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Updated: May 29, 2025
Don't worry." But Nancy wiped a few tears away. Never before had she appreciated the fact that here at Pinewood Hall she had made many dear and loving friends. "Miss Nobody from Nowhere" was just as important as anybody else in the whole school. Samuel drove almost recklessly through the streets of Clintondale in order to make the night train that stopped but a moment at the station.
But there was scarcely a pleasant afternoon during the remainder of Nancy's junior year, while Mr. Gordon was at Clintondale, that a very red-haired youth, in a smart auto outfit, did not drive up to the school entrance in a little runabout, and whisk Nancy down to the village hotel to see Mr. Gordon for an hour or so. And Nancy learned to like Mr.
"Where are you going?" demanded the lawyer. "Why why, to Clintondale, sir." "Ha! I'll make sure that you get on the right train, at any rate," he said, and pressed a button under the edge of his desk. "Have you had your luncheon?" "No, sir. Not yet." He plucked a ten-dollar note out of his vest pocket and thrust it into her hand. "Get your luncheon."
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