“And I’m going to ride there myself,” declared Agnes, firmly. “I’ve got to learn to run this car right away. If Neale could learn, and get a license, I can. By the way, Neale, where is your license?”
“Oh, I’ve got it with me,” returned the boy. “D’ you want me to have it pasted on the back of my coat?”
“Tom Jonah must stay at home—and the kittens, too,” said Tess, looking at the troop of cats and kittens lingering about the side porch, waiting for their morning meal.
“And Billy Bumps,” added Dot, referring to the solemn old goat grazing on the drying green.
Uncle Rufus, the black factotum of the Corner House, came up from the garden, grinning widely at them.
“Don’ yo’ chillun run down nothin’—nor run up nothin’—w’ile yo’ is gone. I dunno ‘bout dat contraption. Ah hopes yo’ git back widout more’n a dozen laigs broke.”
“Goodness, Uncle Rufus!” cried Agnes. “What do you think we are—centipedes?”
“Dunno nottin’ ‘bout dem ’er,” declared the old colored man, chuckling. “Don’t hab center-pigs in Virginny, whar I done come from. Dey uses razorbacks fo’ de mos’ part in makin’ po’k.”
The car started amid a gale of laughter at this. Mrs. MacCall waved her cap from an open second story window. Some of the neighbors took a deep interest in their departure, too. It was certainly a fact that the Corner House girls had suddenly become of much importance since it was known that they had a car.
Ruth and the others looked up at Aunt Sarah Maltby’s windows at the front of the house as the car jounced delightfully across the tracks on Main Street. But the old lady kept her curtains drawn. She would not even look out at them.