But his hopes fell the next moment. Something began to knock under the car. Janice, startled, shut off the spark and the flow of gas. The pace was quickly reduced. Elder Concannon leaned over the back of the seat again and snarled:
“What’s the matter with the plagued thing now?”
Janice began to giggle. She could not help it. The metamorphosis of the staid and stern old Elder within the last few minutes was too funny for anything.
“GO ON! GO ON!” THE ELDER WAS YELLING—(see page [243])
“I’ll fix it, Elder. Don’t be worried,” she said, jumping out. “We’ve plenty of time.”
“‘Plenty of time,’ girl!” repeated the old gentleman. “Your clock says ten minutes after three right now!”
“Twenty minutes is ample time to reach the bank,” she mumbled, crawling under the automobile.
“Great goodness!” he groaned. “How can you say that? We’re only at Timothy Warner’s. And I declare! I believe they are all at the windows looking down here.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” Janice returned in a muffled tone. “They usually stare at me when I come by.”