His nonsense appeared to be as popular in that part of town as it
was unpopular in another. They gave the varsity yell with his name
at the end.
The day came when Mrs. Todd risked her life in our sportive company.
She made it clear to us that she went protesting. She began her
pleasantries by complaining that my doors were trivial.
Straightening her hat, she remarked that the John Quincy Burtons'
car top never took a woman's scalp off.
"But theirs is only a one-man top," Todd hinted vaguely.
"Whatever you mean by that is too deep for me," she said, adding
bitterly, "Yours is a one-boy top, I presume."
He waived the point and asked where she preferred to make her debut
as an automobilist.
"Back roads, by all means," she answered.
As we gained the street a pea-green Mammoth purred past, the
passengers putting out their heads to look at us.
"Goodness!" she sighed. "There go the John Quincy Burtons now."
"We can soon join them," said Todd confidently.
She expostulated. "Do you think I have no pride?" Yet we went in
pursuit of the John Quincy Burton dust-cloud as it moved toward the
park.
"Since you have no regard for my feelings," said she, "you may let
me out."
"Oh, no, Amanda, my dear.
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