"You've been out of town, haven't you?" I asked when the talk began to
flag, as it soon does with Hughy.
"Aw, yes," he said; "pickin' up a record or two, with my 'mobe;' y' ought
to see it; it's a beauty, gasolene, you know. Awful nuisance, punctures,
though. Cost me thirteen dollars to repair one; vulcanize the tire, y'see.
Tires weigh thirty pounds each; awful lot, ain't it? Stripped one right
off, though, trying to turn in the mud; fastened on with half-inch spikes,
too. Can't I persuade you to--aw--take a spin some day? Where's Mrs.
Whitney?"
"Gone to the country; she--she's ill."
"Awful tabby, wa'n't she?"
"Oh, no; I like her very much, but she was in a hurry to leave town."
"So Aunt Terry said. Awf'ly down on you, Aunt Terry is," he drawled with
even more than his usual tactlessness, "but I stand up for you, I assuah
you, Miss Winship. I tell her you're awf'ly sensible an' jolly--lettin' a
fellow come like this, now, and talk to you's jolly, ain't it? An' you
will try my mobe? Awf'ly jolly 'twould be to take a spin."
"Very jolly indeed," I said. I turned my head that I might not see his
shining scalp.
Pages:
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339