“More so than usual for the reason that we are ascending an incline; but you must remember that Antaeus was not built for speed,” returned I, defending my friend.
“Evidently not. He belongs to the plodders—the slow and sure sort. He would be entered for a race in the tortoise class probably. Fancy an absconding cashier trying to escape from justice in a steam-roller! It would be funny, wouldn't it?”
I agreed with her that it would be very funny. “Or imagine an eloping couple fleeing before an irate father on such a conveyance!” I suggested, with a consciousness of blushing in the dark for the audacity of the conceit.
“Now, that is good!” she exclaimed, seizing on my idea with an eagerness that showed how far her thoughts were from taking the direction in which mine had dared to stray. “What a situation for a modern realistic, sensational drama!”
“It might be worked up into something rather impressive, I should think. In these days of bringing steamboats, pile-drivers, fire-engines, real water, and railway trains in upon the stage I don't know why a steam-roller might not be given a chance.”
“Why not?” she cried, waxing enthusiastic. “Picture the scene. Enter lovers on 'steam-roller, followed by incensed father in—in——”
“In an electric-car,” I supplied experimentally.
“Pshaw! don't be foolish!” she exclaimed thanklessly. “Followed by father in a light gig, drawn by a spirited horse. Overtakes lovers—demands his daughter—young man respectfully declines to give her up. Old gentleman prepares to come and take her. Is about to descend from gig when steamroller whistles, spirited horse begins to prance, he is obliged to keep tight hold of reins——”
“Very good!” I put in approvingly. “Stern parent threatens direst vengeance, horse cavorts alarmingly, parent rages unavailingly, resolute lover pushes throttle wide open with one hand and retains firm grip upon the helm with the other.”
“While the devoted loveress, with her own dainty hands, shovels in coal and encourages him to stand firm——”