Books I had read as a kid:
Why is there so often a melted candle sitting on top of a table to signify the time of the crime, but I could never remember what that candle clue was all about, so that I could guess for myself the guilty party, when I read the next mystery?
Somehow, I got the impression this chick was rich, so I couldn’t quite relate to her. And I also couldn’t really believe that such a gal with all, would bother to go on a mysterious search or hunt for a villain, rather than to a dance with her friends. Was it her convertible car that had caused for me to think so? Or was the illustrator of the books at fault? Cuz them scarves on her head sho looked pretty high-end to me. I often pictured Nancy as the blond gal from Scooby Doo whenever she was on the hunt during the late, dark nighttimes. Don’t forget to take your OFF! spray, Nancy! Ya never know what may be flyin’ over them swamps!
Had laughed my head off over this surprisingly humourous read. But how come I couldn’t understand or get through chapter 1 of Tom Sawyer? What’s up wid dat, Mr. Twain?