"I don't know," replied Cora. "They haven't heard about my new auto, or they'd be sure to come."
"Let's run over and tell them," proposed Jack.
Cora thought for a moment. She had plans for the evening, but they did not include Jack.
She said finally: "I have to write a few letters—acknowledging some birthday gifts. Don't wait for me if you intend to go over to Walter's. You might call at the Robinsons', however, to fetch me; say at half-past nine."
"Oh, then I'm not to see Bess or Belle—or—well, there are plenty of other girls just as keen on ice cream sodas as those mentioned," and he pretended to leave the room, as if his feelings had been hurt.
"Now; you know, Jack, I always want you with me, but—"
"But just to-night you don't. All right, little sister. After me running that machine up from the garage for you, and not even scraping the tires; after me—even kissing you! Fie! fie! little girl. Some day you may want another machine—or a kiss—"
"Children, children," called Mrs. Kimball, "are you coming to dinner? And are you going to put that machine in the shed before dark, Jack?"
"Both—both, mum! We were just discussing a discussion about the—the machine, girls and ice cream sodas."
"What nonsense!" exclaimed his mother with a laugh. "Come to dinner, do. But, Jack, run the machine in first, please."