"Looks like it--for a while. I'll have to telephone Peters to bring
down a tire. Of course, to-day is the day we
didn't take it!"
Some minutes later the girl found herself on the cool piazza, in charge
of a wonderfully hospitable old lady, while down the road the good-
looking young fellow was making long strides toward the next house and a
telephone.
"We are staying at the Lindsays', in North Belton," explained the girl,
when he was gone, "and we came out for a little spin before dinner.
Isn't this Belton? I have an aunt who used to live here somewhere--Aunt
Jane Pendergast"
The old lady sat suddenly erect in her chair.
"My dear," she cried, "you don't mean to say that you're Jane
Pendergast's niece! Now, that is queer! Why, this was her very house--we
bought it when the old gentleman died last year. But, come, we'll go
inside. You'll want to see everything, of course!"
It was some time before the young man came back from telephoning, and it
was longer still before Peters came with the new tire, and helped get
the touring-car ready for the road. The girl was very quiet when they
finally left the house, and there was a troubled look deep in her eyes.
"Why, Belle, what's the matter?" asked the young fellow concernedly, as
he slackened speed in the cool twilight of the woods, some minutes
later.
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