Secretly the boys were a little afraid of this formidable old woman, and they wondered rather nervously whether or not she would break up the party.
When Jimmy, who was sitting beside Bob in the flivver, pointed out the white, ivy-grown house where the old woman lived, Bob nudged him nervously.
"Remember, you've got to take care of her," he said, noticing that Jimmy himself looked rather worried. "You were the one who spoke about her—"
"Gee, you don't need to rub it in, do you," growled the fat boy as he squeezed himself through the door and stepped gingerly onto the dusty road. "Better let me go in alone. She might get scared if she saw the whole bunch of us, and maybe she wouldn't come at all."
In his heart Bob thought that that might not be such a terrible thing, but he kept quiet. A fellow ought to be thankful for small blessings. Think how much worse it would be if he, and not Jimmy, were forced to break the news to Aunty Bixby.
The big car came to a stop beside the Ford, and all the boys watched with interest as Jimmy ascended the steps of the porch, rang the bell, and a moment later, disappeared into the house.
But as the time passed and he still failed to emerge they began to get a little uneasy about him. Finally Bob let himself out of the car and went to consult with Joe and Herb.
They had just about decided to make a raid upon the house and rescue poor Jimmy when the subject of discussion himself appeared, looking very red and flustered and out of sorts.
The boys were about to make a concerted rush upon him, but he waved them back violently.
"She's coming," he said in a hoarse tone somewhere between a whisper and a shout. "Get back there, you fellows."