Her eyes began to twinkle and gleam.
Suddenly she leaned forward and touched the driver on the shoulder.
"Young man," she said, "just you toot that horn suddenly and shave close
enough a few of those people, so that I can see how I look when I leap
for ragweed and snake fences."
The amazed chauffeur glanced questioningly at Philip who slightly
nodded. A second later there was a quick "honk!" and a swerve at a
corner. A man engrossed in conversation grabbed the woman to whom he was
talking and dashed for the safety of a lawn. The woman tripped in her
skirts, and as she fell the man caught and dragged her. Both of them
turned red faces to the car and berated the driver. Mrs. Comstock
laughed in unrestrained enjoyment. Then she touched the chauffeur again.
"That's enough," she said. "It seems a mite risky." A minute later she
added to Philip, "If only they had been carrying six pounds of butter
and ten dozen eggs apiece, wouldn't that have been just perfect?"
Billy had wavered between Elnora and the motor, but his loyal little
soul had been true to her, so the walk to the cottage began with him at
her side. Long before they arrived the little O'Mores had crowded around
and captured Billy, and he was giving them an expurgated version of Mrs.
Comstock's tales of Big Foot and Adam Poe, boasting that Uncle Wesley
had been in the camps of Me-shin-go-me-sia and knew Wa-ca-co-nah before
he got religion and dressed like white men; while the mighty prowess of
Snap as a woodchuck hunter was done full justice.
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