“Why, I never traveled in a private car in my life!” exclaimed Lord Pelton.
“Don’t be alarmed,” answered Mr. Mackworth. “They’re really not half bad. You’ll get used to it—”
“You don’t understand,” interrupted Lord Pelton, as if frightened. “Of course, it will be a jolly lark. But, my word, Mr. Mackworth, roughing it in your wild west in a private car and scaling ice and snow covered peaks in a heated airship is quite too much.”
But, the automobile arriving just then, Mr. Mackworth only laughed and the older members of the party were whisked off to their hotel. Frank and Phil locked up the aërodrome and walked to Phil’s home where Frank helped his chum sort over his outfit.
“I don’t know what I’ll be allowed to take—especially in a private car,” Phil said significantly, glancing at his mother with a smile.
“A private car?” repeated Mrs. Ewing. “You’re not going in one of those things, are you?”
“Certainly, mother. Why not?”
“If all’s true I’ve heard, those who ride in private cars don’t do anything but drink champagne and carry on.”
“Don’t bother about that, Mrs. Ewing,” laughed Frank. “I’ve heard that Uncle Guy never drinks anything of the kind. I know he won’t let Jake Green drink whisky.”