“There it comes,” cried Jane McCarthy.  “Sounds like rain on a tin roof, doesn’t it?”

The downpour rapidly grew heavier, accompanied by lightning and thunder.  The flashes were blinding, dazzling Jane’s eyes so that she had difficulty in keeping her car in the road.  It was now nearly evening, and an early darkness had already settled over the landscape.  There was little hope of more light, for night would be upon them by the time the storm had passed.  True, there would be a moon behind the clouds, but the latter bade fair to be wholly obscured during the evening.

Despite the blinding storm that masked the road, and the sharp flashes of lightning that dazzled the eyes of the driver, Crazy Jane McCarthy went on driving ahead at the same rate of speed until Miss Elting begged her to go more slowly.  Jane reduced the speed of the car, though so slightly as to be scarcely noticeable.

The guardian smiled but made no further comment.  Being shut in as they were, they would have difficulty in getting out were an accident to befall them.  All at once, however, Jane slowed down with a jolt.  She then sent the car cautiously ahead, this time driving out on a level grass plot at the side of the road.  There she shut down, turned off the power, and, leaning back, yawned audibly.

“Whoa!” she said wearily.

“Why, Jane, what is the matter?” cried Miss Elting.

“Like a sailboat, we can’t make much headway without wind.  As it happens, we have no wind on the quarter, as the sailors would say.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She means the tires are down,” explained Harriet Burrell.

“Yes.  I told Dad those rear tires were leaking, but he declared they were good for five hundred miles yet.”

“Can’t we patch them?” queried Harriet.

“We can,” replied Jane, “but we aren’t going to until this rain lets up a little.  Please don’t ask me to get out and paddle about in the wet, for I’m not going to do anything of the sort.”  Jane began to hum a tune.  Her companions settled back comfortably.  It was dry and cosy in the car and the travellers felt drowsy.  Jane was the only really wide-awake one.  Margery finally uttered a single, loud snore that awakened the others.  The girls uttered a shout and began shaking Margery, who pulled herself sharply together, protesting that she hadn’t been asleep for even one little minute.

“That ith the way thhe alwayth doeth,” observed Tommy.  “Then thhe denieth it.  I’m glad I don’t thnore.  Ithn’t it awful to thnore, Mith Elting?”

“Having too much to say is worse,” answered Jane pointedly.  “The storm has passed.  Let’s get out and fix things up.  Harriet, will you help me?  Miss Elting, if you will be good enough to engineer the taking-down of the side curtains and the lowering of the top I shall be obliged.  We shan’t need the top.  We aren’t going to have any more rain to-night, and I want all the light I can get, especially as we are going over strange roads.  Have you been this way before?”