It faded soon into a gray fog, with puffs of wind from the southwest again.
Gray Peter had been fresher than Sally at the end of the run of the day before.
"We'll let the men wrestle with the unpacking, girls," decided Mrs. Gray.
"I think I'll wait for you on the veranda, children," said Mrs. Gray.
Then I come on a slab of gray stone upstanding about fifteen feet.
Thank goodness and Mrs. Gray, there are no carpets to be laid.
"You are in splendid condition, Elfreda," praised Mrs. Gray.
Gray Peter's heart was never in doubt, but what would Sally's courage be in a pinch?
All in all, Gray Peter was a glorious machine; Sally was a tricky intelligence.
Dozier kept Gray Peter at a steady pace, never varying his gait.
