"Slightly inebriated," finished Betty drolly.

"Goodness, I don't know what that means," objected Mollie, "but it sounds
worse than what I was going to say. Now what's the matter?"

This last exclamation was caused by a sudden, grinding noise within the
machine and a jerking stop that jarred them all nearly out of their seats.

Mollie looked back over her shoulder with a despairing expression:

"Well, this certainly isn't our lucky day," she said, with forced calm.
"First we nearly get eaten up by a snake, and then the car breaks down--"

"But, Mollie, what's the matter?" cried Grace impatiently. "We can't stay
here. Can't you see?--there's a storm coming up."

"Well I didn't do it," snapped Mollie. "I do think, Grace, you can be the
most unreasonable--"

"Oh, please don't start anything else," cried Betty, herself a little on
edge with the rather exciting day's events. "Let's get out and see if we
can find what's wrong. We certainly can't do any good by talking about
it."

They got out, and Mollie even consented to "get under," but all to no
avail. The machine refused to be placated and stood stubbornly still in
the middle of the road while the storm clouds gathered and the first drops
began to fall.