“I'm a stupid clodhopper. Of course you may. By the way, Miss Sumner, does your uncle own a car?”
“I believe he does—a little old rattletrap which he drives himself.”
“Then I'll send George over with the Napier this afternoon. You might care to take a spin out into the surrounding country. By the way, Miss Sumner, you are to consider George and that car as your personal property. I fear you're going to find Sequoia a dull place; so whenever you wish to go for a ride, just call me up, and I'll have George report to you.”
“But think of all the expensive gasoline and tires!”
“Oh, but you mustn't look at things from that angle after you cross the Rocky Mountains on your way west. Moreover, mine is the only real car in the country, and I know you like it. What are you going to do this afternoon?”
“I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead.”
“For some real sport I would suggest that you motor up to Laguna Grande. That's Spanish for Big Lagoon, you know. Take a rod with you. There are some land-locked salmon in the lagoon—that is, there used to be; and if you hook one you'll get a thrill.”
“But I haven't any rod.”
“I'll send you over a good one.”
“But I have nobody to teach me how to use it,” she hinted daringly.