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 will be cared for and petted and they won’t miss us.”

Reuben and Clover, Mr. Gordon had said, were to be disposed of as Betty and Bob chose.  The horses were theirs to give away or sell as they preferred.  Bob had instantly decided to give his mount to Dave Thorne, the section foreman, who had shown him many kindnesses and who was delighted to get a trained saddle horse.  Horses were very scarce in that section of the country, and Mr. Gordon had gone to considerable trouble to get these.

Betty had elected to give Clover to the new superintendent’s daughter, the girl who was to move with her parents into the old Saunders farmhouse.  Betty had never seen her, but knew she was about fourteen or fifteen and eager to learn to ride.

The day before they were to start for Washington, Bob and Betty rode the horses up to the oil fields and gave them into the charge of Dave Thorne.  The superintendent was already on the ground but his family and furniture were not due for a week.

Clover and Reuben bore the parting better than their young mistress and master, and Betty was glad when all the good-byes had been said and they stepped into the Watterby car which Mrs. Watterby had driven up for them.  The fields were about eight miles from her house.

“You’ll be happier when once you’re on the train, Betty,” said good Mrs. Watterby, glancing swiftly at Betty’s clouded face, “This going around saying good-bye to people and things is enough to break anybody up.  Now to-morrow me and mother won’t weep a tear over you—­you’ll see.  We’re glad you’re going to school to have a good time with all those young folks.  Now what’s that Chinaman want?”