"Cora Kimball! I'll—" but Bess, her face flaming scarlet, found no words to express her, at least pretended, indignation. "Come on, Belle," she cried. "We won't let a boy or young man ride in our car, not even if they beg us!"
"Oh, I didn't mean anything!" said Cora, contritely. But Bess simulated indignation.
The throb of motors soon told that the three girls were on their way. Cora in her powerful car, and the twins in their new one, both heading for the railroad station, though the train was not due yet for nearly half an hour, and the run would not take more than ten minutes.
"I wonder if Walter will stay on for a few days?" asked Belle of
Bess, who was steering.
"I should think so—yes. He'll probably want to see how Jack stands the trip. Poor Jack!"
"Isn't it too bad?"
"Yes, and that reminds me. I wonder if he couldn't—"
"Look out, for that dog!" fairly screamed Bess, as one rushed barking from a house yard. It was only instinctive screaming on the part of Bess, for it was she herself who "looked-out," to the extent of steering to one side, and so sharply that Belle gasped. And, even at that, the dog was struck a glancing blow by the wheel and with barks changed to yelps of pain, ran, retreating into the yard whence he had come, limping on three feet.
"Serves him right—for trying to bite a hole in our tires," murmured
Bess, with a show of indignation.
A slatternly woman, who had come to the door of the tumble-down house at the sound of the dog's yelps, poured out a volume of vituperation at the girls, most of it, fortunately, being lost in the chugging of the motor.