought the clock belonged to your side of the family, not Mr. Muldaur’s, right?” asked Jessie.

  “Yes,” said Ms. Sweeting. “I thought he should give me the clock, but he wouldn’t. He said it belonged to the Muldaurs, not to the Sweetings. Oh, we had many an argument over the months! It took such a long time, but finally he gave in. He told me he would let me have the clock.”

  Ms. Sweeting looked back toward Main Street and the antique shop. “I remember that day. His dog kept barking at me. When we finally stopped arguing, the dog sat down, quiet as a mouse.”

  Benny nodded. “Mitzy wouldn’t like people fighting with her owner. That must be why she growled at you when we passed you in the park.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Ms. Sweeting said.

  “But Mr. Muldaur never gave you the clock,” said Violet.

  “That’s right,” said Ms. Sweeting. “He had agreed to meet me. I waited and waited in the park that evening…but he never came. I lost patience after that.”

  “Did you know that he got hurt and was in the hospital?” asked Henry. “He was planning to meet you. But he couldn’t be there.”

  “No, I had no idea,” said Ms. Sweeting. She looked surprised by the news. “But why didn’t he try to reach me when he felt better?”

  “He bumped his head and couldn’t remember things,” said Benny.

  Ms. Sweeting looked out over the park, taking the information in. “And all this time, I thought he had betrayed the family. It’s a bad feeling when someone promises to do a thing and they never do it.”

  “You got really angry with him after that, didn’t you?” asked Violet.

  Ms. Sweeting nodded. “But if what you children are saying is true,” she said, “I wish I hadn’t gotten so angry. I didn’t know Mr. Muldaur was sick. I only made things worse. I’m sorry for all of that.”

  Henry shifted on his seat. “I’ve been wondering something. That time we first saw you at the shop, were you looking for the clock?”

  “Yes,” said Ms. Sweeting. “I waited till Mr. Muldaur left, then I went in. I thought no one would be there. But you children surprised me.”

  “And the night of the break-in,” said Violet, “it was you who took apart the lock, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” said Ms. Sweeting. “I looked everywhere for that clock but couldn’t find it.”

  “That’s because it was at our house that night!” said Benny.

  “So that’s where it was! I thought for sure I had just missed it,” said Ms. Sweeting. She stood up. “You know, I think it’s time I speak with Mr. Muldaur. I want to get everything out in the open. What do you children think?”

  “Agreed!” said the children at once.

  Ms. Sweeting shook hands with each of the Aldens. Then everyone headed to the antique shop.

  Mr. Muldaur was just coming out from the back of the shop. He was carrying a stack of boxes. Mitzy started to bark when she saw Ms. Sweeting.

  Benny hurried over. “It’s okay, Mitzy,” he said, hugging her. “No one’s going to argue anymore.”

  The children and Ms. Sweeting explained the whole story to Mr. Muldaur, and Ms. Sweeting apologized for leaving the note and breaking into the shop.

  Mr. Muldaur listened closely, but he did not look upset. When Ms. Sweeting was done, Mr. Muldaur sighed. “Thank you for your apology. But I think it is I who should apologize to you. I’m sorry you had to keep fighting to get what was yours all along. What a bothersome person I’ve been! I guess that bump on the head was good for me. Otherwise, I would still be holding on to some old grudges.”

  “But, Mr. Muldaur,” said Jessie, “you were already changing before your accident.”

  “That’s right,” said Violet. “Before your fall, you had planned to give the clock to Ms. Sweeting. You knew it belonged to her from your ancestor test.”

  “That might have been how you fell off the ladder,” said Henry. “You were climbing up to get the clock!”

  “I suppose that’s all true,” said Mr. Muldaur. “I don’t like the idea of burning bridges though.” He turned to Ms. Sweeting. “Will you come back as a customer some time?”

  Ms. Sweeting smiled. “Of course,” she said. “I’m always looking for watch and clock parts.”

  Henry brought down the mantel clock one last time. He gave it to Mr. Muldaur, who handed it to Ms. Sweeting.

  “I think this old family feud has finally ended,” Mr. Muldaur told Ms. Sweeting. “We have these children to thank for it.”

  “I believe you’re right,” said Ms. Sweeting. She put the clock carefully into her bag. “Good-bye for now, Mr. Muldaur,” she said. “Good-bye, children.” Then she left the shop.

  “Speaking of burning bridges,” said Mr. Muldaur, “I have something else to do.”

  “Should we call the fire department?” asked Benny.

  Mr. Muldaur laughed. “Benny, this time I think you know.”

  “What do you think I know?” asked Benny.

  “That I’m just using an expression,” said Mr. Muldaur.

  “Burned a bridge,” said Jessie, “means you broke something that you can’t fix later.”

  “Okay,” said Benny. “What bridge did you burn, Mr. Muldaur?”

  “The one I had with my sister, Jeanie,” Mr. Muldaur said. “I’m going to see her. I’ll find out if that bridge is still standing.”

  “If it isn’t,” said Henry, “I’ll bet you can build a new one.”

  Mr. Muldaur laughed again. “You children make me feel as though I can do almost anything! Thank you for helping out in all the ways you have this week.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Jessie. “We enjoyed it.”

  Mr. Muldaur turned to the counter to get a shopping bag. “Now, I have that salt server all wrapped up and ready to go,” he said. “By the way, while you children were out just now, I discovered a beautiful new display in the center of the shop. Do you know that I’ve already sold three items from that display?”

  Violet smiled wide. “I thought it might help,” she said.

  “You’ll find one more gift inside this bag,” said Mr. Muldaur. “It’s just a small thing to remind you all of me.”

  “We won’t forget you, no matter what!” said Benny.

  “We’ll let you know how Mrs. McGregor likes her antique,” said Violet.

  “And we’ll take Mitzy for some long walks,” said Jessie. “Maybe she can meet Watch!”

  The Aldens waited till they got home to open the gift bag. First, they took out a beautifully wrapped present for Mrs. McGregor.

  And then, in the bottom of the bag was Benny’s mechanical bear, with the little key in its side.

  Benny grinned. “I know just the spot for this,” he said. “I’m going to put it on the mantel—right in the middle!”

  Turn the page to read a sneak preview of

  MYSTERY AT CAMP SURVIVAL

  the new

  Boxcar Children mystery!

  Six-year-old Benny Alden howled at the TV. He was watching his favorite show, Wildman Willie. The man on the show practically lived outdoors, and in each episode, someone hired him to solve a problem.

  This week a wolf had been separated from its pack and was trying to hurt a farmer’s chickens. The farmer had hired Wildman to take the wolf back to its pack. Wildman had tracked the animal all day. Now it was getting dark outside, but he was too close to give up.

  Wildman howled like a wolf, “WhooooOOOOO.”

  Benny howled like a wolf, “WhooooOOOOO.”

  Wildman listened.

  Benny listened.

  In the distance, a wolf howled back. The howl was leading Wildman to the wolf’s den.

  Suddenly, Wildman stopped. Benny leaned closer to the TV. Wildman poked a stick into what looked like a pile of mushy rocks. “Fresh wolf scat,” he whispered. “We’re gettin’ real close.”

  Benny’s heart raced. He knew from the show that scat was another name for animal poop. Old scat turned hard. Mushy scat like this meant the wolf was nearby. Benny barely breathed as Wildman ran through the woods. He would find the wolf. Wildman Willie always found what he was looking for.

  “Ben-ny. Oh, Ben-ny.”

  Benny didn’t hear his sister calling for him. He was tracking the wolf with Wildman.

  “Ben-ny. Ben-ny. There you are.” Ten-year-old Violet stepped in front of the TV. She held a basket of laundry.

  “Violet!” cried Benny. He tried to look around her. “Wildman is about to find the wolf!”

  “And we are about to fold laundry,” said Violet. “I’ll only move if you promise to help.”

  Benny nodded and tried to see the TV. Violet sighed and sat down.

  “A wolf has been sneaking into a farmer’s yard. It’s trying to hurt the chickens,” said Benny.

  Violet shivered. “How awful.” The T-shirt she’d been folding lay forgotten in her hands. Sister and brother watched as Wildman eased a rifle off his shoulder. Violet gasped.

  “Don’t worry,” said Benny. “Wildman won’t hurt the wolf. That rifle shoots tank…tank…”

  “Tranquilizer darts?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Benny. “They’ll make the wolf sleep so Wildman can take it back to its pack.”

  Wildman stopped and whispered to the camera, “There’s the den. The wolf’s inside.”

  A commercial came on. One always did just before the show’s ending.

  “Socks,” said Violet.

  Benny dug through the laundry basket, searching for all the socks. His thoughts drifted back to when he and his brother and sisters had lived in the woods.

  After their parents had died, the four Alden children had run away. They’d heard they would be sent to live with a grandfather they’d never met. They thought he would be mean. At first, they had lived outside. Then one night they’d found an old railroad car. The children had turned the boxcar into a cozy home. After a while, their grandfather found them. He’d been searching everywhere for them, and it turned out he wasn’t mean at all. Now they all lived together in Grandfather’s house.

  The commercials ended, and Wildman Willie came back on. He put a finger to his lips, reminding the people watching to stay quiet. Benny and Violet held their breath as Wildman tiptoed toward a mound of leaves. He raised his rifle. They jumped as Wildman yelled, “HUH!” A startled wolf dashed from its den. Wildman pulled the trigger. A tranquilizer dart shot into the wolf’s rear end. Slowly, the wolf rolled onto its side, asleep.

  “He did it! He did it!” yelled Benny.

  Violet clapped her hands. “That was exciting!”

  Fourteen-year-old Henry and twelve-year-old Jessie ran in. “What’s all the noise?” Jessie asked.

  “Wildman Willie caught the wolf,” said Benny.

  “Judging from all that noise, I think you’re the Wildman,” said Henry, roughing his little brother’s hair.

  Henry and Jessie sat on the floor and helped sort laundry. Their dog, Watch, curled up on the sofa. On the TV, Wildman introduced the Show Us Your Adventure part of the show. In it, Wildman showed off photos and videos people had submitted of their own adventures in the wild. Benny really, really wished he could be on the show. He looked at the polka-dot sock in his hands. A video of him folding socks wouldn’t be very exciting. “I miss living in the boxcar,” he said. “It was so much fun.”

  Jessie tossed him the matching sock. She thought about reminding him that there were hard times in the boxcar too, like the time Violet had gotten sick. The children had been lucky to have help close by when that had happened. Instead, she said, “Wildman is never alone. He has a whole bunch of people along with him. You just don’t see them because they are off camera.”

  Benny shrugged. “He still does all the cool stuff himself. Last week he jumped into a frozen lake.”

  Henry chuckled. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “To show people how to get out,” said Benny. “I’ve learned all sorts of survival tricks from Wildman.”

  On the TV, Show Us Your Adventure ended. The scene changed to Wildman Willie lifting the sleeping wolf into his rescue plane. “I’m flying this wolf to a new home deep in the wilderness,” said Wildman. “There he’ll be back with his pack and won’t be harming nice people’s chickens.” Wildman saluted the camera. Benny saluted back. “Until next time,” said Wildman. “Be smart. Stay safe.” He climbed into his plane and took off into the sky.

  The children finished stacking the folded clothes. “Camp Survival!” boomed a voice from the TV. “Where campers survive in the wilderness just like Wildman Willie.”

  Benny whirled around. “Wha—?”

  “Yes,” boomed the deep voice, “you too can camp outdoors, forage for food, cook over campfires.” The commercial showed happy children toasting marshmallows on sticks over a fire. “Camp Survival. Big Pine Lake, Maine. For children six to sixteen years of age. Register now.”

  “I’m six!” shouted Benny. “I could go to—”

  “Lunch is ready,” called a woman’s voice. It was Mrs. McGregor, the Aldens’ housekeeper.

  “Coming!” said Henry, clicking off the TV.

  Camp Survival, thought Benny. He had to remember that name. Camp Survival. Camp Survival. He just had to.

  Mrs. McGregor bustled around the kitchen, pouring milk and setting out a platter of sandwiches. Mrs. McGregor took care of the Aldens’ cooking and cleaning. She was also a close part of the Alden family.

  Grandfather walked in. His blue eyes twinkled as he looked at his grandchildren. “Is there room for one more?”

  “Here,” said Benny, patting the chair next to him.

  “Thank you, Benny,” said Grandfather. “What are you eating?”

  “PB and J,” said Benny.

  “A fine choice.” Grandfather searched the platter for another peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  “There’s a…” Benny started. “There’s a camp called…” But he had forgotten the name. “It’s called…” He closed his eyes and thought of campers fishing and cooking and surviving on their own. “Camp Survival!” he said. “Kids live in the wild just like Wildman Willie. Can we go? Please. Please. Please?”

  Grandfather chewed thoughtfully. “Where is this camp?”

  “Big Pine Lake, Maine,” said Jessie.

  Something changed in Grandfather’s face. “Big Pine Lake, huh?” He took another bite of sandwich. “What do the rest of you think?”

  “I’d like to research Camp Survival,” said Jessie. She was a whiz at finding out things online. “We’ll see if they have interesting programs. If campers like going there. If the counselors are nice.”

  Grandfather turned to Violet. “What about you?” he asked.

  “I would love to sketch life in the woods,” she said. “Trees, flowers, animals. Like I did when we lived in the boxcar.”

  “Hmm,” said Grandfather. “Henry?”

  Henry speared a pickle from the jar. “I’ve been studying outdoor survival in Boy Scouts,” he said. “It would be fun to try things I’ve learned.”

  Grandfather finished his milk. “Jessie,” he said, “why don’t you research the camp on the computer. I’ll make some phone calls. We’ll talk everything over at dinner.”

  “Hoo-RAY!” yelled Benny.

  Grandfather held up a hand. “Hold on,” he said. “It’s not a yes. It’s a ‘we’ll see.’”

  All afternoon, Benny ran back and forth between Jessie’s room and Grandfather’s office. Jessie printed out information about the camp. They learned that the first two days would be spent learning skills. Then their skills would be put to the test on a three-day hike. Jessie also found online reviews posted by past campers. It seemed like everyone had a good time, except for one girl who got poison ivy. She posted a selfie of her face covered with a rash. “My bad,” she said. “I forgot to watch where I was walking.”

  By dinnertime, it was settled. “Well,” said Grandfather, “it looks like the Aldens are on their way to Camp Survival.”

  A week into their summer vacation, the children dragged duffel bags up from the basement. They wrote their names on clothing tags. Jessie was racing past the kitchen with an armload of blankets when she heard Grandfather’s hearty laugh. Is he speaking with Mrs. McGregor? she wondered.

  Jessie peeked into the kitchen. Grandfather was sitting with Watch. “Yes, yes,” he was saying into the phone. “He is a fine traveler. You can take him anywhere. He’s young and eager—always first on and first off.”

  Jessie smiled. It sounded like Grandfather was talking about Benny, who always raced to be first—first to the table, first to the door, first to the car. “Oh, yes,” said Grandfather. “He’ll do just fine up in the air.”

  Jessie carried the blankets upstairs. “Up in the air?” The Aldens were driving to camp, not flying. What could “up in the air” mean? And who was Grandfather talking to in such a friendly way?