Phineas beamed.
“Purty slick, I think myself,” he acknowledged.
“An’ green is so much nicer than red,” cooed Diantha.
Phineas quite glowed with joy--Colonel Smith’s car was red. “Oh, green’s the thing,” he retorted airily; “an’ see!” he added; and forthwith he burst into a paean of praise, in which tires, horns, lamps, pumps, baskets, brakes, and mud-guards were the dominant notes. It almost seemed, indeed, that he had bought the gorgeous thing before him to look at and talk about rather than to use, so loath was he to stop talking and set the wheels to moving. Not until Diantha had twice reminded him that she was longing to ride in it did he help her into the car and make ready to start.
It was not an entire success--that start. There were several false moves on Phineas’s part, and Diantha could not repress a slight scream and a nervous jump at sundry unexpected puffs and snorts and snaps from the throbbing thing beneath her. She gave a louder scream when Phineas, in his nervousness, sounded the siren, and a wail like a cry from the spirit world shrieked in her ears.
“Phineas, what was that?” she shivered, when the voice had moaned into silence.
Phineas’s lips were dry, and his hands and knees were shaking; but his pride marched boldly to the front.
“Why, that’s the siren whistle, ’course,” he chattered. “Ain’t it great? I thought you’d like it!” And to hear him one would suppose that to sound the siren was always a necessary preliminary to starting the wheels.
They were off at last. There was a slight indecision, to be sure, whether they would go backward or forward, and there was some hesitation as to whether Diantha’s geranium bed or the driveway would make the best thoroughfare. But these little matters having been settled to the apparent satisfaction of all concerned, the automobile rolled down the driveway and out on to the main highway.
“Oh, ain’t this grand!” murmured Diantha, drawing a long but somewhat tremulous breath.