"Oh, Doris, I'll bet you had a wreck."
"What happened?"
"I went for a drive instead of a walk, and I left the car just to walk through the woods a little—and when I came back it was gone."
"Gone!"
"Oh, Doris! You would not let us ride for three weeks, and now it is gone and we can never ride again—the dear darling precious little car."
"Never mind, girls, if it is gone, no use to worry."
"Every one said we were foolish not to take the cow in the first place."
"Oh, Rosalie, please don't throw that up to me," said Doris tearfully. "I loved it too much, I was just crazy about it, I thought of it day and night. Maybe it is a punishment, I suppose it is. And it is all my fault, for I did adore it."
"Oh, no, Doris. I am sure that had nothing to do with it. You know we preachers do not have many of these physical, sensational joys—and the car has been an ecstasy for every one of us. I am sure an understanding Providence has rejoiced in our pleasure, and not begrudged us a second of it."