“What!” I said. “Going to sell sweets? But your father will eat the stock.”
“That’s just it,” said Minnie. “What’s more, he’ll be encouraged to eat it. What’s more, when he’s finished he’ll be made to go on again. He’ll get that and nothing else for a week, and if he can look sugar in the face at the end of it I’m a Dutchman. Him a grown man too! I could find another girl to do you, miss, I think, though I won’t say that she’d be quite my class. Still, I would have her here the week before I left, and if anybody can knock a thing into a girl’s head I think I can.”
I explained to Minnie that she need not trouble, and that I should move from the neighbourhood.
Some time later I made a point of visiting Miss Saxe’s emporium. I was served by her father, who looked distinctly chastened and rather thinner. He told me that his daughter was a wonderful girl, and I believed him. He waved one hand over the assorted boxes on the counter. “I never touch anything of this kind now,” he said. “One loses one’s taste for it as one gets older.” So Mr. Saxe was happily reclaimed.
The Pegasus people began now to manufacture a light cheap 6½ h.-p. runabout car. It was entered for a reliability trial, and Mr. James told me that I was to drive it. I was nearly off my head with joy over that. Subsequently I nearly broke my heart over it. I’ll tell the story as briefly as possible. I had already tried the car thoroughly myself and did not know of anything in the same class to touch it. I was not the least nervous; indeed, now I come to think of it, I believe I have never been nervous. The first day it did splendidly, and we were more than a minute ahead of everything up Onslow Hill. The second day the car broke down, and Mr. James and myself were unable to find what was wrong and put it right again within the time limit. Nothing but the turn of a screw was required, and a few minutes later we were ready to start, but our chance was gone as far as that trial was concerned. Mr. James got a couple of pressmen whom he knew to get up on the car, and we had a little private demonstration. One of the pressmen afterwards wrote on the question as to whether reliability trials really proved reliability. I did not talk much during our run; I was too much upset by the failure of the car. As soon as I could I got back to the muggy little hotel.
Mr. James came in there and asked for me, and I went down to see him.
“What have you been crying for?” he said sharply.
“Nothing,” I said, which is what an ass of a woman would say.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he went on. “It was my fault for sleeping in a bedroom. The next time I go in for one of these things I’ll sleep on my car. That needle valve never went wrong by itself. Prove it? Of course I can’t prove it. But I know it, though I am going to say nothing about it.”
So far we had been standing up. He then sat down and immediately and in rather a dictatorial way asked me if I would marry him.