“Never mind the clocks, Patty,” said Helen good-naturedly. “I’ll be ready.” She scampered off to dress, and sure enough was entirely ready before the carriage came.
“You see, Patty,” she said, “we can do things on time, only we’ve fallen into the habit of not doing so, unless there’s somebody like you here to spur us up.”
Patty admitted this, but told Bumble that she was sorry her influence was not more lasting.
On Saturday they started with the Banks’s on the automobile trip. Mrs. Allen provided Patty with a long coat for the journey, and a veil to tie over her hat. Not being accustomed to motoring, Patty did not have appropriate garments, and Mrs. Allen took delight in fitting her out with some of Nan’s.
Mr. Banks’s motor-car was of the largest and finest type. It was what is called a palace touring car, and represented the highest degree of comfort and luxury.
Patty had never been in such a beautiful machine, and when she was snugly tucked in the tonneau between Mrs. Allen and Ethel, Mr. Banks and Mr. Allen climbed into the front seat, and they started off.
The ride to Atlantic City was most exhilarating, and Patty enjoyed every minute of it. There was a top to the machine, for which reason the force of the wind was not so uncomfortable, and the tourists were able to converse with each other.
“I thought,” said Patty, “that when people went in these big cars, at this fearful rate of speed, you could hardly hear yourself think, much less talk to each other. What’s the name of your car, Mr. Banks?”
“The Flying Dutchman,” was the reply.