The machine was the gift of her father. It was a
commodious, maroon-colored car, with a roomy tonneau and fore-doors and
torpedo body of the latest type.
Beside it the Blue Bird looked somewhat small and insignificant. But Roy
and Peggy felt no embarrassment. On the contrary, they were quite certain
the Blue Bird was the better car.
"Where are you off to?" asked Fanning in friendly tones, while Regina
bowed and smiled very sweetly to Peggy.
"Going to take a spin in the direction of the Bancroft's," said Roy,
starting his car.
"What fun," cried Regina Mortlake, "so are we. Let's race."
"I don't believe in racing," rejoined Peggy.
"No, of course it is dangerous," said Fanning, "I guess Roy is a bit timid
with that old car, too. Besides it's all in the way you handle a machine;"
Roy flushed angrily.
"I guess this 'old car,' as you call it, could give yours a tussle if it
comes down to it," he said sharply.
Peggy tugged his sleeve. She saw where this would lead too. She saw, too,
that Fanning was anxious to provoke Roy into a race. Presumably he was
anxious to humiliate the boy in Regina Mortlake's eyes.
"Well, do you want to race then?" asked Regina, provokingly, her fine eyes
flashing, "there's a bit of road beyond here that's quite broad and one
hardly ever meets anything.
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