Fabulous Five 027 - The Scapegoat by Betsy Haynes Read Free Book Online

pulling the little girl to
her.
    "Two hunnert, one-fifty, million ago," said Jenny,
looking very serious.
    "Well, little kitty," Christie said, "why don't
we go downstairs and have a saucer of milk?"
    "Mmmm!" Jenny licked her lips.
    After Jenny had finished her milk, she sat cross-legged in
her chair, pretending to lick her paws. Christie couldn't help smiling at the
three-year-old. With Jenny's great imagination, she'll probably be an actress,
like Beth Barry, Christie thought. I've got to remember to tell Beth about the
things that Jenny does.
    Christie gave Jenny her bath, put her to bed, and had just
settled down in the living room with her homework when the phone rang. It was
Connie.
    "I rang your flat, and your mum gave me the number
where you're minding," he explained. "Has Jenny bitten your leg yet?"
Connie had met Jenny at the Winchells' open house and knew about her dog act.
    "No." Christie laughed. "But she tried to
scratch me. Jenny has decided she's a kitten now, instead of a puppy."
    Connie chuckled. "I've a message for you from someone,"
he said.
    Davey? Charlie? Christie wondered. "Who?" she asked.
    "Rigel. He wants to know when you're going to visit him
again."
    It was Christie's turn to chuckle. "I haven't been
asked."
    "Well, Rigel would be mad at me if I didn't ask you and
he found out, wouldn't he? Can you go riding Saturday? My father and I could
pick you up on the way to our place in the country." Then he added
quickly, "It's not a date, though, you understand. So don't say no."
    Christie smiled at the telephone. That was true. It wasn't
as if it were a real date, she told herself. It's more like riding her bike
back home with some boy she was friends with. "It sounds like fun,"
she said finally. "What time will you pick me up?"

CHAPTER 10
    "Miss Winchell, I'd like to talk to you for a moment,"
said Miss Woolsey as the bell rang, ending the homeroom period the next
morning.
    Denise gave Christie a look of sympathy as she passed her on
the way out the door.
    "Please sit down," Miss Woolsey said, indicating
the chair next to her desk.
    Christie had an ominous feeling. Miss Woolsey obviously had
something serious on her mind.
    After the other students had left, the teacher began, "I've
noticed that you're not doing well in science, Miss Winchell. As a matter of
fact, you have a D average. This surprises me, to say the least, since you
appear to be doing well in all your other classes. You haven't been gathering
wool when you should have been paying attention, have you?"
    "No, Miss Woolsey. I've been trying very hard."
    "Have you been keeping up with your assignments?"
    Christie looked the teacher directly in the eyes. "Yes,
ma'am, I have. Every single one of them."
    The firm way that Christie answered seemed to reassure Miss
Woolsey. "How is your project for the science competition progressing?"
the teacher asked. "What have you selected?"
    "I haven't decided on one yet," answered Christie
truthfully. "I want a really good one and haven't found one I like."
    "Well, I suggest that you settle on one soon, Miss Winchell,
or there won't be time for you to complete it. I also strongly suggest
that you talk to Miss Finney about your progress in her class. I've known Miss
Finney for quite some time. As a matter of fact we grew up together. She's a
dedicated teacher. I'm sure she can help you solve your problem."
    Christie nodded. She wanted to say, Miss Finney is my
problem , but Miss Woolsey wouldn't understand. How could she when Christie
didn't understand it herself?
     
    "Maintain your position in line, girls!" Miss
Finney called as the science class stood at the entrance to the Tower of
London. Mrs. Woodruff was talking to the attendant at the gate.
    Christie looked up at the tall, gray, stone walls. The Tower
of London was really a huge fort. To her left, one wall topped by parapets
stretched farther than a football field. On the right, the tower was bordered
by the Thames River. There were narrow windows