"I haven't taken out the new license for this year yet. Besides, though I
believe the movies are very good for a place the size of Wallacetown, of
course, they can't be equal to what you'll be seeing in New York pretty
soon. Wait and go there."

"I won't!" said Sylvia, springing up. "I'll get Thomas to take me. You
always have some excuse when I want you to do anything. Why don't you say
right out that you don't care to go?"

Sylvia expected denials and protestations. She was disappointed. Thomas
had arrived home for his long spring vacation a few days before, and had
promptly begun to follow Sylvia about like a shadow. Austin, who never
sought her out except for his French lessons, had endeavored to
remonstrate with his younger brother. The boy flared up, with such
unusual and unreasonable anger, that Austin had decided it was wiser not
to try to spare him any longer, but to let "him make a fool of himself
and have it over with." When Sylvia made her tart speech, it suddenly
flashed through his mind that a ten-mile ride, without possibility of
interruption, was an excellent opportunity for this. He therefore grinned
so cheerfully that Sylvia was more puzzled and piqued than ever.

"I'm sure Thomas would be tickled to death to take you," he said
enthusiastically; "I'll get the car registered the first thing in the
morning, and he can spend the afternoon washing and oiling it. It really
needs a pretty thorough going-over. It'll do my heart good to see him in
his old clothes for once. He seems to have entirely overlooked the fact
that he was to spend this vacation being pretty useful on the farm, and
not sighing at your heels dressed in the height of fashion as he
understands it. He's wearing out the mat in front of the bureau, he
stands there so much, and I've hardly had a chance for a shave or a tub