Summary

Portrait of George V. Hobart George V. Hobart You Should Worry Says John Henry

When Peaches and I get tired of the Big Town—tired of its noises and hullabaloo; tired of being tagged by taxis as we cross a street; tired of watching grocers and butchers hoisting higher the highest cost of living—that's our cue to grab a choo-choo and breeze out to Uncle Peter Grant's farm and bungalow in the wilds of Westchester, which he calls Troolyrooral.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George V. Hobart George V. Hobart You Should Worry Says John Henry

Then the machine began to climb a telegraph pole, and as it ran down the other side Aunt Miranda wanted to know for the tenth time if it would explode.
"How did John tell you to handle it?" she shrieked, as the Rowdy Cart bit its way through a stone fence and began to dance a two-step over a strange man's lawn.
"The only way to handle this infernal machine is to soak it in water," yelled Uncle Gilbert as they hit the main road again.43
"I don't see what family pride has to do with it; there isn't a soul looking," moaned Aunt Miranda.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George V. Hobart George V. Hobart You Should Worry Says John Henry

Uncle Gilbert continued to eye the car for another minute, then he turned to me and said, "Want to try it, John?"
"Nix, Uncle Gilbert," I protested; "what would the townspeople say? You with a new motor car, afraid to run it yourself, had to send to New York for your nephew—nix! Where's your family pride?"
"My family pride is all right," answered Uncle Gilbert; "but there's a lot of contraptions in that machine I don't seem to recognize."
"Oh, that's all right; you're a handy little guy with machinery," I reminded him.
Source: Gutenberg

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