“Oh! it’s awful hot; but My hasn’t sweat a hair!”
Those on the front seat laughed slyly.
“Pretty good,” observed Russell softly.
“Amusing little fellow,” returned Dr. Abbe in the same tone.
Polly glanced behind. Little Duke, all unconscious of the notice, was engaged in examining his suit of new tan linen which was his especial admiration. Finding it still immaculate, he resumed his ice-cream, remarking, “If My should get a drop on this, it would be enough to drive the angels to drink.”
Russell grinned, Dr. Abbe’s lips puckered, Lilith laughed into her handkerchief, while Polly whirled her back towards the small boy, and chuckled.
“You seem to be in a fair way to have plenty of entertainment,” observed Russell.
“This goes a little ahead of our regular everyday kind,” returned Polly; “but there’s always enough to keep us cheerful.”
“It is well we didn’t wait for a woodsy dining-room,” declared Polly, when they were again racing northward. “It doesn’t look as if we’d find one very soon.”
It grew hotter and hotter. Polly drove faster.