"We don't care, if the price is right. Where is it?"
The manager led the boys to the back of the showrooms, where they found a luxurious-looking auto. It looked, so Joe afterward said, "like a million dollars." With a fresh coat of paint it would have seemed like a model straight from the factory.
"What do you think of it?" Frank asked his brother.
"A peach."
"Boys, I hate to see you buy this car," the manager protested. "Take the money and put it into a good, standard car that you can depend on. You'll have more trouble running this automobile than the looks are worth. If you weren't friends of mine I wouldn't waste my time telling you this, for I'm anxious to get this mass of junk off my hands. But your father would never forgive me if he thought I'd stung you boys with a cement mixer like this one."
"It's the looks that count with us," said Frank. "How much do you want for it?"
"I'll sell it to you for four hundred dollars."
"Four hundred!" exclaimed Joe. "Why, that looks like a three-thousand-dollar car!"
"It looks like one, but it isn't," said the Manager. "You'll be lucky to drive a thousand miles in it before the engine gives out."
"We won't drive any thousand miles in it," Joe remarked mysteriously.