"Then perhaps we'd better not stop for supper," said Mollie. "Your aunt might be worrying, Betty, and—"
"We'll telephone her!" exclaimed the farmer. "I've got a 'phone—lots of us have around here—and I can let her know all about it. Or you can talk to her yourself," he added.
So it was arranged; and soon Betty was talking to her anxious relative over the wire. Then, after a bountiful supper, which the girls very much enjoyed, the farmer hitched up his fine team, and soon they were on their way to Mrs. Palmer's. The drive was not a long one.
"My!" exclaimed Mollie, as they bowled along over the smooth road, under a young moon that silvered the earth, "this is better than walking!"
"I should say so," agreed Grace, whose shoes hurt her more than she cared to admit.
"You are both traitors to the Club!" exclaimed Betty. "The idea of preferring riding to walking!"
"Oh, it's only once in a while," added Mollie. "Really, pet, we've had a perfectly grand time."
"Even with the dog," added Amy, who was now herself again. "I was silly to run."
"I don't blame you," said the farmer, "and yet if you hadn't, maybe Nero wouldn't have chased you. It's a good thing not to run from a dog. If you stand, it let's him see you're not afraid."
"Put that down in your books, girls," directed Betty. "Never run from a dog. That advice may come in useful on our trip."