Life — January 9, 1913 — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“LEAR: By Messenger HERE was a small motor car in front of the girl’s house. As he came up he paused be- fore he entered, and turned toward it curi- ously, examining it swiftly with the prac- tised cye of an expert. Then he walked up the steps and went in. She was glad to see him; there was no doubt about that. She showed it in her eyes, in the inflections of her voice, in her manner. And he was equally glad to see her. By and by he said, half-carelessly : “Your father been getting a motor car?” “No sir, that’s mine.” “Yours?” “Yes. Now, you needn't make game of me—just be- cause you have a big touring car that can go four times as fast.” “T'm not making fun of you, my dear. It’s fine—just the thing. Who runs it for you?” “No one. I-run it myself. Come, I want to take you out!” “ Oh—yes—of course,” he stammered. “That is—No, I'd rather not.” “What do you mean? Wouldn't you go to ride with me?” “Tf you'll let me run it.” “Never!” “Why not?” “ Because it's mine, and I know how. And you must come with me. Please do.” “T don’t think a girl ought to run one of those things,” he said. “No matter how small it is, it isn’t safe. And I don’t approve of your doing it,” he added. “ Really now, dear, it’s a risk. You may think it isn’t, and you may think you know all about it, but you don’t. It takes a long time, even for a man.” She was plainly losing her temper. “Of course, you don’t mean that,” she said. “But I do, really. I'm telling you for your own good.” There was a pause. She was gathering herself to- gether. “Will you come out with me?” she said, at last. “T'd rather not.” “You refuse.” He got up. He was no saint himself. “Yes,” he replied. “I refuse. You may think it’s be- cause I don’t want to be seen in a machine which a girl is running. Well, that’s partly it. But I won't stand for your doing it on general principles. If you want to make a fool of yourself, I can’t stop you. But I certainly will not——"” Her eyes were blazing. All that afternoon she had waited for him, in order to take him out. For days she had been practising with her little machine and now, to have him throw cold water on the idea of a woman's driving it, was too much. “You may go,” she cried. “I never want to see you again. I'll never speak to you as long as I live.” “You mean that.” “Ido. Go!” His handsome face turned red with anger, but he con- trolled himself and left the room, and the house, without a word. Once outside, he strode off rapidly, not knowing where he went. After a while he cooled down a little. Then he dis- covered himself in the vicinity of his own house. Instinctively he went out to the rear, to the garage, where his own machine stood. Mechanically he exam- ined the gasoline valve and the oil tubes. Then he cranked her up and shot off, a prey to his own feelings. He sped on and on through the city streets until the houses grew scarce on cither side of him. Green patches slipped by. Trees made their appearance. On and on he went. Finally his emotions began to slow down, Where was he? He looked up the road, remembered it as being one he had traveled before, and started back by another route. Suddenly, his eye, skillful and always alert, even when he seemed most unconscious, took in a small object on the side of the road ahead of him, He looked again. Yes, it was she, broken down. He stopped. “Any help?” he called. No answer. He got out and came up to her. She was bending over the machine. She looked up as he approached—and down again. “ Any help—dear?” No answer. “Come. It’s all right. Let me help you.” Her eyes blazed once more. Wounded pride held her adamant. She pointed silently to his machine, and beck- oned him away. He stopped, looked at her doubtfully, and then silently went back and sat in his own front seat. Perhaps, after all, she would start up her machine. In the meantime, he would wait. At this moment a small, ubiquitous boy appeared on the scene. Where he came from no one knew. But there he was, his hands in his pockets, silent, interested. The man in the machine beckoned to him. “Come here, sonny. Do you want to make a dollar?” “Yes, sir.” The man opened his notebook, and wrote as follows: “As a member of the Automobile Club of this State, I am pledged to help another. I would have to do this for any one. Take a wrench, unscrew your spark plug, lay it on top of your engine, turn your crank and see if you get a spark. Be sure and put on your switch first.” “Here boy,” he said, “take this over to that young lady.” The boy took it over and handed it to her. comicbooks.com