“No. But she looks good-natured,” Chunky replied. “She won’t mind getting me a couple of extra plates of wheat cakes and she’ll give me plenty of maple syrup.”
“Oh, then there’s a method in your madness,” laughed Jerry. “All right, old scout, go to it.”
The fat but pretty and jolly waitress welcomed them to her table, and she seemed to give special attention to Bob, somewhat to the latter’s embarrassment.
Professor Snodgrass caused a little disturbance when, after looking at the bill of fare, he asked the girl:
“Do you have any lymexylon navale?”
“Er—wha—what’s that, sir?” she asked, reaching for the bill of fare.
“I say have you any lymexylon navale out here?”
“I—I don’t believe we have any for breakfast this morning, sir. But I’ll ask in the kitchen.”
“Dear me, it isn’t anything to eat!” exclaimed the professor, with a laugh. “I was referring to the serricorn beetle, which is allied to the Elateridæ and the Buprestidæ. It is called lymexylon navale because of the damage its grubs caused in the Swedish dockyards at the time of Linnæus. It is very destructive to oak trees, and as I noticed some oak trees in front of the hotel, I thought you might have seen some of the lymexylon navale bugs.”
“No—no, sir,” and the girl moved away from the little scientist. “But we have some navel oranges, if that’s what you mean.”