"Most fun I've had in ten years," he said, mopping his brow. "I think if the parishioners knew how much fun it is, more of them would die, and remember me in their wills."
"You mean—"
"Never mind what I mean. I am not sure I know myself. Well, as I told you, Davison says it is for my own personal use and pleasure, mine and my family's—not for the church under any consideration—either the cow or the car. Probably, he says, in his outspoken way, I shall be fool enough to take the cow, and in that case the car is to go to his great-grand-nephew up in New London. And great-grand-nephew greatly prefers the car, so he took me out to show me the cow, and explain what a bargain she is, and how easy to milk, and how creamy the milk is, and he figured up how many pounds of milk and gallons of— No, I mean it the other way, gallons of milk and pounds of butter I will get per year, at so much per gallon and per pound, and that will mean a clear profit of—"
"Father, you poor dear, shall I call a doctor?"
"So, after seeing the cow, and she is a beauty—I said, 'How about the car? Let's give her the once-over, too, while we are at it.' He says it isn't much of a car, in terrible condition, would take a hundred dollars to put it in shape, and fairly eats gasoline—gas going up, too. And he says it is a bad car to handle, quite dangerous, in fact, has a habit of running into telephone poles and trains and things. But we backed her out of the garage, and great-grand-nephew and Folsom and I had a ride. Which do you want?"
"Mercy, father, how abrupt you are. I thought it was settled long ago. We want the car, of course."
"All right, my dear, all right, but I have a hunch that great-grand-nephew will not be particularly pleased. Lucky he lives in New London instead of here—Congregationalist, too, that's good. And when I consider that I got Davison out of jail twice for speeding the thing, I think after all it is my just deserts. All right, call Folsom up and tell him we take the car."
Doris ecstatically did, and the lawyer said he would deliver the car at their door in person the next morning at nine o'clock.
"Can't you make it eight?" pleaded Doris. "I think the children ought to be here, and they are in school, you know."