"Didn't I tell you?" Artie insisted. "It is an automobile house, isn't it?"
"Certainly it isn't," retorted Fred, in his most crushing manner. "I should think you would know a barn when you see one."
Artie stared. Truth to tell, the building did look more like a barn than a house. But what was a barn doing in the middle of the road?
"Can't hope to drive that anywhere," Mr. Larue called. "Wonder what we do next?"
"Detour," Mr. Williamson said briefly, and the three mothers groaned.
"There won't be anything in the house to eat, you know," Mrs. Marley announced. "We can't get supplies and cook dinner if we get there so late."
"We'll go to the hotel," promised Mr. Marley. "It will be our one chance to be fashionable, so we ought to make the most of it."
"Oh, Mother, let's go to a hotel!" Margy begged. "I love to eat in a big dining-room."
The boys sniffed and Mrs. Williamson laughed.