From somewhere within the box came the groans and screams.

The gale swept the hilltop, and, for a quarter mile to leeward, the scenery was animated by soaring, fluttering copies of the Blazeton Courier, that swooped and ducked like mammoth white butterflies.
The panting and alarmed teacher stooped and peered into the dark shadow between the dashboard and the back curtain.

All she could make out at first were a pair of thin ankles and "Congress" shoes in agitated motion.

These bobbed up and down behind the overturned seat and its displaced cushion.
"O Mrs.Beasley!" screamed Phoebe.

"Are you hurt ?" Debby, of course, did not hear the question.