“I know something better than an apple to keep him away,” said Ned.
“What’s that?”
“An onion. That’ll keep the doctor and everybody else away too.”
“Ned, we’ll have to shut you up if you don’t quit that,” said Hodge.
“That makes me think of something that happened at home just before I left for school,” continued Ned, unabashed. “My father was looking for a new chauffeur. There was one chap that applied for the place that my father rather liked, though I didn’t agree with him exactly. Finally my father asked the fellow how long he had been in his last position. ‘Five years,’ the fellow told him. ‘That’s a good record—a remarkably good record in these days,’ my father said. You know he always says ‘these days’ as if he thought the world somehow was running down and was almost out, and the worst of it is he always looks straight at me when he says it.”
“I wonder why,” suggested Hodge soberly.
“I wonder about it too,” said Ned.
“Oh, go on with your chauffeur,” said Smith. “We’ve got to hear about him, I suppose, so let’s get through with it. I’ve got something I want to say, but no one ever has a chance when Ned is around. He even talks in his sleep. You wind him up and——”
“Keep still there, you one of a million varieties. I’m doing this. Where was I when you broke in with your drivel?” asked Ned.
“You were giving us a long-drawn-out tale of your new chauffeur,” said Walter. “Probably all you wanted was to let us know that you had a car. What kind is it?”