“That’s the way with a girl who gets into a nice little sport car,” Ruth continued to jokingly bewail, “she won’t get out. Here I could fit in there just as well as not.”
“Oh, come along,” interrupted Dudley. “I’ve got to get back.”
“And Babs might just as well finish the job,” Cara declared, perhaps a little anxious to have the “job” finished, for it was certainly very greatly interfering with her party.
Finally Dudley gave warning that he was ready and going to start, and then they were off.
Barbara held little Vicky in the back seat and its box-like arrangement at first appeared to frighten the child. She seemed to think it would snap shut on them, but again her brother’s words of assurance quieted her fears.
“Only to the track,” Nicky reminded Dudley as they neared the crossing. “Ain’t far from there.”
“All right, kid,” replied the boy driving, “we’ll dump you wherever you say.”
“And don’t worry,” said Barbara emphatically, “no one is going to your house, Nicky. We don’t even know where you live.”
“Sure,” said Nicky, his face beaming happily, as his friend Barbara Hale offered him the positive assurance that he might hide away from her and from her well-meaning friends.