"Ha! fooling away your time same's usual, are you?" snapped the invalid, disapproval written large on her querulous features.
"She's feeling pretty well, for her," Mr. Moore said placidly. "But we hate to see winter coming. Then she can't get out of doors so much."
"I wish you would let me take you out in the car sometimes, Mrs. Moore," Janice said, smiling. "You could see the country while it is so beautiful."
"Huh! risk my neck and bones bein' driven about in one o' them things by a silly girl? Not much!"
"I guess she'd feel safer if I was shoofer," said Cross Moore grimly. "And I've a mind to get one o' them things next year."
"You will not, Cross Moore!" cried his wife, who made it a practice to oppose every suggestion—verbally, at least.
"Oh, I dunno," said the man cheerfully. "You know I've shoofered you in this here chair for many a year without an accident. I reckon I could graduate to an automobile seat pretty easy."
"Why! it's just as e-asy to learn," Janice said, smiling. "And think how far and how quickly you could go, Mrs. Moore."
"Huh! Why should I wish to go far or quick—me that ain't walked right for ten years? I've got all over sech desires."
"Wait till you have tried it," Janice cried as she touched the self-starter and the engine began to purr again.