“I should hope not, indeed,” I murmured, when he paused for an encouraging word.
“Shall we call it a bargain, then, that I aid you to an introduction to the young lady, your neighbor, and in return you so contrive as to bring about a meeting between Electra and me?”
“A bargain it is, with all my heart,” I assented, grasping and shaking the handle of his throttle-lever, “and the sooner the better for the carrying out of it.”
“Very good; call on me to-morrow, and I will see what can be done for you.”
“Shall—shall I come in business hours?” I asked, hesitatingly, thinking he might possibly prefer to attend to the matter between twelve and one.
“Of course,” he answered, “in business hours, certainly. I mean business, and I hope you do.”
I hastened to set his mind at rest on that point, and, after promising to come on the following afternoon, I shook his handle again, which had the effect of starting him off, and so our interview ended.
When I awoke in the morning, my dream seemed so vividly real that I resolved to risk making myself ridiculous in my own eyes and to keep my appointment with Antaeus. Accordingly, after lunch, I strolled out toward the section of highway where he was at work. Soon I caught sight of a light-complexioned wagon standing on the opposite side of the street. Attached to it were two plump, blonde ponies, garbed in russet harness, and, on the front seat, reins in hand, talking with an acquaintance upon the sidewalk, sat my young lady.
The natty vehicle had one other occupant, a sooty-faced pug, sitting up very straight on the cushion beside his mistress, with quite the air of a personage of distinction. In front of the ponies' noses was a horse of another breed, a four-legged structure of wood, upholding a sign-board, upon which was painted in glaring letters the word, “Danger,” and in smaller ones, “No Passing; Steam Roller Running.”
Upon this scene presently entered an important actor—I might call him the heavy villian—Antaeus, grumbling, groaning, puffing and perspiring in his efforts to consolidate the various ingredients for a durable roadbed that had been laid down in his path. As he drew nearer he gave utterance to a significant “ahem!”—as I thought—by way of calling my attention to what was about to happen. Apparently he was going to keep his part of our agreement. A suspicion of what might be his idea began to dawn upon me. He purposed frightening the ponies, an incipient runaway would ensue, and I should be enabled to play the part of heroic rescuer. There were no very original features in the scheme, but it struck me as being quite practicable nevertheless; consequently I was somewhat surprised and grieved when nothing of the nature of what I had anticipated took place.