The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

tonight.”
    “Terrific!” Jim applauded. “Bird dog Trixie is on the scent!”
    “Not to mention hound dog Honey,” Mart said. “But I still—”
    “Well, where is she?” Trixie interrupted. “Where’s Miss Trask?”
    “I think she and Mr. McDuff went on a boat ride,” Jim said. “They said they’d meet us at The Cobweb for tea.”
    “The Cobweb.” Mart smacked his lips. “That’s number one in my gourmet guidebook to a gastro-nomical gratification.”
    Well, we just ate,” began Trixie, exchanging glances with Honey. “But you know me....”
    “Let’s go!” agreed Honey.
    On the way, the girls brought Jim and Mart up-to-date on their new friends, the Tweedies, and the boys filled them in on their tour through Shakespeare’s many haunts.
    “We saw some sights, too,” Honey said, and she went on to tell about the museum and gallery. “Brian would love Hall’s Croft,” she concluded. “After lunch, we went through Dr. Hall’s dispensary, where they have old medical instruments and a journal of his cases and how he cured them.”
    “We’re still seeing sights,” Jim pointed out. They were approaching a row of black-and-white Elizabethan buildings on Sheep Street, and one of them had a sign that read THE COBWEB.
    “Right—a sight for sore stomachs,” Mart quipped.
    The moment they went through the door, they were surrounded by mouth-watering cakes and confections of every kind, which were for sale behind a counter on the lower floor. Upstairs, the Bob-Whites slid in behind a gleaming oak table near an old brick fireplace. As they started reading the menus, there was no sign of Miss Trask or McDuff.
    “Let’s just go ahead and order,” Mart said.
    “The Cobweb could catch fire, and Mart would still say, ‘Let’s go ahead and order,’ ” Trixie teased.
    “I thought ‘tea’ meant tea and maybe some cookies,” Honey said, looking over all the selections on the menu.
    “Biscuits,” Jim corrected her. “In England, cookies are called biscuits.”
    “Then what are biscuits called?” Trixie asked.
    “I think they’re called something like scones,” Jim said doubtfully.
    Before they had that matter settled, a comfortably plump waitress appeared to take their orders. “Wot’ll y’ ’ave, duck?” she asked Honey.
    “No, thanks. I think I’ll have Welsh rarebit,” Honey said, “and a pot of tea.”
    Her three friends burst into giggles, much to Honey’s bewilderment. Her manners, on occasions such as this, were as elegant as her mother’s. What on earth was so funny?
    “Oh, my sides,” Mart moaned. “Help! I’m going to split!”
    “She was calling you duck,” Jim managed to explain, “not asking you if you wanted any.”
    “And ’ow about you, luv,” the waitress said to Trixie.
    Trixie stifled a chortle. She didn’t want to provoke another international incident. “I’ll have a selection of gateaux,” she decided, “please.”
    Jim ordered the same, and Mart said, “I’ll have tongue salad, and the finger sandwiches, and a sausage roll, and some pastries, and—”
    “Mart,” Trixie protested, “this is tea, not Thanksgiving! Ease off!”
    It was their waitress’s turn to giggle, and she was still chuckling when she returned with their food.
    “ ’Ere y’ are, ducks,” she said. “Injoy!”
    Halfway through the meal, McDuff and Miss Trask appeared. They sat down at a table nearby, and Miss Trask leaned over to speak to the Bob-Whites.
    “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “You see, we were rowing—and somehow I lost my oar. I’ve never done anything so clumsy in my life. It just floated away, and Gordie and I had quite a time getting it back.”
    Gordie! Trixie and Honey looked at each other in horror, and Mart’s sandy eyebrows shot up half an inch. They had barely recovered from that shock, when they received an even greater one.
    “What will you have, Marge?” McDuff was saying—to Miss Trask!
    “Jeepers,” Trixie whispered. “Nobody ever—”
    “Sshh,” Jim whispered back.
    “Is that her name?” Mart asked under his breath.
    “It’s Margery,” Honey said. “I’ve seen it on the letters she gets from her sister.” She forced a pleasant expression onto her face as Miss Trask looked over at them and smiled.
    Trixie swallowed hard. Now, they’re adults, she reminded herself sternly, which means that they can call each other whatever they please. And anyway, that’s not so important now that we’re