This brought no response, and Patty grew angry again.
“Shoo! Cow! Shoo! Get out of the road! If you don’t, I’ll—I’ll——” But she could think of no direful deed that would affect the cow, so she paused. Then she resorted to sarcasm: “A nice sort of cow you are, anyway! Alone and unattended on a country road! Why, anybody might kidnap you! Where’s your cow-herd, or whatever you call him?”
“Patty, don’t be silly,” said Nan, choking with laughter. “Get out and chase the cow away. Hit her with a stick, or something. Throw a little stone at her,—just a very little one. Don’t hurt her!”
Patty’s eyes grew round with horror.
“Why, Nan Fairfield, I’m more afraid of that cow than of all the automobiles in the world! I’m terribly afraid of cows! I’m more afraid of cows than of anything, except a mouse! But a mouse wouldn’t block up the road so dreadfully. Nan, you get out and chase the cow.”
“No,—no,” said Nan, shuddering. “I’m afraid of cows, too. Patty, I’ll tell you what! Steer around the cow!”
“Just the thing! I believe there’s just about room enough. If she’ll only stay in the middle, now. Which side do you think there’s more room, Nan?”
“On the right. Go round her on the right.”
There was plenty of room, and Patty steered carefully out toward the right, and passed the cow safely enough.
“Hurrah!” she cried, but she hurrahed a trifle too soon.