y
other sort of car in the world; in fact there was no other exactly like
it, as it had been made especially for him. You simply couldn't break
it, it was so strong; the engine would outlast two of any other kind;
and one of the advantages was that it had belts and a marvellous
arrangement called a "jockey pulley" to regulate the speed: consequently
it ran more "sweetly" (that was the word he used) than gear-driven cars,
which, according to him, jerk, and are noisy, break easily, and do all
sorts of disagreeable things.

By the time we were half through lunch I was envying him his car, and
feeling as if life wasn't worth living, because I couldn't have it to
play with. I asked if I could buy one like it, but he was very
discouraging. He had had his fitted up with lots of expensive
improvements, and it didn't pay the firm to make cars like that for the
public, so I would have to order one specially, and it might be months
before it could be delivered. I was thinking it rather inconsiderate in
him to work me up to such a pitch, just to cast me down again, when he
mentioned, in an incidental way, that he intended to sell his car,
because he had ordered a racer of forty horse-power.

I jumped at that and said, "Why not sell it to me?"

You _ought_ to have seen Aunt Mary's face! But we didn't give her time
to speak, and gasps are more effectual as punctuations than
interruptions.

Her Duke was too much moved to pause for them. He hurried to say that he
hoped I hadn't misunderstood him. The last thought in his mind had been
to "make a deal." Of course, if I really contemplated buying a car, I
must see a great many different kinds before deciding. But as it seemed
I had never had a ride on an automobile (_your_ fault, Dad--your only
one!), he would be delighted to take us a little spin in his car.

Before Aunt Mary could get in a word I had accepted; for I _did_ want to
go. And what is Aunt Mary for if not to make all the things I want to do
and otherwise couldn't, strictly proper?

Anyhow, we went, and it was heavenly. I know how a bird feels now, only
more so. You know, Dad, how quickly I make up my mind. I take that from
you, and in our spin through beautiful lanes to a delightful hotel
called--just think of it!--the "Hautboy and Fiddle," at the village of
Ockham, I'd had quite time enough to determine that I wanted the Duke's
car, if it could be got.

I said so; he objected. You've no idea how delicate he was about