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252 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1916
We had been rather chary of motor boats, you may remember, since the time on Lake Penzance, when something jammed on our engine, and we had gone madly round the lake a number of times, with people on various docks trying to lasso us with ropes.
🔸We three were very comfortable at Mat Cottage, "Mat" being the name Charlie Sands, Tish's nephew, had given it, being the initials of "Middle-Aged Trio." Not that I regard the late forties as middle-aged. But Tish, of course, is fifty.
🔸Once before Tish had almost broken an arm cranking a car and had been driven to arnica compresses for a week;
🔸I have never learned to say "gas" for gasoline. It seems to me as absurd as if I were to say "but" for butter.
🔸Well, you know the rest—how Tish, trying to find how the gears worked, side-swiped the Bonor car and threw it off the field and out of the race; how, with the grandstand going crazy, she skidded off the track into the field, turned completely round twice, and found herself on the track again facing the way she wanted to go; how, at the last lap, she threw a tire and, without cutting down her speed, bumped home the winner, with the end of her tongue nearly bitten off and her spine fairly driven up into her skull. All this is well known now, as is also the fact that Mr. Ellis disappeared from the judges' stand after a word or two with Mr. Atkins, and was never seen at Morris Valley again.
🔸"He loves the God of America," said Tish. "Money!" Aggie jeered.
🔸Thus we do not believe that she willfully drove over every rut and thank-you-ma'am on the road, scattering us generously over the tonneau,
🔸"My friend's friend are my friend," he said. "America is my friend—this so great God's country!"
🔸As you know, this summer two years ago was a fairly good one, as summers go,—plenty of fair weather, only two or three really hot spells, and not a great deal of rain. Charlie Sands, Tish's nephew, went over to England in June to report the visit of the French President to London for his newspaper, and Tish's automobile had been sent to the factory to be gone over. She had been teaching Aggie to drive it, and owing to Aggie's thinking she had her foot on the brake when it was really on the gas, they had leaped a four-foot ditch and gone down into a deep ravine, from which both Tish and Aggie had had to be pulled up with ropes.
🔸With the hairpin one could easily make a fair fish-hook—and with a bootlace or a good hemp cord one could make a rabbit snare.
🔸[Now and then Tish's enthusiasms have brought us into collision with the law—not that Tish has not every respect for law and order, but that she is apt to be hasty and at times almost unconventional.]
🔸"Drive onto the lawn, Hutchins," she said. "When the worms [for fishing] come up, the lamps will dazzle them and they'll be easy to capture."
We bumped over a gutter and came to a stop in the middle of the lawn.
🔸We had meant to go to Europe this last summer, and Tish would have gone anyhow, war or no war, if we had not switched her off onto something else. "Submarines fiddlesticks!" she said.
🔸"Lizzie, you're fat." "I'm as the Lord made me," I replied with some spirit. "Fiddlesticks!" said Tish. "You're as your own sloth and overindulgence has made you. Don't blame the Good Man for it."
🔸"Jumping Jehoshaphat!" said Tish in an angry tone. It is rare for Tish to use the name of a Biblical character in this way, but she was clearly suffering.
🔸She's young," he added, "and he said she could be as great a hit as Mary Pickford."
🔸"A woman!" he said in most unflattering amazement. "Great Jehoshaphat, a woman!" This again is only a translation of what he said.
🔸Just then his eyes fell on Aggie, and he screeched:— "Two women and a Turk, by ——." The blank is mine.