“Well, I think we’d better be going up to the hotel, then,” cried Miss Sallie. “If I’m to be suffocated by smoke and cinders I think I shall need all the rest I can get beforehand.”
“But, dearest Aunt Sallie,” said Ruth, patting her aunt’s peach-blossom cheek, “the fires are nowhere near Sleepy Hollow. They are miles off in the mountains. And truly, in your heart, I believe you like these little auto jaunts better than any of us.”
“Not at all,” replied the inflexible Miss Stuart. “I am much too old and rheumatic for such nonsense.”
Whereupon she jumped nimbly into the car.
The others all laughed. They understood Miss Sallie pretty well by this time. “She has a stern exterior, but a very melting interior,” Barbara used to say of her.
“Don’t fail to be ready by ten, girls,” called Ruth as she followed her aunt, while Mr. Stuart was offering his adieux to Mrs. Thurston.
“But, Bab,” whispered Mollie, as the automobile disappeared around a curve in the road, “what about the forest fires?”
“Sh-h!” said Barbara, with, a finger on her lip.
And they followed their mother into the house.