“Oh, everybody feels that way when they first own a car. I’ve often noticed it. Sometimes they want to ride entirely alone, and just revel in automobility.”
“Gracious, Nan! What a word! Well, I might want to go all alone once in a while; but usually I want some one to rave about it all with me.”
“Well, I’m ready to rave at any time. Isn’t that the Inn, off there to the right?”
“Yes, so it is. How quickly we’ve come! Nan, there’s a line of poetry in my mind, and I can’t think of it.”
“Oh, what a catastrophe! Is it the only line you know?”
“Don’t be silly. But, truly, I do want to think of it, for it’s about the name of this car.”
“Perhaps a cup of tea will quicken your wits.”
“Perhaps. Well, we’ll try. Jump out, Nan; here we are.”
By a clever little contrivance, Patty could lock her car, and so feel sure it would not be tampered with. In a country place, like this somewhat primitive roadhouse where they now were, this was a decided satisfaction.
The Tea Room, though small, was dainty and attractive. It was kept by two pleasant-faced spinsters, and, though their clientèle was not large, they sometimes served guests at several tables.