Tish sat back and straightened her hat with a jerk.
“We’d better go back and do it again, Lizzie,” she said, “because you missed one or two things.”
“I did what you told me,” I replied, sullenly.
“Did you?” said Tish. “I don’t remember telling you to leap the creek. Of course, cross-country motoring has its advantages. Only one really should have solid tires, because barbed wire fences might be awkward.”
She then sat back and rested.
“Well?” I said.
“Well?” said Tish.
“What am I to do now?”
“Oh!” she said. “I thought you preferred doing it your own way. I don’t object, if you don’t. You are quite right. Roads do become monotonous. Only I doubt, Lizzie, if you can get over this stack. You’d better go around it.”
“Very well,” I said. “My own way is to walk home, Tish Carberry. And if you think I am going to steer a runaway automobile you can think again.”