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Wells, Carolyn, 1862-1942

"Patty's Butterfly Days"

The road was so level and so free of
obstruction that they kept the centre, and seemed to be shooting,
at whistling speed, into that enormous yellow circle.
But, already, the horizon was swallowing up their goal. The
laughing quartette saw the circle of gold become a semi-circle,
then a mere arc, and soon only a glimpse of yellow remained, which
immediately vanished, and save for a faint reminiscent glow, the
western sky was dark.
"Where are your stars?" queried Farnsworth, gazing upward. "Nice
country, this! No stars, no moon, no nothin'!"
"The lamps give enough light," cried Daisy. "Don't slow down,
Bill! Go on, this flying is grand!"
"Come on in,--the flying's fine!" laughed Bill, and again they
went at highest speed.
But with the setting of the moon, Patty's spirit of adventure
calmed down.
"Oh, do let's turn back," she begged. "He doesn't hear me,--make
him hear, Jack."
"I say, Farnsworth," and Jack tapped the burly shoulder in front
of him, "we've gone far enough. Back to the old home, eh?"
"Back it is!" and the driver slowed down, and picking a wide,
clear space, deftly turned the machine around. But at sight of the
eastern sky, every one exclaimed in dismay.
Though the moon had set clearly, and the west was a dull grey, the
eastern sky was black.


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