"Why should our car be stolen?" wailed Zee. "Why couldn't it have been a banker's, who could buy another? Or a bad man's, who did not deserve one anyhow? Or a sick man's, who couldn't enjoy it? Why is it always we preachers who get the raw deal?"
"Oh, Zee!"
"I had several perfectly lovely things I wanted to do with the car," said Rosalie regretfully. "I am sorry I put them off from day to day."
Treasure slipped away from the table and out of the room. She had uttered no protest. She had made no complaint. But she crept sadly out to the garage—she wanted to sit down in the dust where the dear red car had been of yore, and weep over the spot, as at the passing of a dear companion.
She opened the door with hands that trembled—and stopped aghast. Her lips parted several times, and she uttered a curious sputtering gasp. The red car was right there where it belonged—it was not stolen at all. Doris was out of her mind!
She walked slowly, dimly back to the manse, her eyes swimming. Poor Doris—she had walked too far and too fast. Treasure entered the dining-room, pale, with eyes still clouded.
"I am so sorry," Doris was saying. "I know you are all very angry at me, and I do not blame you."
"Where did you leave the car?"
Doris blushed. She could not admit to keen-witted Zee that she had deliberately gone to their Haunted House in the hickory grove.
"Oh, out in the country about six miles—along the Emery Road."