“She may worry a little,” Mr. Bobbsey replied. “But she will know you children are all right as long as you are with me. She’ll guess what has happened—that we have either had a breakdown or are lost. Your mother won’t worry too much, I think.”
Mr. Bobbsey’s automobile was a large touring car, and there would be plenty of room for Bert and Nan to cuddle up and get what sleep they could on the back seats. Luckily there was a robe on the rail in the rear, and this could be put over the children to keep them warm. For, though it was almost summer, the nights were still cool.
“And I’ll put up the side curtains,” decided Mr. Bobbsey.
“Oh, I’ll curl up on the front seat. It won’t be the first time I’ve been out all night in an auto,” laughed Mr. Bobbsey.
With the side curtains on the car it really was snug and comfortable, and they would be protected even in the case of rain. But they could catch glimpses of the stars and did not think there would be a storm.
“Now for our supper!” cried Mr. Bobbsey cheerfully.
He divided the sandwiches, giving Nan and Bert the most, and the bottles of soda water were opened.
“I’ve a cake of chocolate, too,” said Bert, fishing up a square of milk chocolate from one pocket.
Night now settled down over the woods where the Bobbsey twins—at least, half of them—were lost. They ate and drank and then, curled up on the back seat, Nan and Bert listened to stories their father told them.
At first the children asked questions or made comments as the stories were told. But, after a while, Mr. Bobbsey noticed that the questions were shorter and farther apart. Soon he heard Bert and Nan breathing heavily.
“I believe they’re asleep,” he said softly.
He looked back, and, by the light of the dashboard lamp, he saw the twins slumbering. Mr. Bobbsey pulled the robe over them. Then, making himself as comfortable as he could in the front seat, he prepared to pass the night. He did not at once fall asleep, for he was thinking of many things.
“Queer how I got on the wrong road—for that’s what I must have done,” he mused. “And it’s queer that the old woman in the faded shawl would come up this lonely road. I wonder who she is? I wonder why she deserted Baby May?”
He could find no answers to these questions, so, after a while, he began to doze off. Before he knew it his eyes were closing, and he was slumbering.