“Oh, just a whim. Girls want all that’s coming to them, and a night at a Wayside they count among their required experiences, don’t you know. And the old folks being along made it particularly all right,” declared Jack.
“But they’ll beat us by an hour now,” almost sighed Walter, who was becoming famous among his chums for his keen interest in the girls and their doings.
“Not much,” answered Jack. “They are going the long way ’round. Do you suppose they would go over the new road? Why, the dust would blind Cora if she made a single mile of that grind and grit.”
“Well, after my beauty bath, I’ll be about ready,” observed Walter. “Ed, don’t put too much witch-hazel on your locks. Makes me think of the day after fourth of July, when I went to grandmama’s.”
“Not half as bad as your new gloves. They give me a regular spell of the pig skin fever. I’ll bet they’re made out of junk, and you got stuck. Three dollars for a pair of gloves to save your lily-white hands—your lily-white hands!” and he ended in the strain of the familiar college song.
“Well, I’ll be going,” said Jack. “See to it that neither of you fellows do so much primping that we miss our—guess,” and with that the three young men parted, each going his own way to make ready for the run after the motor girls.
[CHAPTER XIV—LOST ON THE ROAD]
“Look out there, Walter. Do you want the Comet to run into the Whirlwind?”
“We are getting pretty close,” answered Walter, shutting off the power and coasting with the emergency brake partly on, for he found he was covering a hill too quickly. “I guess we can run alongside here. It’s a good enough road.”
Jack brought the Get There in line with the other runabout. “My, but that shower is coming up quickly. I’ll bet the girls are about scared to death,” he said. “Cora isn’t particularly afraid of thunder showers, but I know Belle is.”