“Fortunately, I am a slow driver,” added Mr. Clayhorn. “Otherwise, I am afraid the little girl might have been thrown from her sled and seriously injured.”
Although Veve had not been hurt, she looked rather the worse for her adventure. The fast sled ride had not been any fun.
Ice had slashed into her face and her snowsuit was caked with mud and slush. She was all worn out too, from clinging so tightly to the bouncing sled.
“Thanks for bringing me home, Mr. Clayhorn,” she told him gratefully. “I never, never want to take another ride like that one.”
“I hope you never do,” he replied. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”
While the grownups talked, Connie helped Veve remove her sled from the luggage compartment of the gray sedan. One of the runners was bent where it had struck a stone in the road.
She was showing the place to Connie when her mother called: “Come, Veve! You must have a hot bath and climb right into bed. We’ll talk about this escapade later!”
“That means I’ll catch it!” Veve whispered to Connie. She was so tired, though, that she didn’t mind being put to bed.
After Mr. Clayhorn had driven away, Connie and her parents went into their own home.
The instant they opened the door, they knew something was wrong. Heavy black smoke filled the rooms.