"I’m not fretting about gasolene," said Bartlett. "I want something to eat. Let’s all go to that house—" "We can’t leave the car," objected the general. "No one could go off with the car," argued Henrietta. "And we can get them to send a horse," added Bartlett. "I am starving." "I feel like the car," said Billy. "I have no gasolene." "I can not leave the car," reiterated the general, and Henrietta realized that that settled it as far as the general was concerned, and that it would take her greatest tact to unsettle it. "I will go and get a farmer and a horse," said the Watermelon, unexpectedly siding with the general. "We would have to be here anyway, to see that they towed it in right." "A horse would do," said Billy gravely. "We don’t need the farmer." "I have hopes of Billy sometimes," said Bartlett, regarding his daughter quizzically. "I sometimes even think that she may grasp the difference between sunshine and rain and realize it’s best to keep out of the latter." Billy looked hurt. "Father doesn’t like me any more," said she, adding shrewdly, "He thinks I’m getting rather too old for him, anyway." Bartlett blushed, Henrietta laughed and the general roared. "You grown-up daughters are so hard to explain," said he. "Not once do you offer to be a sister to us." "I wouldn’t be a sister to father for anything," protested Billy. "He must be fifty, at least." Bartlett flushed angrily. He dared not glance at Henrietta. "I am forty-five," said he coldly, which was at least two years and a half as near the truth as Billy’s rash statement. "Yes," sneered Billy. "And I’m only eighteen." Henrietta changed the subject. When one is eighteen one can announce the fact loudly and cheerfully. When one is thirty-five, one prefers to talk of other things. "Why not all go for the horse? The car will be all right, father; and I am so hungry," she added pathetically. *CHAPTER XIX* *A BROKER PRINCE* "I am going," said Billy with determination. "We can’t leave the general alone," objected Bartlett. "I don’t see how I would be able to help the general any," returned Billy in injured accents. "I thought you could push him in the car," explained Bartlett with gentle sarcasm. "You all wait here," said the Watermelon. "I will go and get you something to eat and see about having the car towed, also about rooms for the night." "Why not all go?" pleaded Henrietta. "Why wait here starving—" "I can go faster alone," answered the Watermelon. "Certainly, certainly," seconded the general. "We would have to help you girls over every wooden fence and under every barb wire one we came to. You would probably even then get stuck on one or under the other." "I never get stuck on anything," contradicted Billy perversely. Henrietta laughed. "Billy, cheer up. The worst is yet to come."