Roger climbed to his place, touched a lever by his side, and swung the car down the drive with an air of what seemed to Patty justifiable pride. The freshly cleaned car was so daintily spick and span, the day was so perfect, and the merry-hearted passengers in such a gay and festive mood, that there was indeed reason for a feeling of general satisfaction.
Away they went at a rapid speed, which Patty thought must be beyond the allowed limit, but Roger assured her to the contrary.
For many miles their course lay along a fine road which followed the shore of the Sound. This delighted Patty, as she was still able to gaze out over the blue water, and at the same time enjoy the wonderful motion of the car.
But soon their course changed and they turned inland, on the road to Hartford. Patty was surprised at Roger’s knowledge of the way, but the young man was well provided with road maps and guidebooks, of which he had made careful study.
“How beautifully the car goes,” said Patty. “It doesn’t make the least fuss, even on the upgrades.”
“You must learn the vocabulary, Patty,” said Roger. “When a machine goes smoothly as The Fact is doing now, the proper expression is that it runs sweetly.”
“Sweetly!” exclaimed Patty. “How silly. It sounds like a gushing girl.”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Roger, serenely. “If you go on motor trips, you must learn to talk motor-jargon.”
“All right,” said Patty, “I’m willing to learn, and I do think the way this car goes it is just too sweet for anything!”
They all laughed at this, but their gaiety was short-lived, for just then there was a peculiar crunching sound that seemed to mean disaster, judging from the expressions of dismay on the faces of the Farrington family.