Thursday morning came. So did Joseph with the car.
If ever a man looked pleased with himself, it was Mr. Henry Marshall Prescott when he gave his motor coat a final pull with both hands, and settled himself on the seat behind Joseph, with Billy between him and his Uncle John.
They certainly did look well.
The young doctor knew all about automobile “togs,” as he called them. So, of course, he was strictly up to date.
There were some other up-to-date “togs” in that car. In point of fact, there were a good many. They had been sent up to the office the day before. Some of them were Billy’s. Being only a boy, he hadn’t thought of having any special clothes, but he had on everything that Mr. Prescott had been able to find “for a boy of thirteen.”
Some of them were Uncle John’s. Even Dr. Crandon’s weren’t any nearer up to calendar time than were those which Mr. Prescott had provided for John Bradford.
When he had helped John Bradford on with the coat, Mr. Prescott had looked straight at Billy with a say-anything-if-you-dare expression.
He knew, just as well as Billy did, that, though he had looked there, those things never came out of the closet at the mill.
When Uncle John put on goggles, Billy’s smile changed into a broad grin.
That didn’t disturb John Bradford. When he did a thing, he liked to do it all.