“Well, don’t let us become savage, if the wilderness is,” said Mrs. Heard, recovering her own good temper. “Of course, Neale, you don’t know just what the matter is with the machine?”
“Not yet; but I’m going to find out,” he returned, hauling his overalls and jumper out of the tool-box.
“And us,” cried Dot. “Let’s look around for the place where we’re going to camp. Why! we’ll be just like the Gypsies again.”
“My goodness!” groaned Mrs. Heard. “That child is uncanny. Does she know that we are going to be marooned here all night? And not a soul in sight!”
“We got something to eat,” said Sammy, who had investigated. “I’ll get the fire ready to light. Neale won’t let me have matches.”
“I’m sure we could clean out one of those small houses, and make it nice and comfortable for us to live in,” said Tess, falling in with the idea with enthusiasm.
“Me for the hay!” cried Agnes, running up to the barn door. “We’ll sleep in the hay!”
“Remember the rats!” hissed Neale, as he crept under the car with a hammer and a collection of wrenches.
“Mean thing!” cried Agnes. “I won’t believe there are such things, so now!”
When she opened the small barn door, however, she had a fright right at the start. Something whisked out at her feet, and Agnes leaped aside with a scream.