Betty forgot to cry as Bob started the car so suddenly that it shot
forward like a live thing. He jammed on the brake and brought it to a
standstill so abruptly that Betty came very near to pitching through the
windshield.

"Couldn't you do it--er--more gently?" she hinted delicately.

"Hold fast and I'll try," grinned Bob. "As a chauffeur I'd be a
good iceman."

The second time he managed better, and the battered little car moved off
with less disturbing results.

In a very few minutes they had reached Doctor Morrison's garage.

The doctor urged Bob and Betty strongly to stay to supper with him and
promised beaten biscuit and honey, but although they knew the skill of
his old Southern cook very well, they had promised Grandma Watterby to be
there for supper and such a promise could not be disregarded.

"Well, anyway," said Betty soothingly, as they walked on toward the
Watterby farm, "when we ride Clover and Reuben up to the fields we won't
have to worry about how to make them go."

"No, that's so," agreed Bob. "But, Betty, I hate to think of giving up
Reuben. He isn't much to look at, but he has been a mighty good horse."

"I'd feel worse," declared Betty, "if we had to sell them to strangers.
We wouldn't know how they would be treated then. Now we are sure they