The Waltons 2 - Trouble on the Mountain by Robert Weverka Page A

since we’ve had a nice long drive.”
    “Why, yes we could! What a good idea! And while we’re there we can buy material to make new dresses for the dance!”
    “And hats, Mamie! It’s been ages since we’ve treated ourselves to new hats!”
    “And lingerie! I just must have a new pair of . . .” Miss Mamie gasped and caught herself, blushing deeply. Then the two of them giggled and hurried off. “You just do those drains as fast as you can, Mr. Walton.”
    Before Zeb was finished with the pipes, the two ladies were dressed and waiting patiently for him by the side of the house. Then they all climbed into the old Franklin and set off, with Miss Mamie at the wheel.
    Zeb had often seen Miss Mamie and Miss Emily driving over the roads of Walton’s Mountain. On those occasions, with the two ladies smiling happily in the front seat, anyone who recognized the approaching car was quick to give them a broad and unemcumbered path. All the evidence seemed to indicate that Miss Mamie had complete faith in the automobile’s ability to find its own way to its destination, and she supplied only a minimum of help. When the roads were smooth the car angled slowly to the side, where a gutter or a high shoulder set the wheels back on course, or across to the other shoulder for the next correction. When the roads were muddy or rutted, the car simply followed the natural path.
    Inside the car, Zeb found the experience even more harrowing. While she drove, Miss Mamie adjusted her hat and straightened her skirts. She exclaimed at the weather and the scenery, talked excitedly about the coming dance, and repeatedly expressed the hope that John-Boy was taking good care of their papa’s typewriting machine. And with every subject her foot responded by lifting or thrusting itself harder against the accelerator.
    “You are going to the dance, aren’t you, Zebulon? It’s just been ever so long since we’ve had a dance in Walton’s Mountain.”
    Zeb answered such questions quickly, so Miss Mamie’s eyes could return to the road. “I reckon we’ll be there.”
    “And did you see who’s going to do the calling?”
    “Yes.”
    “Fred Oglethorpe Hansen! I declare, I think Mr. Hansen’s just one of the most handsome men in all Jefferson County! Don’t you think so, Sister?”
    “And such a gentleman,” Miss Emily sighed. “I do recall that some years ago Mr. Hansen was a-courting your Esther, wasn’t he, Zebulon?”
    “Yes.”
    “Now, aren’t you just the lucky one to have won her hand!”
    “When we go to the dance, we must take Mr. Hansen a jar of Recipe, Sister. He did love it so. And I do believe it improved his calling.”
    Traffic in Charlottesville was not heavy. But from the few cars that were on the streets there came a great deal of honking and tire-screeching, along with angry words from the drivers. Miss Mamie saw only the display windows of stores and waved to an occasional friend as she delivered Zeb to the Jefferson County Electric Company.
    Zeb paid the bill, explaining to the young lady that the delinquency was merely an oversight due to the press of other complicated business affairs, and then the sisters began their shopping spree.
    “Well, I do declare, Zebulon,” Miss Mamie said, now that the car was loaded, “if we’d bought one tiny wisp of a package more, we’d all just be crowded right out to the running boards.”
    Miss Emily was wedged tightly between them, and the car was started. “Hasn’t this just been the most exciting day!”
    “Sure has,” Zeb agreed, “and a long day. It’s always nice to be going home.”
    Without a backward glance Miss Mamie pushed the accelerator to the floor and swung out into the street.
    “Miss Mamie,” Zeb said, “I think you ought to be slowing down some if you’re going to turn that corner.”
    “Oh, I just love the wind rushing past,” she exclaimed.
    Zeb braced himself, but there was no need. Miss Mamie flew right past the road toward Walton’s