Relaxing comfortably against the cool leather upholstery, they soon left Cedar Ridge behind them. Mile on mile piled up as they drove along the uncrowded roads leading out of Morrisville. They talked little; thoughts were too insistent, for leaving school was indeed a big event, and all seemed completely to realize its importance.
At noon they stopped at a wayside Tea Shoppe for lunch, and when fortified by sandwiches and tea and a generous helping of chocolate cake they continued on their journey, becoming less like students and more like ordinary girls as they left college farther in the distance.
The country was now taking on a seashore look, maple trees giving place to patchy-barked sycamores and stunted, conventional pines, and grassy meadows fading into sandy wastes and dunes; the road stretching always before them, a dark ribbon between the yellow hills of sand, pebbles, and broken shells.
It was at just such a portion of country that they came upon the stalled car.
“Wait, Arden,” Sim begged as they approached it, “let’s see what the trouble is. There hasn’t been a garage for miles.”
“No, and there won’t be another one for miles, either, not until we get to Oceanedge,” Terry announced. “Perhaps we should see if we could help.”
Arden promptly turned in to the side of the road, where they inspected a rather ancient car, sagging over a flattened tire and looking like anything but the power to move along.
“A blowout,” Terry remarked laconically. “The owner is probably walking into town.”
Curiously they looked into the abandoned vehicle when, suddenly, a huge white and tan dog, apparently aroused from a pleasant sleep, began to bark ferociously.
“No one could go near that car with that—that—what is it, Arden?” Sim questioned.