“Yes, indeed,” stammered Diantha, hastily smoothing out the frown on her face and summoning a smile to her lips--not for her best black silk gown would she have had Phineas know that she was wishing herself safe at home and the automobile back where it came from.
“We’ll go home through the Holler,” said Phineas, after she had retied her veil and they were ready to start. “It’s the long way round, ye know. I ain’t goin’ ter give ye no snippy little two-mile run, Dianthy, like Colonel Smith did,” he finished gleefully.
“No, of course not,” murmured Diantha, smothering a sigh as the automobile started with a jerk.
An hour later, tired, frightened, a little breathless, but valiantly declaring that she had had a “beautiful time,” Diantha was set down at her own door.
That was but the first of many such trips. Ever sounding in Phineas Hopkins’s ears and spurring him to fresh endeavor, were Diantha’s words, “I could ‘a’ rode on an’ on furever”; and deep in his heart was the determination that if it was automobile rides that she wanted, it was automobile rides that she should have! His small farm on the edge of the town--once the pride of his heart--began to look forlorn and deserted; for Phineas, when not actually driving his automobile, was usually to be found hanging over it with wrench and polishing cloth. He bought little food and less clothing, but always--gasolene. And he talked to any one who would listen about automobiles in general and his own in particular, learnedly dropping in frequent references to cylinders, speed, horse power, vibrators, carburetors, and spark plugs.
As for Diantha--she went to bed every night with thankfulness that she possessed her complement of limbs and senses, and she rose every morning with a fear that the coming night would find some of them missing. To Phineas and the town in general she appeared to be devoted to this breathless whizzing over the country roads; and wild horses could not have dragged from her the truth: that she was longing with an overwhelming longing for the old days of Dolly, dawdling, and peace.
Just where it all would have ended it is difficult to say had not the automobile itself taken a hand in the game--as automobiles will sometimes--and played trumps.
It was the first day of the county fair again, and Phineas and Diantha were on their way home. Straight ahead the road ran between clumps of green, then unwound in a white ribbon of dust across wide fields and open meadows.
“Tain’t much like last year, is it, Dianthy?” crowed Phineas, shrilly, in her ear--then something went wrong.
Phineas knew it instantly. The quivering thing beneath them leaped into new life--but a life of its own. It was no longer a slave, but a master. Phineas’s face grew white. Thus far he had been able to keep to the road, but just ahead there was a sharp curve, and he knew he could not make the turn--something was the matter with the steering-gear.