“Oh, it’s all right,” Ned hastened to say. “I was only joking. I don’t know what’s the matter with me to-night. I seem to be on the outs all around.”
“It’s your liver,” said Jerry with a laugh. “I don’t hold it against you.”
“Fox-trotting is good for it,” observed Bob.
“Good for what?” demanded Ned.
“Sluggish and torpid livers. I guess that’s what you’ve got.”
“Get out!” laughed Ned. “I only have one liver.”
They sped along, and presently a new moon showed above the horizon, shining now and then through the masses of scudding clouds. The road was good, and Jerry had turned the wheel over to Ned, as the latter had not driven much that day, and Jerry was rather tired from the strain.
They came to the top of a little hill, and saw, not far away, a group of buildings revealed in the moonlight.
“There she is!” exclaimed Bob. “There’s Boxwood Hall!”