“Say! You don’t suppose I’d take a live baby aboard this car all alone?” gasped Joe. “I—guess—not!”
“Oh, I’ll go!” agreed Agnes, and immediately slipped into the seat beside him. “Do hurry—do! Mrs. Creamer is almost crazy.”
Joe’s engine had been running all the time, and in a minute they rounded the corner into High Street.
“Neale got back yet?” asked Joe, slipping the clutch into high speed.
“Oh—oh!” gasped Agnes, as the car shot forward with suddenly increased swiftness. “How—how did you know he had gone away?”
“Saw him off Christmas morning.”
“Oh, Joe Eldred! did you know Neale was going?”
“Why, not till he went,” admitted the boy. “I was running down to the railroad station to meet my married sister and her kids—they were coming over for Christmas dinner—and I saw Neale lugging his satchel and legging it for the station. That bag weighed a ton, so I took him in.”
“Where did he say he was going?” Agnes asked eagerly.
“He didn’t say. Don’t you know?”