“Is she in deep?” asked the stranger.
“You can see how she’s bogged down,” Neale returned. “No chance of my humping her out under her own engine, that’s sure.”
“You need something more—about two-horse power, eh?” said the driver of the peddler’s cart, with a laugh.
“It must be a very annoying situation,” said the second person on the seat of the cart.
Neale fairly jumped. It was a most astonishing thing, and he gaped impolitely for a moment up into the speaker’s face. It was a girl!
Neale O’Neil was sure that she laughed at his surprise. But the young man said nothing further as he wrapped the lines around the whipstock and began to climb down.
By this time the Corner House girls were peering out of the curtains of the automobile, very much interested. The young man, when he got upon the ground, appeared to be about twenty-one, and his face was keen and pleasant, if not handsome. It seemed very queer indeed to find two young people of this character driving a tin peddler’s wagon through the country.
“It is a girl!” whispered Agnes, shrilly. “Goodness me! what fun!”
“And a nice girl, too,” murmured Ruth. “That man looks like a college student.”
“Do you s’pose they are on their honeymoon?” suggested the romantic Agnes.