"For the Lord's sake!" George gasped.
"Your mother's a dear," said Lucy. "And she does wear the most
bewitching things! She looked like a Russian princess, though I doubt
if they're that handsome."
George said nothing; he drove on till they had crossed Amberson
Addition and reached the stone pillars at the head of National Avenue.
There he turned.
"Let's go back and take another look at that old sewing-machine," he
said. "It certainly is the weirdest, craziest--"
He left the sentence unfinished, and presently they were again in
sight of the old sewing-machine. George shouted mockingly.
Alas! three figures stood in the road, and a pair of legs, with the
toes turned up, indicated that a fourth figure lay upon its back in
the snow, beneath a horseless carriage that had decided to need a
horse.
George became vociferous with laughter, and coming up at his trotter's
best gait, snow spraying from runners and every hoof, swerved to the
side of the road and shot by, shouting, "Git a hoss! Git a hoss! Git a
hoss!"
Three hundred yards away he turned and came back, racing; leaning out
as he passed, to wave jeeringly at the group about the disabled
machine: "Git a hoss! Git a hoss! Git a--"
The trotter had broken into a gallop, and Lucy cried a warning: "Be
careful!" she said.
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