He swung off down the road, greatly at peace with all the world. He did not even rebuke his chauffeur when he caught him loafing on the grass.
Harry and the household chauffeur, Farrell, were talking together outside the garage and Harry was handing a $10 bill to Farrell, who grinned broadly as he pocketed it. Owen saw nothing in this to cause him apprehension. Harry was always generous with the employees. It was well for Owen's plan that he should go to the wedding in so pleasant a mood.
Pauline looked up from her book as Harry entered the library.
"I'm so happy," she cried. "You are a darling boy to come home so soon."
He accepted her rewarding kiss gratefully.
"Yes, I think it's all right," he said, "though there are some serious matters in hand at the office."
The butler appeared at the door. "Farrell asks if he may have a word with you, Sir."
"Farrell? Why, yes; let him come here."
The chauffeur, cap in hand, stepped into the room.
"Guess I got to take the big car to New York, Sir. I haven't got the parts to fix it, and I can't get them nowhere but in New York."