"And I've got to walk back to Portsmouth," groaned Mr. McCarthy. "I told you, Mrs. Livingston."
"Perhaps we may catch some farmer who is going in that direction, and who will be willing to give you a lift," she suggested.
"No; you will have to let me sleep under a tree and hang about to-night. The men are coming down in the morning to get the car out of the pond. They might as well have two jobs as one. How did it happen, Jane?"
For the first time the party of Camp Girls who had gathered about the little group gave their attention to the Meadow-Brook Girls. The latter were now discovered to be much the worse for wear. Their hair was down over their shoulders and their clothes were soiled and torn.
"Got it hard, didn't you?" chuckled Mr. McCarthy.
"Oh, not so much," replied Jane, repressing a smile.
"You are a thight. You look ath though you had been digging for buried treathure," declared Tommy.
"How'd it happen?" rumbled Mr. McCarthy.
"It was like this, Daddy, dear. We were running along nicely and easily—just at a comfortable jog, when—"
"How fast?"