CHAPTER XVI
BENEDICTA MAKES IT GO
“SAY, Miss Polly, I wish you’d let me run that machine o’ yours.”
The girl turned from her Singer with a welcoming smile.
“Why, I will, Benedicta. I’ll teach you any time. It isn’t much to learn. Or if you want some stitching done, I’ll do it for you gladly.”
“Mercy, no!” laughed the housekeeper. “I manipulated that long before you was born—I mean, one just like it. What I’m yearning for is to be sittin’ up in your chariot, makin’ it go like the dickens.”
“My car?—Oh!” gasped Polly. “I thought you meant this.”
“Don’t you s’pose I c’u’d learn? Or would you be afraid I’d spile it?”
“No, indeed! you wouldn’t hurt the car—unless you should take a flying leap down to Overlook village.”
“Guess I won’t cut up no such idiot caper as that,” laughed Benedicta. “But, my! if I could make it go, I’d be so imperious you’d think I belonged to the court of Spain.”
Polly chuckled. “It is easy enough to make it go,” she said, “but somewhat of a stunt to get to where you can keep it under perfect control. Still, you are quick of thought and have a level head; I don’t doubt you can make a good driver. The only trouble is, you are so fearless you might take risks; that isn’t wise. You and I will go out this afternoon and see what we can do, unless you are too tired when you get through with your work.”