In the excitement of getting off, Mr. Treat forgot all about the unfastened hamper, and so with a few preliminary coughs and rumbles, the machine glided smoothly out of the drive on to the highway—a six-passenger car.
From the time the boys had been out of bed, they had been popping to the front window in the kitchen at every noise made by passing vehicles.
“Mama, mama, there go the Ripleys!” they complained, eager to be off.
“We’ll never get there if we don’t start pretty soon,” they fairly groaned.
“Never mind, never mind,” Mother Treat comforted. “We are going in the automobile, you know, and we will overtake all those people before they are so very many miles on their way.”
And now that they were skimming along so rapidly, they really began to pass their neighbors in their slower, horse-drawn conveyances.
Farmer Treat honked merrily as he rolled up behind them and as horses were turned to one side to give liberal passing room, the boys answered the friendly greetings with happy shouts and waving caps.
“We will beat the whole township to the Fair,” predicted Tom, ever full of confidence.
“B-b-b-b-u-u-u-r-r-r-r-r-r!” came a hoarse, grating sound from the depths of the auto as they reached the first slight incline which began the long, steady half-mile mount of Rex Hill.