“I guess that’s all we can do now,” said Cora. “Oh, dear, I thought I had fixed everything!”
“Don’t fuss, my dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Fordam. “It will be all right. Your car is so big that I’m really afraid of it.”
So it was arranged, and when a few other forgotten matters had been settled, Cora gave the last instructions to the care-taker of the Kimball home, and blew a blast on her auto horn as a signal to start.
“At last we are off!” sighed Eline, as she sat beside Cora. “It seems as if time moves slowest of all at the end.”
“It really does,” agreed Cora. “I’m glad we are able to start. When I saw that blaze in the garage–Oh, my dear, you’ve no idea how my heart sank. It almost stopped beating.”
“I can imagine so. What a pretty suit you have,” and she glanced admiringly at Cora’s smart motoring costume. It was a light biscuit shade, of a material that would stand wear, and not show the stains of travel.
“Your own is fully as pretty–perhaps a little too nice,” returned Cora. Eline had made rather elaborate preparations for her Eastern trip, as regarded dress. But she was within good taste, for she ran much to harmonizing shades–perhaps too much so.
“Are we going at this snail’s pace all day?” cried Jack to his sister. “Can’t you move faster?”
“We want the good people of Chelton to have a chance to admire us,” called Belle.
“Shall we pass her?” asked Norton of Walter. “My car can easily get ahead of the Whirlwind.”