Down the line with John Henry

by George V. Hobart

So I framed up Clarence's finish with much attention to detail.

I looked over Clara Jane's dates ahead and found that Clarence had rented the house for a Wednesday matinee, so I hired one of those horseless carriage things and pulled up in front of the windows just about the time I thought His Feathers would be playing the overture.

I knew that Clara Jane would cancel the contract with the mutt that mixed in just as soon as she saw the automobile snap.

I figured that the picture entitled "The True Lover's Departure in the Dream Wagon" would put a crimp in Clarence about the size of a barn door.

It was my third or fourth time behind the lever of the busy barouche, but I was wise that you pulled the plug this way when you wanted it to go ahead, and you shoved it back when you wanted it to stop.

When it came to benzine buggies I felt that my education was complete.

I was George Gazazza, the real Rolando, when I pulled up in front of my lady friend's front gate.

My market price was $18,000 a square inch.

In six minutes by the watch Clara Jane was down and in the kerosene caravan.

Clarence hadn't arrived.