"We don't want to locate it," said Bartlett, growing stern and cross of a necessity.
They found the cars waiting at the steps and a small crowd to see them off and wile away the time before supper.
Bartlett said, as he knew the way, he would lead. "We need only two cars. Mr. Batchelor's car can be left until we return."
"Three cars might come in handy," protested the general, who objected to every suggestion not his own, on principle.
"Why?" asked Bartlett coldly.
"Mr. Batchelor might become offended at us and want to ride by himself," suggested Henrietta, laughing.
"Yes," agreed Billy, who, though young and charming, was sometimes lacking in that reserve that should have stamped her father's daughter. "He and dad are fighting each other now on 'Change."
Henrietta flushed, the Watermelon laughed and the general looked pained at the thought of any possible lack of congeniality.
"My dear Billy," said Bartlett, "the third auto would be extremely handy for you and your tongue, at least."
Billy glanced miserably from one to the other. "Why, Daddy, you told me, yesterday—"