"
At the Mountain Dale Club Todd descended.
"Will you come in and have a lemonade, my dear?" he asked. There was
a heartbroken little squeak in his voice.
"Thank you," she replied frigidly. "I have had all the acid I can
assimilate in one pleasant day."
"May I remind you," said he, stiffening with the gentle insistence
of a steel spring, "that I am not to be addressed in sarcastic tones
any longer?"
The Mammoth slid up beside us. The stout John Quincy Burton at the
wheel shouted jovially: "I tell you what, Todd, when our soberest
university professors get the speed bug, I tremble for civilization!"
My owner grinned with pleasure.
"Mrs. Todd," said Burton, "after that trimming from your
road-burning husband, I'll stand treat. Won't you join us?"
"Yes, Mrs. Todd, do be persuaded," Mrs. Burton chimed in. "After
twenty miles with your Barney Oldfield you need nourishment, I'm sure.
You and I can talk about his recklessness while he and Mr. Burton
have their little conference."
If Todd had an appointment for a conference there at that hour with
Burton, I am positive it was news to Mrs. Todd and me. I could feel
her weight growing heavier on my cushion springs.
"Thank you for the invitation," she replied, "but I am so badly
shaken up, I prefer to sit out here.
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