“No-o?” she inquired, with all the mockery she dared employ.
They were interrupted by a question from Kemp, who was now discussing automobiles with Irene. Kemp invited Trenton’s support in his defense of the limousine in which they had driven to The Shack. The car was not to Irene’s liking and she warned him never to buy another of the same make. Kemp tried to explain why he had not met her wishes in the matter. The car was a product of his home town and the manufacturer was a friend and it was his policy to patronize local industries. Grace thought it ridiculous that Irene should show so much feeling about a matter which was, strictly speaking, none of her concern. The car had seemed to Grace a machine of much splendor and it had borne them speedily and comfortably to the farm. She was unable to understand why her friend was so earnestly denouncing it.
“Don’t let them bother you,” said Trenton, “they get into a row about cars every time I’m here. Their ignorance is pitiful; neither one of them knows a thing about it.”
“Who doesn’t know anything about cars?” demanded Irene testily.
“Ah! I’ve wakened the enemy’s pickets,” laughed Trenton. “You two ought to remember that just six weeks ago tonight you threshed out the whole business. You ought to know by this time, Irene, that Tommy is as obstinate as a mule. He’d be sure to buy the very car you warned him against.”
“Oh, I knew all the time that’s what he’d do. Of course I don’t have to be satisfied. But I’d rather ride in a jitney,” Irene rejoined scornfully.
“Knowing your aristocratic taste I don’t see you,” said Kemp, turning to the others. “We are not really fussing today; it’s just a little sketch we’re putting on. Irene and I never quarrel. I just lead her on for the joy of seeing how ignorant she is about the things she spouts about the loudest.”
The talk now shifted to the theatre, it appearing that Kemp in his business trips to New York found time to cultivate the acquaintance of many actors and actresses. Irene had met some of them, both in New York, where she seemed to have encountered Kemp on her buying excursions for Shipley’s, and at home, where Kemp always “threw a party” for his particular admirations among theatrical people when they visited Indianapolis. Apparently these parties had been very gay from the manner in which Irene and Kemp referred to them. They recounted with particular delight an occasion on which the star of a musical comedy had with the greatest difficulty been put into condition to resume his itinerary after a Saturday night at The Shack. Irene was moved to immoderate laughter at the recollection.
“When he gets a bun he’s ever so much funnier off the stage than he ever is on. He climbed out of a window when we were trying to get him in shape to go to his train and would you believe it!—we found him in the barnyard talking to a pig! Then he cried to take the little brown piggy with him; he said he wanted it for his understudy. He was perfectly screaming about that silly little pig, and we fooled around so long he missed the last possible train and Tommy had to drive him clear to Chicago for a Sunday night opening. He kept saying every time we told him he had missed another train that he would wait till it came back! You couldn’t beat that!”
Grace and Trenton were laughing more at Irene’s enjoyment of her own story than at the incident itself. They learned that the comedian had finally been landed at the stage door of the Chicago theatre where he was to appear barely in time to dress for his part. Kemp was enthusiastic about the drive, which had broken all records. He interrupted Irene’s story with many details of the flight which she had forgotten.