"Why, Bab Thurston, how can you say so?" exclaimed Ruth. "I love you better than any other girl I've ever known. You ought to know that. The truth of the matter is that I am worried, dear. I have not been quite myself of late. I'm worried about father. Was—was it that that made you cry, dear?"
"Not exactly. I was crying because—because I felt sorry for you and—and for——"
"For whom?"
Barbara shook her head and closed her lips firmly.
"I shan't say another word. Please don't ask me. I want to think. If you don't mind, I am going to bed. Must I go downstairs first?"
"No, child. You tumble right in. I will tell the folks you are not feeling quite well. I want to speak to Olive before I go to bed, anyway."
"Tell them that I am going to bed, please."
"Yes."
"Please also say good night to Mr. and Mrs. Presby for me, won't you?"
Ruth said she would do so, and hurried from the room. She stopped in Olive's room to tell the other "Automobile Girls" not to disturb Bab, who had gone to bed feeling a little indisposed.