“Down, sir!” sang out Tom Cameron, and then he burst into view.
“Oh, Tom! what a sight you are!” gasped Ruth.
“My goodness me!” exclaimed his sister. “Have you been in a fight?”
“Down, Reno!” commanded her brother again. He came striding toward them. If he had not been so disheveled, anybody could have seen that, dressed in his sister’s clothes, and she in his, one could scarcely have told them apart. A boy and a girl never could look more alike than Tom and Helen Cameron.
“What has happened to you?” demanded Ruth, quite as anxious as Tom’s own sister.
“Look like I’d been monkeying with the buzz-saw—eh?” he demanded, but a little ruefully. “Say! I’ve had a time. If it hadn’t been for Reno——”
“Why, Reno has hurt himself, too!” exclaimed Ruth, hopping out of the car and for the first time noticing that there was a cake of partially dried blood on the dog’s shoulder.
“He isn’t hurt much. And neither am I. Only my clothes torn——”
“And your face scratched!” ejaculated Helen.
“Oh—well—that’s nothing. That was an accident. She didn’t mean to do it.”