“I’m pretty good,” said Nick, modestly. Then the outrageousness of her conduct struck him afresh. “Say, who’re you, anyway?”

“My name’s Berry — short for Bernice� . What’s yours, Pan?”

“Nick — that is — Nick.”

“Ugh, terrible! I’ll stick to Pan. What d’you do when you’re not Panning?” Then, at the bewilderment in his face: “What’s your job?”

“I work in the Ideal Garage. Say, you’re pretty nosey, ain’t you?”

“Yes, pretty� . That accounts for your nails, h’m?” She looked at her own brown paws. “‘Bout as bad as mine. I drove one hundred and fifty miles to-day.”