"I thought you said you were just out for a ride," remarked Miss Mablethorpe. (It is quite a mistake to suppose that it is only small boys who are cruel to the humbler members of creation.)
Derek floundered helplessly, and was dumb. From afar came the melodious toot of a well-modulated Gabriel horn. Dumps sat up, and looked sharply up the road.
"Well, anyway, will you be my partner?" asked Derek, lifting his eyes once more. He was surprised and not a little gratified to observe that Miss Sylvia had turned excessively pink.
"Yes—perhaps. No. All right," replied the girl shortly. "I must go now. Good-bye. See you on Thursday."
By way of intimating that the audience was terminated, Miss Mablethorpe swung her ankles—they had grown quite slim these days—over the wall and disappeared with a thud. Mr. Rayner, on the whole much puffed up, galloped away.
Two minutes later an automobile, consisting chiefly of a chassis, with a single wooden seat lashed to the frame, slid to a standstill outside the gates of Red Gables. On the back of the seat, in bold letters, was painted the legend, "Britannia Motor Company, Coventry." In the seat sat Philip.
The car had hardly stopped when the gates were swung open and Dumps appeared, smiling welcome.
"Hallo, Philip!" she said. "Is this our new car?"
"Not quite," said Philip, surveying his dingy but workmanlike equipage. "This is my service-car. They are sending yours on Monday."
By this time the girl had clambered on to the back of the chassis and ensconced herself on the petrol-tank. Philip, turning the car in through the gates, drove up the short straight avenue to the front door. The purring of the big engine ceased, and the pair, having alighted, passed arm-in-arm, like brother and sister, into the presence of Mr. Mablethorpe.