“’Cause Tom Jonah wouldn’t let ’em,” said the smallest girl.
“Then we should have brought Tom Jonah with us,” Agnes said. “We’ll have to let him watch the car all the time.”
“Mr. Collinger’s car was taken right away from the front of the County Court House. Those thieves were bold,” said Ruth. “I heard Mr. Howbridge say that there was something behind that affair. He doubts if the car was stolen by any common thieves.”
“Common or uncommon,” cried Agnes, “we don’t want ours stolen!”
“Better set a watch at the garage door at night,” chuckled Neale.
They were out in the country now and had entered a smooth, but “woodsy,” road that passed through a rather thick forest. The road was very narrow in places and there were only a few houses along the track for some miles.
Suddenly they sighted just ahead a basket phaeton and a brown, fat pony hitched to it. Neale slowed down quickly, for the turnout was standing still. The driver was a middle-aged woman with a good many fussy looking ribbons in her bonnet and otherwise dressed quite gaily. The fat brown pony was standing still, flicking flies with his tail and wagging his ears comfortably. He was in the very middle of the road and by no possibility could the car be steered around the turnout.
The woman looked around at the car and its passengers and her face displayed a most exasperated expression.
“I don’t know what you’ll do!” she cried, in a rather shrill voice. “I can’t make him budge. He’s been standing here this way for fifteen minutes, and sometimes he balks for hours!”