“No, of course not,” Sim amended. “We could give him a lift, and unless my eyes deceive me, we are even now approaching the person in question.”
“You’re right, little one,” Arden announced, “it could be no other. Shall I pull over?” She had taken her foot off the accelerator, and the car slowed down.
Sim and Terry nodded “Yes,” vigorously, and Arden drove over to the side of the road, stopping by the stranger.
“May we give you a lift?” she asked pleasantly.
The man looked at her sharply and seemed startled. He took a soft gray hat from his head politely but still hesitated in answering.
“Why, I—er—thank you very much,” he faltered finally. “My car is back there. I was unable to get the tool chest open, and, really,” he smiled ruefully, “I have no spare.”
The girls thrilled inwardly. He was so good-looking! A “handsome stranger” in every respect, with just a suggestion of a foreign accent.
“We are going to Oceanedge,” Arden continued, “but we could drop you at a garage on our way.”
“Oh, now,” protested the man, “that would be too much. I am used to walking. Besides,” he said disarmingly, “your parents would perhaps not approve.”
“Our parents,” Sim flung in, “have faith in us—in our judgment. You simply must let us take you. It is absurd to walk in this hot sun when we are going that way.”