“Don’t you think we’d better be starting back? Dave and Marshmallow have a long drive ahead of them and it’s getting late.”
“We haven’t eaten all of the sandwiches yet,” Marshmallow protested.
“Then hurry and we’ll wait for you.”
“But I can’t now. Oh, well, I suppose we can cart them home. Maybe Dave and I can eat them on the way back to Chilton.”
“You mean you can,” Dave corrected.
As they were driving slowly back toward the mansion, Doris thought of Ronald Trent, and frowned. For the last few hours she had been having so much fun that she had not once considered the problem which troubled her, but now she decided to mention the matter to Dave. Perhaps he could offer helpful advice. Accordingly, she told him of the proposition which the Misses Gates had made.
Dave listened quietly until she had finished.
“It may be all right,” he said, “but it sounds sort of queer to me. I don’t like that fellow Trent.”
“He’s my cousin, Dave.”
“Better not own him!”