She hopped back behind the steering wheel. The fleshy woman climbed into the tonneau and held the still shrieking girl. The car started with a dash, the door of the tonneau flapping.
“Oh! This isn’t right!” gasped Jessie.
“They are running away with her, Jess,” murmured Amy. “Isn’t it exciting?”
“It’s mean!” declared her chum with conviction. “How dare they?” 15
“Why, to look at her, I think that skinny woman would dare anything,” remarked Amy. “And—haven’t—you seen her before?”
“Never! She doesn’t live around here. And that car is strange.”
The car had turned into the boulevard and headed out of town. When the girls walked back to the broad highway it was out of sight. It was being driven with small regard for the speed laws.
“I guess you are right,” reflected Amy. “I never saw that car before. It is a French car. But the woman’s face––”
“There was enough of that to remember,” declared Jessie, quite spitefully.
“I didn’t mean the fat woman’s face,” giggled Amy. “I mean that the other woman looked familiar. Maybe I have seen her picture somewhere.”