Eleanor had been grinning at the officer’s reply, and now she could not withstand the temptation to answer: “From the Cannibal Isles.”
The crowd standing about the two cars, laughed—all but the policeman. He scowled at Eleanor and said: “Be careful, young lady, or I’ll take you along for contempt of court.”
“But you are not arresting me, and this is not Court,” argued Eleanor.
“Oh, goodness me! Is he going to arrest me?” cried Dodo.
“If you don’t answer my questions promptly, I’ll arrest you,” returned the officer, severely.
“Well, I am from Denver, Colorado, where folks don’t fuss like you do in the East, just because you cross a street to get to the other side!” declared Dodo, in self-justification.
“From Denver! Got a New York license to drive?” said he.
“No, I haven’t, but I’ve driven all over England and the Continent this Summer—as these girls will tell you. They were in the party.”
“It’s nothing to me whether you drove up the Matterhorn and down the other side; as long as you can’t show me a plain old American license, you’ll have to pay the costs.”
“How much is it?” quickly asked Dodo, taking her purse out to settle the bill.