“Yes,” she replied, rather defiantly. “You know I don’t do things by halves. If I’m going to have a motor, I want to go the whole figure. I told Mr. Godfrey I wanted a snappy, classy car: even if it was extreme: even if it was to cars what jazz is to music.”
Hugh looked at the salesman, but no sense of humor could be discerned in his earnest countenance. Hugh struggled with his own risibles and also with a desire to hug his aunt in public. It seemed the only way to deal with her.
“How were you going to get into it, Aunt Susanna?” he asked.
She gazed at the machine, observing for the first time that it had no doors.
“I—why—” she began.
“You wouldn’t want to turn a somersault every time you went for an outing, would you?”
She looked at him helplessly. “Don’t you like it, Hugh?” she asked faintly.
He looked again at the salesman to see if he was human. Apparently the depth of Miss Frink’s pocketbook was the only feature of the transaction which he was taking in.
“Let’s find something a little less sporty,” he continued. “You’ve a fine assortment here.”