D.'s.
"Oh, Dick Humbird and Kerry Holiday and Jesse Ferrenby and--oh about five or six.

Speed it up, kid!" In ten minutes Amory was devouring cornflakes in Renwick's, and at nine-thirty they bowled happily out of town, headed for the sands of Deal Beach.
"You see," said Kerry, "the car belongs down there.

In fact, it was stolen from Asbury Park by persons unknown, who deserted it in Princeton and left for the West.

Heartless Humbird here got permission from the city council to deliver it." "Anybody got any money ?" suggested Ferrenby, turning around from the front seat.
There was an emphatic negative chorus.
"That makes it interesting." "Money--what's money?
We can sell the car." "Charge him salvage or something." "How're we going to get food ?" asked Amory.
"Honestly," answered Kerry, eying him reprovingly, "do you doubt Kerry's ability for three short days?
Some people have lived on nothing for years at a time.

Read the Boy Scout Monthly." "Three days," Amory mused, "and I've got classes." "One of the days is the Sabbath." "Just the same, I can only cut six more classes, with over a month and a half to go." "Throw him out!" "It's a long walk back." "Amory, you're running it out, if I may coin a new phrase." "Hadn't you better get some dope on yourself, Amory ?" Amory subsided resignedly and drooped into a contemplation of the scenery.