“That’s so. Sleighing isn’t much fun in July or August.”
“Huh! don’t be silly. But, I say, Philip, where are we? Jim said we’d pass Little Falls, and then we must follow the trolley line all the way to the butter and egg house. I don’t see any trolley.”
“Neither do I, yet. But we’ll soon strike it. Ah, here we are!”
“No; this is a railroad,—a steam railroad, I mean. Philip, we’re off the road.”
“I think we are. I’m sorry I insisted on turning to the right at that corner.”
“You didn’t insist. I did! But I thought it was right.”
“It is right, dear. Anything is right, where you are.”
“You’d better stop talking foolishness, and find the right road.”
“Oh, if you call that foolishness!”
“Well, I do! I’d rather you’d get to the egg house and back before it begins to storm. And by the looks of the sky, I’m sure it is going to storm.”