"I know you don't. I suppose that's one reason I didn't tell you beforehand what I was up to."
"What have you been doing?"
"Reggie asked me to go on a long trip to try out his new car. It's a hummer. Hundred-and-twenty horse-power—bloody-eyed, fire-spitting devil—"
"Such cars are dangerous," severely commented Mrs. De Peyster, who still kept to her horses and carriage as better maintaining old-family distinction.
"I know. That's another reason I didn't tell you—especially since we were planning a thousand-mile lark."
"What's the matter with your hands?" suddenly demanded Mrs. De Peyster.
Jack gazed meditatively at the bandaged members.
"You were right about that car being dangerous, mother," said he. "I'll confess the whole business. We were whizzing around a corner coming into Yonkers this morning when the machine skidded. I did a loop-the-loop and lit on my hands. But the skin of my palms—"
"Oh!" shuddered Olivetta.