“Oh, fine! How’d you guess it? That’s a brilliant head you have!” said Ned, rather sarcastically.
“Well, it isn’t my fault,” observed Bob. “I wasn’t guiding the car.”
“No, I s’pose it’s up to me,” admitted Jerry. “Though I’m sure I took the turn that last fellow we asked told us to take.”
“Yes, you did all right,” agreed Ned. “It was that farmer who misdirected us. I beg your pardon, Bob, for jumping at you that way. But it makes me mad to think we’ve gotten on the wrong road, and we won’t get to Boxwood until after supper.”
“Getting hungry?” asked Jerry. “That’s Chunky’s role, you know.”
“Roll or bread—I’d be glad of either,” said Ned. “Yes, I am hungry. I didn’t eat as much lunch as you fellows did. Now go ahead, Bob, and lay it into me. I deserve it.”
Bob reached under the rear seat and held up a package.
“I’ll lay this into you, Ned,” he laughed.
“What is it?” asked the complaining one.
“Grub! Sandwiches, cake and so on.”