"Why DO you, Bill?" reiterated the irritating voice, and
Farnsworth's never very patient temper gave way.
"Shut up, Daisy!" he cried. "I'm doing the best I can,--but that's
all the good it does. We've got to stop. The gasolene is out!"
All of them, accustomed to motors, knew what this meant. Like a
flash, each mind flew back to think who was to blame for this. And
each realised that it was not the fault of the chauffeur at "Red
Chimneys" who had let them take out the car. For, had they not
said they were going only for a short spin? And the car had been
amply stocked for about two hours. Yes, it must be about two hours
since they started, for in their merry mood they had had no
thought of time, and had gone far, far inland.
"We can't stop," shrieked Daisy, "in this storm! No house or
shelter near! Bill Farnsworth, I'll NEVER forgive you for bringing
me into this pickle!"
Farnsworth gave a short, sharp laugh.
"I can get along without your forgiveness, Daisy, if I can only
get you people home safely. Great Cats, how it rains! I say,
Pennington, what do you think we'd better do? Where's Miss
Fairfield?"
Looking around suddenly, Bill saw no sign of Patty in the
nondescript heap by Jack's side.
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