To
Phineas and the town in general she appeared to be devoted to this
breathless whizzing over the country roads; and wild horses could not
have dragged from her the truth: that she was longing with an
overwhelming longing for the old days of Dolly, dawdling, and peace.
Just where it all would have ended it is difficult to say had not the
automobile itself taken a hand in the game--as automobiles will
sometimes--and played trumps.
It was the first day of the county fair again, and Phineas and Diantha
were on their way home. Straight ahead the road ran between clumps of
green, then unwound in a white ribbon of dust across wide fields and
open meadows.
"Tain't much like last year, is it, Dianthy?" crowed Phineas, shrilly,
in her ear--then something went wrong.
Phineas knew it instantly. The quivering thing beneath them leaped into
new life--but a life of its own. It was no longer a slave, but a master.
Phineas's face grew white. Thus far he had been able to keep to the
road, but just ahead there was a sharp curve, and he knew he could not
make the turn--something was the matter with the steering-gear.
"Look out--she's got the bits in her teeth!" he shouted. "She's bolted!"
There came a scream, a sharp report, and a grinding crash--then silence.
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