Patiently, Lad lay there; waiting for the car to start.
He did not have long to wait.

In another minute or two, the Mistress and the Master came out from breakfast; and got into the front seat.
Then the car was breasting the winding slope of the drive, in first speed; the faint jar of the engine sending undulations over the mahogany-and-white coat of the stowaway dog.

And, in a minute more, they were out on the smooth highway, headed for the distant Catskills.
Now, Lad had not the remotest notion he was a stowaway.

On the few times when it had not been convenient to take him on drives, the Master had always bidden him stay at home.

And when, at such times, the dog chanced already to be its the car, he had been ordered back to earth.
There, was no way for Lad to know, this morning, that neither of the car's other occupants had seen him as he lay curled up on the floor, three-quarters hidden under the fallen rug.