Jacob Aborn bungalow. I read glowing accounts of your cleverness in the papers. Just imagine capturing a criminal! I’d be thrilled to death!”
“I was glad to help Laura Pendleton regain her inheritance,” Nancy said quietly. “But I’m afraid the reporters exaggerated my part a little.” Then to change the subject: “Have you had luncheon?”
“No, I haven’t, and it’s after one o’clock, too. I’m nearly starved.”
“Then why not lunch with me? After that, we can see what can be done about your car.”
“Suits me,” Emily agreed willingly.
Arm in arm the two girls hurried up the path to the inn. Entering, they saw that the dining room was crowded, but the head waiter bowed to Nancy in recognition, and, to the astonishment of persons who had not received choice tables, they were promptly escorted to a secluded nook which permitted an excellent view of the lake and the grounds.
“How do you do it?” Emily asked in a low tone when the girls were seated. “The waiter gave us the very nicest table in the room.”
“Oh, I’ve been here before. That probably explains it.”
“You know it doesn’t, Nancy Drew; but you’re too modest to admit that you’re something of a personage. At the rate you’re going, you’ll soon be as famous as your father.”
“Oh, Emily!” Nancy protested. “What possesses you, anyway? Just because I’ve solved a few old mysteries—” her voice trailed off as she studied the menu card. “I can’t make up my mind what to order.”
“You’re positively the limit,” Emily sighed, as she too turned her attention to the bill of fare. “Food interests you more than an honest compliment.”