he expense for tires
must of been practically nothin', because the ones that was on it
looked like a set of washers. The body was painted yellah and the
trimmin's was in Alice blue and catsup red.

In the front seat is this guy which Alex claimed was the world's
greatest mechanic. You could see that at a glance anyhow, because he
was dressed in a pair of overalls that had lasted him ever since he
first broke into the automobile game and he carried about three quarts
of medium oil on his face and hands.

"Well," says Alex, throwin' out his chest, "what d'ye think old Runyon
Q. Sampson will say when he casts his eye over that, eh?"

"You'd only get sore if I told you," I says, "but I'll say this much,
Alex. If you can sell him that mechanical toy there on the pretense
that it's an automobile, I'm goin' up to-morrow and sell him Grant's
Tomb for a paperweight!"

"Git in," pipes Alex, "and stop knockin'!"

"I won't have to knock after we get started--that's if we do," I tells
him, forcin' myself into the rear, "the motor will look after that!"

Alex nudges the mechanic.

"This here's my cousin," he tells him. "He ain't a bad feller in spite
of that."

He turns around to me, "Joe," he says, "I want you to meet Mister Eddie
Worth, the best man on gas engines that ever burnt his hands on an
exhaust pipe!"

"Greetin's, Eddie!" I says, shakin' hands with him and gettin' a half
pound of grease for nothin'.

"Gimme a cigarette!" answers Eddie. "I been waitin' here an hour for
youse guys. The motor is prob'ly all cold now and the starter may
gimme an argument."

He gets out and monkeys around the front of the car.

"Ain't it nice and roomy back there?" Alex asks me.

I moved my knees away from my chin so's I could talk.

"Great!" I says. "Only the Gaflooey people is liable to get in trouble
on account of them coppin' the design from somebody else."

"What d'ye mean?" he asks me, lookin' puzzled.

"Well," I tells him, "you gotta admit that the seatin' arrangements
back here is a dead steal from a can of sardines!"

"Did you ever see anything you couldn't find fault with?" he sneers.

"Yeh," I says. "I once got three nickels in change for a dime."

At this critical moment, the mechanic gets down on his hands and knees
in the street and begins to worry the car like a dog with a bone. Then
all of a sudden he crawls underneath it and disappears from the public
eye. A lot of shippin' clerks, bookkeepers,