matter good-naturedly, but some were exceedingly bitter.
"How dare you take me for a thief?" shrilled Miss Agatha Mitts, a rich and peppery maiden lady who lived in an ancient mansion down the coast. "It's outrageous! I won't show my license!"
"You'll have to or go to jail," answered the trooper who had halted her.
"The idea! How dare you talk to me like that? You know well enough who I am!"
"Sorry, but I don't know you from Adam. And, anyway, it doesn't make any difference. Show your license or I'll take you to the lock-up."
"I am Miss Agatha Middleton Mitts, of Oldham Towers," said the maiden lady heatedly. "And I—"
"Going to show your license or not? If you haven't one—"
"Oh, yes, I've got a license. But I want you to understand—"
"Let me see it, quick. You are holding up traffic."
"Well, it's outrageous, anyway," sighed Miss Mitts. But she had to rummage through her bag for the card and show it. Then she drove on, threatening all sorts of punishment to all the troopers in sight.
Drawn by the hope of earning the rewards
