“Wish I were a boy,” groaned Tavia.
“I’ve heard you express that wish a thousand times,” declared Dorothy.
“This is the thousand-and-wunth time then! Look at how easy they have it, Doro! All they have to do is put a clean collar and a toothbrush in their pockets, and start for a tour of Europe!”
It was a long journey over the forest-covered ridge to Portersburg. They started at nine o’clock so as to be sure to be on time at the railway station. The chauffeur who drove Mrs. White’s machine would chain the cars together and bring them—with Joe and Roger—back to the Cedars, after seeing the tourists off for the West.
Dorothy kissed the Major good-bye. “My little Captain” he still called her. Major Dale was very proud of his daughter.
They got away at last, the Fire Bird in the lead. There would be no moon until after midnight, so they had to depend entirely upon the headlights for the discovery of any obstruction in the road.
Nat was under the wheel and he had insisted upon Tavia sitting beside him. Naturally Ned was glad to get Dorothy to himself in the tonneau. It was a tight squeeze for the latter couple, for the motor car was overburdened with baggage.
“Are you comfortable, Doro?” shouted Tavia, turning to look at her chum.
“Just as comfortable as I can be with the end of Nat’s dress-suit case poking me in the back, and a bundle of umbrellas right across my poor shins. Oh! I did not dream it would be so uncomfortable.”
“Our dreams seldom come true,” declared Tavia, sentimentally.