“Ephraim is, at least,” laughed Jim.
“Yas’r, yas’r; I suah is,” said Ephraim with a deep chuckle. “Dis yere joy ridin’ business am gittin’ intuh mah blood. Nebber ain’t gone so fast in mah whole life as w’en Mistah Gerald done let dat blame contraption out. Lordy, but we jes’ flew!”
“Where did Jim come in?” Dorothy wanted to know.
“Oh, Mistah Gerald teached him how tuh run de machine, en den he teached me. I tell yo’ w’at, Miss Betty, I’s gwine tuh be yo’ shofer all right, en I’s gwine tuh be a mighty good one, too.”
“He can hardly wait for Gerald to come back to-morrow,” said Jim.
“Then Gerald is coming back, is he?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes; we can’t learn to run his car in one lesson, you know. I reckon I haven’t much call to talk about Ephy’s enthusiasm, for the fever’s in my blood, too.”
“That’s what they call ‘automobilitis,’” said Aunt Betty.
“Well, whatever hit am, I’s got it,” said Ephraim, with a grave shake of his head. Then he emitted another chuckle and walked away.
The next few days passed quickly.