But Aggie and I said nothing. We knew Tish never
walked in her sleep. She had meant to try out
Jasper’s racing-car at dawn, forgetting that
racers have no mufflers, and she had been, as one may
say, hoist with her own petard—although
I do not know what a petard is and have never been
able to find out.
We drank our tea, but Tish refused to have any or
to reply to our knocks, preserving a sulky silence.
Also she had locked Aggie out and I was compelled
to let her sleep in my room.
I was almost asleep when Aggie spoke:—
“Did you think there was anything queer about
the way that Jasper boy said good-night to Bettina?”
she asked drowsily.
“I didn’t hear him say good-night.”
“That was it. He didn’t. I think”—she
yawned—“I think he kissed her.”
Tish was down early to breakfast that morning and
her manner forbade any mention of the night before.
Aggie, however, noticed that she ate her cereal with
her left hand and used her right arm only when absolutely
necessary. Once before Tish had almost broken
an arm cranking a car and had been driven to arnica
compresses for a week; but this time we dared not
suggest anything.
Shortly after breakfast she came down to the porch
where Aggie and I were knitting.
“I’ve hurt my arm, Lizzie,” she
said. “I wish you’d come out and crank
the car.”
“You’d better stay at home with an arm
like that,” I replied stiffly.
“Very well, I’ll crank it myself.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the drug store for arnica.”
Bettina was not there, so I turned on Tish sharply.
“I’ll go, of course,” I said; “but
I’ll not go without speaking my mind, Letitia
Carberry. By and large, I’ve stood by you
for twenty-five years, and now in the weakness of
your age I’m not going to leave you. But
I warn you, Tish, if you touch that racing-car again,
I’ll send for Charlie Sands.”
“I haven’t any intention of touching it
again,” said Tish, meekly enough. “But
I wish I could buy a second-hand racer cheap.”
“What for?” Aggie demanded.
Tish looked at her with scorn. “To hold
flowers on the dining-table,” she snapped.
It being necessary, of course, to leave a chaperon
with Bettina, because of the Jasper person’s
habit of coming over at any hour of the day, we left
Aggie with instructions to watch them both.
Tish and I drove to the drug store together, and from
there to a garage for gasoline. I have never
learned to say “gas” for gasoline.
It seems to me as absurd as if I were to say “but”
for butter. Considering that Aggie was quite
sulky at being left, it is absurd for her to assume
an air of virtue over what followed that day.
Aggie was only like a lot of people—good
because she was not tempted; for it was at the garage
that we met Mr. Ellis.
We had stopped the engine and Tish was quarreling
with the man about the price of gasoline when I saw
him—a nice-looking young man in a black-and-white
checked suit and a Panama hat. He came over and
stood looking at Tish’s machine.
