The girls in the car took up the cry and shouted it joyfully.
“You made quick time,” Robin said to Lillian with grateful warmth. “Gussie, Calista, Laura Mead and Norma Buchanan have been phoned for. Phil and Barbara are at that end of the job. Did you meet any of our rescue motorists on the way?”
“Yes; I passed Gus and Calista not far from the Arms. They were speeding along, splashing up the water like sixty. They were having a race to see which one could keep in the lead.”
“Thank goodness for such glorious news!” exclaimed Robin energetically. “Do you mind making another trip, Lillian?”
“I’d love to. I’ll dump my cargo of dorms, as our friend Guiseppe likes to call ’em, instanter. Then I’ll beat you back to town.”
“Oh, no you won’t. Good-bye. I haven’t time to say much obliged.” Robin promptly started her car and sped away through the fine misting rain into which the heavier downpour had at last merged.
“This is one way to spend Thanksgiving,” she reflected, a touch of mockery in her smile, as she sent the car ahead at the highest speed she dared employ. “I know three Silvertonites who are going to be away late for dinner at the Hall, too. But it’s our traditional obligation to see the dorms within Baretti’s hospitable gates first and consider our own turkey dinner last. Just the same I hope there’ll be lots of turkey left. I’m so hungry.” Robin sighed audibly.
She forgot her hunger when she suddenly spied Gussie and Calista coming up, a pair of highly enthusiastic, if somewhat reckless chauffeurs, each driving a car filled with dinner guests.
“You can always rely on the Bertram Taxi Company,” Gussie called at top voice. She was in the lead and radiant with the opportunity which had fallen to her to make herself useful.
Robin rewarded Gussie with a gay salute. “Seen the others?” she cried.