“Some things you must promise me, Patty,” said her father, seriously, as they drew near the house. “Never start out without knowing pretty definitely how long it will take you, and when you’ll return. Never go without being sure you have enough current for the trip. Of course, Miller will look after this for you, but I want you to understand it thoroughly yourself.”
“Yes, I want to learn all about the working parts, and how to repair them, if necessary.”
“That will come later. Learn to run it perfectly, first. And, too, I want you to promise never to start anywhere so late that there’s even a possibility of your being out after dark. I wouldn’t let you go out alone, or with a girl friend, in the city, but down here you may do so, if you never travel except by daylight. You understand, Patty?”
“Yes, father, and I promise. As you know, I only want to go on little, short drives, two or three hours, usually.”
“Very well. I trust you not to do anything of which I would disapprove. You’re a good girl, Patty; at least, you mean to be. But sometimes your enthusiasms and inclinations run away with you, and you have no sense of moderation.”
“H’m,” said Patty, smiling; “now I’ve been lectured enough for one lesson, father dear. Save the rest for another day, and watch me whiz up this drive to the house like an expert.”
She did so, and Nan, awaiting them, exclaimed with pride at Patty’s skilful driving.
“Your turn now, Nan,” the girl called out; then, mindful of her promise, she looked at her watch. “It’s just three,” she said. “Let’s go over to the Arbutus Inn Tea Room, have a cup of tea, and get back home before six? How’s that, father?”
“That’s all right, my good little girl. I don’t believe you’ll have any trouble running it, do you?”
“No, indeed! It’s as easy as pie! I just love to run it.”