Miraculously, she found exactly the right statement. She began it deliberately, so that none of her words would be lost on him.

``I want to tell you something Thomas DeMontez Lord. I'm well aware that you've got a pedigree as long as my leg, and that I don't amount to anything. But'' --

``But it don't matter a-tall,'' Lord supplied fondly. ``To me you'll always be the girl o' my dreams, an' the sweetest flower that grows.''

Beaming idiotically, he pooched out his lips and attempted to kiss her. She yanked away from him furiously.

``You shut up! shu-tt up-pp! I've got something to say to you, and by God you're going to listen. Do you hear me? You're going to listen!''

Lord nodded agreeably. He said he wanted very much to listen. He knew that anything a brainy little lady like her had to say would be plumb important, as well as pleasin' to the ear, and he didn't want to miss a word of it. So would she mind speaking a little louder?

``I think you stink, Tom Lord! I think you're mean and hateful and stupid, and -- louder?'' said Joyce.

``Uh-huh. So I can hear you while I'm checkin' the car. Looks like we might be in for a speck of trouble.''

He opened the door and got out. He waited at the car side for a moment, looking down at her expectantly.

``Well? Wasn't you goin' to say somethin'?'' Then, helpfully, as she merely stared at him in weary silence, ``Maybe you could write it down for me, huh? Print it in real big letters, an' I can cipher it out later.''