“Well, I’m not,” declared Horace. “It’s the most impossible thing I ever heard of. Furniture couldn’t wash upstream all the way from Roulsville. This is a different stream, anyway. I believe it flows into the Genessee.”
“Meta Hanley said it did,” Holly put in.
“Who’s Meta Hanley?” asked Honey.
“The matron of an orphanage—”
“The one where we stopped,” Horace interrupted. “We missed the turn and stopped there for directions. A woman was just driving up in a green car.”
“She didn’t have your typewriter, Holly,” Honey added. “She had her car loaded with apples for the orphans.”
“That was Miss Hanley all right.”
“She calls her car the Beetle, too. Did she tell you she’d brought us here?” asked Judy.
“Yes, she directed us to the woods road. She said it would be quicker and that it would save you that long walk through the woods after dark.”
“But Horace, what about our Beetle?” Judy wanted to know. “We’ll have to leave it parked where it is all night if we go back with you.”