Tish | Page 9

over any more. He sauntered past, evening after
evening, very much white-flanneled and carrying a tennis racket. And
once or twice he took out his old racing-car, and later shot by the house
with a flutter of veils and a motor coat beside him.
Aggie was exceedingly sorry for him, and even went the length of
having the cook bake a chocolate cake and put it on the window sill to
cool. It had, however, no perceptible effect, except to draw from Mr.
Ellis, who had been round at the garage looking at Jasper's old racer, a
remark that he was exceedingly fond of cake, and if he were urged--
That was, I believe, a week before the race. The big city papers had
taken it up, according to Mr. Ellis, and entries were pouring in.

"That's the trouble on a small track," he said--"we can't crowd 'em. A
dozen cars will be about the limit. Even with using the cattle pens for
repair pits we can't look after more than a dozen. Did I tell you Heckert
had entered his Bonor?"
"No!" we exclaimed. As far as Aggie and I were concerned, the Bonor
might have been a new sort of dog.
"Yes, and Johnson his Sampler. It's going to be some race--eh, what!"
Jasper sauntered over that evening, possibly a late result of the cake,
after all. He greeted us affably, as if his defection of the past week had
been merely incidental, and sat down on the steps.
"I've been thinking, Ellis," he said, "that I'd like to enter my car."
"What!" said Ellis. "Not that--"
"My racer. I'm not much for speed, but there's a sort of feeling in the
town that the locality ought to be represented. As I'm the only owner of
a speed car--"
"Speed car!" said Ellis, and chuckled. "My dear boy, we've got Heckert
with his ninety-horse-power Bonor!"
"Never heard of him." Jasper lighted a cigarette. "Anyhow, what's that
to me? I don't like to race. I've got less speed mania than any owner of
a race car you ever met. But the honor of the town seems to demand a
sacrifice, and I'm it."
"You can try out for it anyhow," said Ellis. "I don't think you'll make it;
but, if you qualify, all right. But don't let any other town people, from a
sense of mistaken local pride, enter a street roller or a traction engine."
Jasper colored, but kept his temper.
Aggie, however, spoke up indignantly. "Mr. McCutcheon's car was a
very fine racer when it was built."

"De mortuis nil nisi bonum," remarked Mr. Ellis, and getting up said
good-night.
Jasper sat on the steps and watched him disappear. Then he turned to
Tish.
"Miss Letitia," he said, "do you think you are wise to drive that racer of
his the way you have been doing?"
Aggie gave a little gasp and promptly sneezed, as she does when she is
excited.
"I?" said Tish.
"You!" he smiled. "Not that I don't admire your courage. I do. But the
other day, now, when you lost a tire and went into the ditch--"
"Tish!" from Aggie.
"--you were fortunate. But when a racer turns over the results are not
pleasant."
"As a matter of fact," said Tish coldly, "it was a wheat-field, not a
ditch."
Jasper got up and threw away his cigarette. "Well, our departing friend
is not the only one who can quote Latin," he said. "Verbum sap., Miss
Tish. Good-night, everybody. Good-night, Bettina."
Bettina's good-night was very cool. As I went up to bed that night, I
thought Jasper's chances poor indeed. As for Tish, I endeavored to
speak a few word of remonstrance to her, but she opened her Bible and
began to read the lesson for the day and I was obliged to beat a retreat.
It was that night that Aggie and I, having decided the situation was
beyond us, wrote a letter to Charlie Sands asking him to come up. Just
as I was sealing it Bettina knocked and came in. She closed the door
behind her and stood looking at us both.

"Where is Miss Tish?" she asked.
"Reading her Bible," I said tartly. "When Tish is up to some mischief,
she generally reads an extra chapter or two as atonement."
"Is she--is she always like this?"
"The trouble is," explained Aggie gently, "Miss Letitia is an enthusiast.
Whatever she does, she does with all her heart."
"I feel so responsible," said Bettina. "I try to look after her, but what
can I do?"
"There is only one thing to do," I assured her--"let her alone. If she
wants to fly, let her fly; if she wants to race, let her race--and trust in
Providence."
"I'm afraid Providence has its hands full!" said Bettina,