“Chapman! Isn’t there a village near? And a real estate office?”
“Harrimay is right over the hills, Miss Jessie,” said the chauffeur.
“Drive there at once, please,” said the girl. “And stop at the office of the first real estate agent whose sign you see.”
“For goodness sake, Jess!” drawled Amy, her eyes twinkling, “you don’t mean to buy the Gandy farm, do you?”
CHAPTER XX
SOMETHING DOING AT THE STANLEYS’
Chapman drove the automobile down into Harrimay only ten minutes later. It was a pretty but rather somnolent place, just a string of white-painted, green-blinded houses and two or three stores along both sides of an oiled highway. It was a long ten-minute jitney ride from the railway station.
“Perkins, Real Estate” faced the travelers from a signboard as they drove into the village. Chapman stopped before the office door, and the eager Jessie hopped out.