six mile’ west—or Clark’s store might have some, at Everdale. That ’s seven mile’ off, but I ain’t sure they keep it. The only place they ’re sure to have it is over to Fennport, which is ’leven mile’ from here by the turnpike.”
The boy considered all this seriously. “Can I borrow a horse from you—and a buggy?’ he asked.
“Mart’n Luther ’s gone to town with the only team we own. We ain’t had a buggy fer twenty-two years.”
He sighed, and sat down on the steps, looking disconsolately toward the big touring car that was now so helpless. Aunt ’Phroney resumed her task of paring the apples, but now and then she also would glance admiringly at the automobile.
“Come far?” she presently inquired.
“From Durham.”
“To-day? Why, Durham ’s thirty mile’ from here.”
“I know; that ’s only an hour’s run, with good roads.”
“Mercy me!”
“But the roads are not good in this neighborhood. I wanted to run over to Fennport to see the fair. I thought there might be some fun there, and I ’d jog over this morning and run back home to-night. That would n’t have been any trick at all, if I had n’t forgotten the gasolene.”
“Live in Durham?” she asked.
“Ves; Father has the bank there.”
“Pretty big town, I ’ve heard.”
“Why, it ’s only a village. And a stupid, tiresome village at that. Lonely, too. That ’s why Father got this touring car; he said it would help to amuse me. May I have an apple?”
Aunt ’Phroney smiled indulgently, and handed him an apple from the pan. The idea of one who lived in the thriving, busy town of Durham becoming lonely filled her with amusement. For her part, she had n't left the old farm-house, except to go to church, for nearly two years, and days at a time she never saw a human being other than her silent, morose husband. Yet she was not lonely—not really lonely—only at times did her isolation weigh upon her spirits.
“Got a mother, child?” she softly inquired.
He nodded, biting the apple.
“Mother ’s an invalid. She does n’t leave her own rooms, and keeps two trained nurses and a special cook, and she studies social science—and such things.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know; it ’s only a name to Father and me. But Father has the bank to interest him, and as I ’m not ready for the bank yet, he lets me run the automobile.”
Aunt ’Phroney gave him a pitying look.
“Guess I un’erstan’ your hist’ry now,” she said gently. “You need n’t say no more “bout it. Hey another apple?”
“I will, thank you. They ’re fine. Grow ’em here?”
“Yes. Mart’n Luther ’s entered a peck at the county fair, an’ hopes to git the premium. It ’s two dollars, in cash. He’s put up our Plymouth Rock rooster an’ some pertaters fer prizes, too, an’ seein’ he ’s entered ’em, it don’t cost him anything to get into the fair grounds—only the ten cents fer toll-gate.”
“Why did n’t you go with him?” asked the boy.
Aunt ’Phroney flushed a little. “That ’s some more hist’ry—the kind that ’s better not studied,” she remarked quietly. “Mart’n Luther took it from his pa, I guess. His pa once cried like a baby when he lost four cents through a hole in his pocket. After that, evry penny was kep’ strapped up in his leather pocket-book, which were never unstrapped without a groan. Yes, Mart’n Luther ’s a’ honest man, an’ God-fearin’; but I guess he takes after his pa.”
The boy finished his apple.
“Come out and see our touring car,” he said. “I ’d like to show it to you, although I can’t take you to ride in it.”
“Thank you,” she eagerly replied. “I ’ll come in a minute. Let me git this apple-sass started cookin’ first.”
She went into the kitchen with the apples, but soon came back, and with a brisk air followed the boy across the patch of rank grass to the road.
“I can’t walk six miles or more, you know,” he remarked, “and lug a can of gasolene back with me; so I ‘ll have to wait until your husband comes back to-night with the team. You don’t mind my staying with you, do you?”
“Of course not,” she answered. “I like boys —boys like you, that is. We—we never had no children of our own.”
He showed her all the parts of the automobile, and explained how they worked and what they were for, all in a simple way that enabled her readily to understand. She was in a flutter of excitement at her close proximity to the wonderful invention, and the luxury of the seats and interior fittings filled her with awe. At first, he could not induce Aunt ’Phroney to enter the car and sit down upon the soft cushions, but, after much urging, she finally yielded, and was frankly delighted at the experience.
“It must ’a’ cost a lot o’ money,” she observed.106
