Jack frowned, and looked at the slight figure of the chauffeur with a returning doubt.
"He's all right on smooth roads, but this part needs a lot of driving. Another time----" He set his lips, and mentally rehearsed the complaints which he would make to "my father" when he paid the bill. Margaret gave a squeal, and looked doubtfully over the side.
"I--I suppose it's all right! What would happen if he lost control, and we slipped back all the way downhill?"
"It isn't a question of control. It's a question of the strength of the car. It's powerful enough for worse hills than this."
"What's that funny noise? It didn't sound like that before. Kind of a clickety-clack. . . . Don't you hear it?"
"No. Of course not. Don't be stupid and imagine things that don't exist. . . . What's the difference between----"
Jack nobly tried to distract attention from the car, but before another mile had been traversed, the clickety-clack noise grew too loud to be ignored, the car drew up wi