Nothing seems to faize you, Hugh, Can't you just give me a little clue to feed on till you explain it all?
It's mean to stir me up like that, you know, old fellow." "All I can tell you now," said Hugh, who had discovered some one peeping out through the lace curtains at the parlor window, and knew how anxious Sue must be for him to run up the steps and ring the door bell, "is that it concerns Owen Dugdale.

So just let your curiosity-mill work on that until I can spin the whole odd yarn." "Whew! you've twisted me up worse than ever now," he heard Thad muttering, as he hastened to make for the door, where the eager Sue awaited him, having seen the car stopping at the curb.
As Ivy lived only a short block away, they speedily had her installed alongside the chattering Sue in the back seat; though possibly on the way home the girls might prefer to change partners, as Ivy was heard to say she just dearly loved to be alongside the chauffeur when out in a car, because the view was so much better.
On the road they passed several vehicles, all bound in the same direction.

Now it was a slow car that managed to roll along "like an ice-wagon," as Thad laughingly called out on going ahead.

Then again it was a buggy pulled by a horse; for there were actually a few of these almost extinct quadrupeds still to be found in some of the family stables of Scranton.
"Listen! that must be the carryall ahead of us," called out Thad, not venturing to turn his head when he spoke, because the road was rather poor, with ditches on either side, while the moon gave rather a poor light, since it had not yet risen above the haze near the horizon.
Some one aboard was noisily tooting the horn, for some boys seem to be up to all manner of mischief every hour of the day, and dearly love to make a noise in the world, even though it rasps on other people's ears distressingly.
Once they arrived at their destination, they found it a very gay scene.
The barn had been quite prettily decorated by some of the girls who had come out during the last two afternoons after school to sweep the floor, and instruct the farmer and his helper just where to hang the many lanterns they had fetched along.
There was Daddy Whitehead, with his famous fiddle, which he was already tuning up, so as to be ready to commence operations; while his "band," consisting of Abe Skinner and Mose Coffin, sat there with huge grins on their faces, and also an expectant look.

They had undoubtedly noted the huge hampers of eatables that came with each party, and could anticipate a delightful break in the monotony of sawing away, or blowing steadily into that oboe instrument.
Chattering girls and boys were soon strewn all about the place.