“Jozy and Grissel want to sit in the Gresham car, so as to be on the spot when that takes its turn at popping!”
Russell shouted, and Jozy began to cry.
“Beg pardon, mesdemoiselles,” smiled Russell with a low bow; “but”—glancing at the others—“that is a good one!”
Grissel’s lip went up, and she hid her face in her elbow.
“Come, come,” coaxed Polly, “there’s nothing to cry about. We don’t expect any more punctures, so you’d better stay where you are.” She waved Russell off and settled herself at the wheel.
“What magnificent ferns!” It was Dr. Abbe’s tribute to the mountain road.
“Aren’t they beautiful!” responded Lilith. “Polly says it looks as if somebody had been decorating for a wedding.”
The Doctor laughed—and blushed.
“I wonder if he is going to be married,” thought Lilith.
The way wound up and up; but No. 45678 took the steep grade ascent without flinching, and at least one of the party thought Polly managed her car exceedingly well. As they mounted higher and still higher, occasional breaks in the leafy roadsides drew forth exclamations of surprise and admiration from the travelers big and little.