The Princess of the School | Page 7

turnovers, and slices of cake, and some
apples and oranges, and plenty of hot coffee in the thermos flasks.
"It's ever so much nicer to have one's meals out-of-doors, even in
January!" declared Bevis, munching a damson tartlet, and dropping
stones into the brook below. "I believe it's warm enough to wade. That
water doesn't look cold, somehow!"
"No, you don't!" said Lilias briskly. "You needn't think, just because
Miss Mason isn't here, you can do all the mad things you like. It's no
use beginning to unlace your boots, for I shan't let you wade, or
Clifford either! The idea! In January!"

"Why not?" sulked Bevis. "I didn't ask you, Lilias. Everard won't say
no!"
"You can please yourselves," answered his eldest brother, "but I'm
going to take the car on now. If you stay and wade, you'll have to walk
home, that's all! I certainly shan't came back for you."
At so awful a threat the youngsters, who had really meant business
where the water was concerned, hurriedly relaced their boots, and ran
to take their places in the car; the girls finished packing the remains of
the picnic in the basket, and followed, and soon the engine was started
again, and they were once more flying along the road.
Everard had brought out the family for a joy-ride without any very
particular idea of where they were going, though he was steering
generally in the direction of the Cleland Hills. To his mind the chief fun
of the expedition lay in simply taking any road that looked interesting,
without regard to sign-posts. The others trusted implicitly to his powers
of path-finding, and had really not the slightest idea in what part of the
country they were traveling. After quite a long time, however, it
occurred to Lilias to ask where they were, and how long it would take
them to get home again.
"We've come such a roundabout route, I scarcely know," replied
Everard. "Those are the Cleland Hills in front of us, though, and if we
bowl straight ahead, and go over them, we shall get to Clacton Bridge;
then we can get the straight highroad back to Cheverley."
"We shan't be home before it's dark, though?"
"Well, no! But the head lights are working all right--I tried them before
we started."
"It will be fun to drive in the dark!" chuckled the boys behind.
"I hope we shall be back before Grandfather and Cousin Clare,
though," said Dulcie a little uneasily.

The road over the Cleland Hills was much wilder than they expected,
and it was very stony and bad. Up and up they went till walls, hedges
and farms had disappeared, and only the lonely moor lay on either side
of the rough track. It was a place where no motorist in his senses would
have ventured to take a car, the extreme roughness of the road made
steering difficult, and the strain on the tires was enormous. Instead of
driving cautiously, Everard plunged along with all the hardihood of
youth, bumping anyhow over ruts and stones. They were just beyond
the brow of the hill when a loud bang, followed by a grinding sensation,
announced the bad news that one of their tires had burst.
"What beastly bad luck!" lamented Everard, getting out to inspect the
injured cover. "It might have had the decency to keep up till we had
reached civilization! Well, there's nothing for it but to put on the spare
tire. I've helped Milner to do it before, so I can manage. It's a bother we
left the spare wheel at home. I shall want some of you to help me,
though."
Everard had indeed rendered some assistance to the chauffeur on
various occasions, but it was quite another matter to perform the
troublesome operation of changing the tire with only two girls and
three young brothers to lend a hand. In their inexperienced enthusiasm,
they did all the wrong things, very nearly nipped the tube, mislaid the
tools, and pulled where they should have pushed. It was only after
nearly an hour's work that Everard at last managed to get the business
finished. The family, warm and excited, packed once more into the car.
"Well, I hope we shall have no more troubles now!" exclaimed Lilias,
who was growing tired and longing for home and tea. "What's the
matter, Everard?"
"Matter! Why, she won't start, that's all!"
Here was a predicament! Whether the bumping up the rough road had
thrown some delicate piece of mechanism out of gear, or the waiting in
the cold had cooled the engine, it was impossible to say, but nothing
that Everard could do would induce the car to start. He examined
everything which his rather limited knowledge of motorology

suggested might be the cause of the