When Iris realized that she had been actually kidnapped, her feelings were of anger, rather than of fright. The indignity of the thing loomed above her sense of danger or fear of personal injury. The little car, a landaulet, ran smoothly and rapidly, and as soon as they were well away from Pellbrook the stifling cloth was partially removed from her head, and Iris discovered that beside her was a young woman, whose face, though determined, was not at all awe-inspiring. She even smiled at Iris' furious expression, and said, "Now, now, what's the use? You may as well take it quietly."
"Take kidnapping quietly!" blazed Iris. "Would you?"
"If I couldn't help myself any more than you can, yes."
"Keep still! Too much chattering back there!" came a voice from the driver's seat, and a scowling face turned round for a moment.
"All right," retorted Iris' cheerful companion, "you mind your business, and I'll mind mine."
Then, she took the covering entirely off Iris' head, but at the same time she drew down the silk shades to the windows of the car.
"Sorry," she said, blithely, "but it must be did!"
"Where am I? Where am I going?" and Iris frowned at her.
"You dunno where you're going, but you're on your way," sang the strange girl, for she was little more than a girl. "Now, don'tee fight—just take it pleasant-like, and it will be lots better for you."
"I don't care for your advice, thank you; I ask you what it means that I am forcibly carried off in this way?"