“So let’s not do it. We can rest here as long as you want. When your backbone stops aching, we can go on.”
“But where’ll we go to?” was Dot’s very pertinent query.
“Why—why, we’ll just walk on—along the road.”
“And where does it go to?”
“Why, does that matter?” returned Tess, bravely. “Of course our automobile will come along and pick us up. Or, if it doesn’t, we’ll reach a house and the lady will invite us in.”
“Well,” whimpered Dot, “I don’t care how soon we reach that house—and the lady ‘vites us in—and gives us our supper. I’m hungry, Tess.”
“Don’t you s’pose I am, too?” asked the older girl, with some asperity. Dot did sound rather selfish. “And Alice?”
“Oh! the poor, dear child must be just starved,” sniffed Dot, hugging the doll closer.
“But she isn’t complaining all the time,” said Tess, scornfully.
Dot fought back her tears. “I think you’re horrid, cruel, cross, Tess Kenway!” she said. “But I’ll try not to cry.”