"This certainly has been the worst day yet. That's why I thought you
might like to get out into the country."

"Don't care where I go," said Max. "Excuse me if I shut my eyes and keep
quiet. I haven't energy enough to say any more for a mile."

"All right. Shut your eyes, and I'll tell you when to open them."

Max turned sidewise in his seat, rested his elbow on the back, propped
his head upon his hand, closed his eyes, and appeared to slumber. Jarvis
drove on silently, noting with pleasure the subdued murmur of talk going
on behind him, where Sally, after a long and lonely day, was enjoying the
chance to visit with her friend. The girl lay back against the luxurious
padding of the Burnside carriage, resting and drinking in the refreshing
sense of coolness caused more by the motion than by a greatly lowered
temperature, for the evening was very warm. Presently, however, as they
left the city and turned out upon a country road, the lessening heat and
freer stirring of the air became distinctly perceptible.

A passing stream of automobiles, setting out for some scene of festivity
at a popular resort several miles away, roused Max from his lethargy with
their tooting horns and brilliant lights. "Lucky ducks!" he muttered, in
surly tones. "They can always stir up a breeze."

"They're not the only ones who can stir up breezes," rejoined Jarvis.
"I'm about to stir up one myself."

"I should think you'd own a runabout," remarked Max.