buggy. She said she was crying because Aunt Martha wasn't there to
see us driving away and have the laugh of her life.

We started off and we were rushing along the road, passing a
fence and overtaking a telegraph pole every once in a while, when
suddenly we heard behind us a very insistent choof-choof-choof-choof!

"It's one of those Careless Wagons," I whispered to Peaches, and
then we both looked at Parsifal to see if there was a mental
struggle going on in his forehead, but he was rushing onward with
his head down, watching his feet to make sure they didn't step on
each other.

Choof-choof-choof! came the Torpedo Destroyer behind us, and I
wrapped the reins around my wrist, in case Parsifal should get
uneasy and want to print horseshoes all over that automobile.

The next minute the machine passed us, going at the rate of 14
constables an hour, and as it did so Parsifal stopped still and
seemed to be biting his lips with suppressed emotion.

I coaxed him to proceed in English, in Spanish and Italian, and
then in a pale blue language of my own, but he just stood there and
bit his lips.

I believe if he had possessed fingernails he would have bitten them
too.

I gave the reins to my wife with instructions how to act if the
horse started, and I jumped out to argue with him.