“But perhaps nothing will happen,” put in Ethel, in amusement. “After all, the whole thing is only a matter of conjecture.”
“Then since you persist in carrying out your plans,” announced Lily, “I have decided to go along with you. You’ve got to pack me in somewhere!”
“No, no, Lily!” protested Marjorie vehemently. “We’d love to have you, but you think that it’s dangerous and maybe you’re right. Remember you’re an only child!”
“You’ve used that argument before!”
“And it’s still true!”
“Well, I’m going, anyhow. Now—listen to this: I haven’t made any reservations to go on the train with the others!”
“What?” demanded Marjorie in surprise, realizing for the first time that the girl was in earnest.
“No, I haven’t! So you have to take me along with you.”
The argument proved conclusive; Marjorie had no idea of subjecting her chum to the weariness of a journey to the east alone. Accordingly, when the party passed the following morning, Alice and Mrs. Remington were the only ones left behind to return by rail.
The seven-passenger car in which they had travelled to the Pacific Coast had been completely overhauled and pronounced by an expert to be in perfect condition for the return trip. But this time not one of the party, except possibly Mrs. Hart, looked forward to a smooth and uneventful tour. Marjorie even wondered secretly whether they would not all be a trifle disappointed if nothing did happen.