“No, I really mean it,” declared Mrs. Fordam, earnestly.
“Wait until the boys begin to cut up,” warned Cora.
“Oh, I know Jack of old,” returned the chaperone. “He can’t do anything very bad.”
“They seem to be hatching up some sort of a plot back there,” remarked Eline, as she looked to the rear where Jack’s gaudy red and yellow car was careening alongside the Beetle–that owned by Norton. It had been so christened because of its low, rakish appearance, and the fact that it was painted a dead black. It was not a pretty car, but it had speed, as Norton often boasted.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt they will do something,” conceded Belle. “But we can do things too!”
They ran on for some distance, this stretch of the road being particularly fine. They were under a perfect arch of maple trees, which, being planted on either side of the road, mingled their branches over the centre, affording a delightful shade. It was needed, too, in a measure, for the sun, creeping higher and higher in the blue sky, was sending down beams of heat, as well as light. There was gentle wind, which was accentuated by the motion of the machines.
“Is it hard to learn to drive a car?” asked Eline, as Bess and Belle combined in telling Mrs. Fordam something of the excitement of the previous night, she not having arrived until it was over.
“It is, my dear, at first,” Cora explained. “Then it all seems to come to you at once. Why you’d never believe it, but first I used to imagine I was going to hit everything on the road. I gave objects such a wide berth that everyone laughed at me. But I did not want to take chances. Now watch!”
She speeded up a little, and turning to one side seemed to be headed straight for a tree.
“Oh!” screamed Eline, and Bess and Belle echoed the cry.