"But I am not a tramp, I assure you, Madam," said Tom, politely.
"Huh! ye look it," declared the woman, without any politeness at all.
And the boy did look rather dilapidated. He had gotten more than a little wet in the first of the shower, and he had pawed around among the "internal arrangements" of the balky auto to such purpose, that he was disheveled and oil-streaked from head to foot.
"I'm in disguise just now, Ma'am," laughed Tom, cheerfully. "But really, I have not come begging either food or lodging. Is your husband at home?"
"Yes, he is. And he'll be here in a minute and chase ye off the place—ef ye don't scat at once," said the woman, sourly. "He wouldn't hold back this dog, now, I tell ye."
"Please believe me, Madam," urged Tom, "that I am better than I appear. Our car broke down on the road yonder, and I have come to see if I can hire a team of horses to drag it into the Corners."
"Car? What kind of a car? Ain't no railroad here," she said, suspiciously.
The dog had barked himself breathless by now and they could talk a little easier. Tom smiled, as he replied:
"Huh! why didn't ye say so?" she demanded. "Tryin' to fool me. It's bad enough ter drive one o' them abominations over people's roads, but tryin' to make out ye air on a train—though, land o' Goshen! some of ye make 'em go as fast as airy express I ever see. Wal! what about your ortermobile?"