BENEDICTA MAKES IT GO
“Say, Miss Polly, I wish you’d let me run that machine o’ yours.”
The girl turned from her Singer with a welcoming smile.
“Why, I will, Benedicta. I’ll teach you any time. It isn’t much to
learn. Or if you want some stitching done, I’ll do it for you gladly.”
“Mercy, no!” laughed the housekeeper. “I manipulated that long before
you was born--I mean, one just like it. What I’m yearning for is to be
sittin’ up in your chariot, makin’ it go like the dickens.”
“My car?--Oh!” gasped Polly. “I thought you meant this.”
“Don’t you s’pose I c’u’d learn? Or would you be afraid I’d spile it?”
“No, indeed! you wouldn’t hurt the car--unless you should take a flying
leap down to Overlook village.”
“Guess I won’t cut up no such idiot caper as that,” laughed Benedicta.
“But, my! if I could make it go, I’d be so imperious you’d think I
belonged to the court of Spain.”
Polly chuckled. “It is easy enough to make it go,” she said, “but
somewhat of a stunt to get to where you can keep it under perfect
control. Still, you are quick of thought and have a level head; I don’t
doubt you can make a good driver. The only trouble is, you are so
fearless you might take risks; that isn’t wise. You and I will go out
this afternoon and see what we can do, unless you are too tired when
you get through with your work.”
“Tired!” sniffed Benedicta.
“Aren’t you--ever?” questioned Polly.
“Oh, I get weary occasionally; but gen’ally I keep goin’.”
“And you never feel that you cannot stand up another minute?”
“Yere, once in a while I do.”
“What then?”
“Wal,” said Benedicta slowly, “if I c’n see a place where I c’n set
down, I set. But if I can’t, I just smile and go it.”
“Smile?”
“Yere. Don’t seem as if smilin’ would help out so much, but it does.
Smilin’ is amazin’ly restful.”
“I wonder if that is how you can do so much work,” marveled Polly. “If
it is, I think I will smile.”
“Sinners and snobs! when don’t you smile? Telegraph me when ye ain’t
goin’ to--I’d like to be there. I’ll have to come by lightnin’, though.”
She left Polly laughing, and went to finish mopping the balcony floor.
“Benedicta and I are going down to Overlook,” was all Polly told of
their plans as they set off at three o’clock.
“Mayn’t Grissel and I go?” begged Clementina coaxingly.
“Not to-day, dearie,” was the brief answer. And Lilith, as well as the
children, was surprised and a bit disappointed in view of the empty
back seat. Hitherto it had been contrary to the principles of No. 45678
to run to Overlook or anywhere else with only two passengers.
On the level road leading through Overlook, Benedicta received her
preliminary instructions and took the steering-wheel in her strong
hands. She succeeded in driving the car slowly and jerkily for several
rods and presently stopped with a sudden bump. Being convinced that the
machine was safely at rest, she leaned back and drew a long, delighted
breath.
“Shudders and shades!” she ejaculated; “be I still on terra firma?
Ain’t it fun! But it’s deliriously ticklish.”
Polly laughed. “You like it, then?”
“Like it! It’s the topgallantest play I ever tried! To think I made it
go--me!”
“You did pretty well for the first time,” commended Polly.
“I should say so!” gasped Benedicta. “I never anticipated that runnin’
this chariot was so perturbative.”
“Dear, dear!” laughed Polly; “what big words you do use! You take my
breath away.”
“Teeters and tongs!” exclaimed Benedicta scornfully, “if you think
I use lengthy words, you ought to hear Mr. Aimé talk. His are the
grandest I ever heard. My Miss Flora laughs at him and says he
swallowed the dictionary when he was three and has been spouting it up
ever since. But I told him I adored his kind of talk, and from that if
he didn’t begin to learn--I mean, ‘teach’--me some of his stretched-out
words, and I put ’em down so I can look ’em over once in a while. But
I can’t hold a spark to him. I forget ’em so. Seem ’s if my memory bag
must be made of openwork, for there’s always something slippin’ out.
But, my! what an improvident mortal I be--gabbin’ this way when I ought
to be drivin’ the chariot! What do I do to start--oh, yes, I know!”
Polly nodded assent to her questioning glance, and again they whirled
along the smooth road.
Late in the afternoon Polly drove back up the mountain; but when
they were nearly within sight of home Benedicta begged so earnestly
to announce her new achievement in her own way, that finally she was
allowed to take the wheel.
“I want to sweep up to the house in one glorious curve,” she exulted.
“Won’t they be surprised!”
So intent was the driver upon the little veranda group that she nearly
forgot her part in the affair. The machine wabbled along in a most
inglorious way, tilted into a gully beside the road, and began slipping
slowly downhill.
“Put your foot on the brake!” cried Polly, grasping the emergency lever
and forcing it back.
The car meekly stopped.
“Sinners and snobs!” exclaimed Benedicta. “And I’m the sinner!--and the
snob too! Let me get out! Let me get out!”
“Never mind,” comforted Polly; “sit still and turn the car into the
road--you can do it. Put your foot--”
But Benedicta was on the ground, and running towards the kitchen door.
Polly drove the car into the garage and then followed the disquieted
housekeeper.