“Then the only remedy that I can suggest is to have a cow-catcher built on the front of your car.”
“No; I’m not going to spoil the perfect lines of my beautiful Camilla by any unsightly device. You see, father, the lines of that car are simply perfect. I know this, because it says so in the booklet the company gave me. And it speaks quite highly of the car’s various points, and accessories, and really goes so far as to state that it is superior to any other car in the market! And the longer I use it, the more fully I agree with the booklet.”
“I’m glad your long experience justifies the company’s claims. Have you named the car Camilla?”
“Yes, because she scours the plain; don’t you remember how swift Camilla scoured the plain?”
“Yes, I remember, but it seems a more appropriate name for some patent cleaning powder.”
“Nonsense, daddy! Have you no poetry or romance in your soul? Swift Camilla is a lovely name for my car, and I mean to scour the plain for miles around. Come on, Nan, let’s go and tidy up for dinner. It’s getting late.”
“It is so,” said her father, “and, though I sha’n’t be too severe with you this time, I must mildly repeat that I want you hereafter to get home from your scouring expeditions before dark.”
“Sure!” cried Patty, gaily, blowing him a kiss from the tips of her fingers as she ran away.
The days flew by, and, as the weather was almost always fine, Patty went scouring with Camilla every day. Sometimes she took Nan, sometimes her father, and sometimes she went all alone for short drives up and down the coast. She had no trouble with the car’s mechanism, for it was really of superior make, and its management was simple. But one afternoon, when she asked Nan to go for a little spin, Nan replied: “I will later, Patty, but first I think we ought to go and call on Miss Galbraith. It is more than a week since she was here, and, in common courtesy, we ought to return her call.”