The day before had been very warm, and Mrs. Welch’s journey had not been a comfortable one, and this last catastrophe capped the climax. But she did not complain—she considered querulousness a sin—it was a sign of weakness. Perhaps, she even found a certain satisfaction in her discomfort. She had not come for comfort. But when the harness broke for the half-dozenth time, she asked:
“Why don’t you keep your harness in good order?”
The somewhat apathetic look in the driver’s face changed.
“‘Tain’t my harness.”
“Well, whosever it is, why don’t he keep it in order?”
“You’ll have to ask Dill that,” he said, dryly.
When, a few minutes later, they came to their next stand she began again:
“Why don’t you keep your roads repaired and rebuild your fences?”
“I don’t live about here.” This time the tone was a little shorter.