“It’s a little of both,” replied Percy.
“She’s a queen, herself, Mrs. Ruggles is,” put in Ben.
“I believe she thinks she is one, really,” said Elinor. “If she doesn’t like a person, she almost says, ‘Off with his head.’”
“But I thought you said she was a cook?”
“She is,” answered Merry. “She’s a queenly cook and a cookly queen.”
“You are all a lot of crack-brained, foolish people,” exclaimed Billie, exasperated. “I feel as if ‘The Comet’ couldn’t take me fast enough to satisfy my curiosity about Mrs. Ruggles.”
She put on the third speed and the red motor took to the course like a young race horse as he rounds the curve toward home. It was a long and rather chilly ride before they reached the abode of Mrs. Ruggles. The young people found themselves buttoning their wraps around them quite gratefully and snuggling down in the car.
“Here we are,” said Percy, at last.
Billie stopped the car and examined with much curiosity a quaint old house, rather tumbled down at second glance, but with an air of comfort about it that no amount of disrepair could overcome.
Smoke was pouring out of the middle chimney and the reflection on the small window panes indicated that there was a roaring fire in the front room.