“Ran over a traffic officer’s foot!” exclaimed Miss Ashton, while the other two girls doubled up with laughter.
“Yes, he stopped me just as I was going to turn into a one-way street, and in twisting the car around so as to keep on straight ahead, his foot got in the way and I ran over it——”
“But Mart,” gasped Jeanette, “what did he do?”
“What could he do? He was peeved, of course; but it was his own fault for keeping his old foot too near my wheels.”
“Peeved—” began Nancy, but she could get no farther.
“But Martha,” protested Miss Ashton, “wasn’t the man hurt?”
“Not much, I guess, except his temper. It was just the edge of his foot, not the whole top of it.”
“I—never—heard—anything—quite—so funny,” stammered Nancy.
“Mart,” said Jeanette, when they had recovered from their spasm of mirth, “won’t you have to have a licensed driver in the car with you?”
“I suppose so,” replied Martha slowly. “I never thought of that.”