“You might change places with one or two of the children here on the back seat,” Polly suggested, noticing the little maid’s troubled face. “Then Dolly will be right with me when she wakes up.”
The exchange was quickly made, and on went the cars, on and on, through wide farm lands, beside gurgling streams and quiet lakes. They whirled into pretty villages and out, ran along the foot of hills and skirted deep ravines, where down, down, down, a brook was singing. The mountains drew closer and climbed nearer the clouds. But only the grown people saw and enjoyed it all, for the children, to the very last one, had fallen fast asleep.
They had passed through Brattleboro and were following the winding river when—bang!
There was an instant outcry, and everybody that was awake peered out to discover the trouble. It was one of Russell’s tires that was responsible for the spoiling of so many naps, and at once his coat was off and he was getting out his tools, begging the rest to go on and promising to follow as soon as possible. But the road was shady and the cars came to a halt, John and Charley running to help with the injured tire.
The little folks in Russell’s car were in mild excitement, watching proceedings with great interest. The less fortunate ones, after vainly craning their necks and being unable to get a satisfactory view of the scene, gave themselves up to conversing with their neighbors or finishing their interrupted naps.
“I say, it’s a good time for a lunch—” began Polly.
“Oh!”—“Oh, do, Miss Dudley!”—“I’m hungrier than anything!”—“What are we goin’ to have?”—“Oh, my! are we goin’ to have ice-cream?”
“We’re going to have cookies and milk,” replied Polly. And she began fishing out the cakes from a deep bag.
The little folks were all wide awake at once, including Dolly Merrifield, who looked as fresh as need be.
Polly and Dr. Abbe walked over to the workers where John, driver of the truck, was pumping. “It was good of you to hold Dolly all this time,” said the girl. “Isn’t she a darling?”