“That’s right.”
As they walked into the yard of the Corner House, on the porch of which Ruth, Agnes, Nalbro, and Hal were gathered, the last looked at a patch of red on Luke’s left hand.
“Hello,” Hal cried. “Did he bite you?” The hand was bleeding.
“What? Oh, that! I hit it against a brick wall and rubbed off some of the skin. It isn’t anything.”
“I can match you!” chuckled Hal, displaying his bruised knuckles. “Say, what kind of a car is that, anyhow?” and he nodded in the direction of the garage. “Must be a new model. She wouldn’t start for me.”
“Oh, so that’s how it happened!” chuckled Neale. “I guess you forgot to cross your fingers and say ‘eenie-meenie-miney-mo’ before you stepped on the starter, didn’t you?”
“I reckon I did,” admitted Hal, with a grin.
“Luke, let me see that cut,” demanded Ruth.
“Oh, it isn’t anything. I’m not going to have any iodine put on it.”
“Yes you are!” she insisted. “And you, too, Hal. Come up to the bathroom right away. There’s nothing like treating a cut in time. There’s no telling what germs may be in it, and iodine will kill them. Come on.”