PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
"Your people, do they like you to do it?"
"I haven't any," she replied simply. "My father died some years ago and my—mother—just recently. There aren't any others."
"I beg your pardon! I didn't understand! It was stupid of me, but I didn't realize that your black meant mourning."
She made no reply and the car hummed across the river and sped northward. There was a chill in the air and he turned solicitously. "Are you warm enough?" he asked.
"Quite." She snuggled more closely into her cloak with a sigh of contentment. "I love it. My automobiles are usually taxicabs, you see."
"Here is one that is always at your disposal," he answered. "And listen; the exhaust; do you hear what it says?"
"Chig-a-chig-a-chig-a-chig," she laughed.
"'Peggy—Peggy—Peggy!' Can't you hear it?"
"What a polite and agreeable car! Does it always repeat the name of the lady who is riding in it?"
"It's going to after this; it's always going to say 'Peggy—Peggy—Peggy— Peggy!' Just as
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