“You had better wait,” said the stableman. “You will be caught in the storm.”
“Oh, I think we’ll make it,” said Shirley. “Besides, Dad expects us in time for supper.”
“Telephone him,” said the man.
“No,” said Shirley, “we’ll run the risk.”
“Well, all right,” was the reply, “but you had better hurry.”
Shirley shook out the reins, and touched the horse lightly with her whip. The animal started off at a rapid trot.
It was a good three miles home, and Mabel, glancing once more at the sky, urged Shirley to hurry.
“We’ll get a good soaking,” she said.
“It won’t hurt us any,” said Shirley. “I’m sure I won’t melt, and I don’t think you will.”
They continued up Main Street, and finally reached the outskirts of the town.