“Fixing your automobile?” he asked, unwilling to give it up without another effort.
“What do you suppose I’m doing?”
“It’s wonderful how fast one of these little one-seated cars can go,” mused Harvey. “Cheap, too; ain’t they?”
Butler faced him again, malice in his glance.
“It’s not in it with that big green car your wife uses,” he said, distinctly.
“Big green––” began Harvey, blankly. Then he understood. He swallowed hard, straightened Phoebe’s hat with infinite care and gentleness, and looking over Butler’s head, 102 managed to say, quite calmly:—“It used to be blue. We’ve had it painted. Come along, Phoebe, Mr. Butler’s busy. We mustn’t bother him. So long, Butler.”
“So long,” said Mr. Butler, suddenly intent upon finding something in the tool-box.
The pair moved on. Out of the corner of his eye Butler watched them turn the corner below.
“Poor little guy!” he said to the monkey wrench.
The big green car! All the way home that juggernaut green car ran through, over, and around him. He could see nothing else, think of nothing else. A big green car!