"Aw, what are yer givin' us!" said Bobby.
The man's voice changed, but his manner was unaltered. "'Tis the truth I'm a-tellin' ye, kids, wid the lady herself back there a-watchin' to see that I carry out her orders. So hop in, quick, and don't keep her a-waitin'."
"Gee!" exclaimed the boy.
Maggie looked at her brother doubtfully. "Dast we, Bobby? Dast we?"
"Dast we!—Huh! Who's afraid? I'll say we dast."
Another second and they were in the car. The chauffeur gravely touched his cap. "An' where will I be drivin' ye, Sir?"
"Huh?"
"Where is it ye would like for to go?"
The two children looked at each other questioningly. Then a grin of wild delight spread itself over the countenance of the boy and he fairly exploded with triumphant glee, "Gee! Mag, now's our chance." To the man he said, eagerly, "Just you take us all 'round the Flats, mister, so's folks can see. An'—an', mind yer, toot that old horn good an' loud, so as everybody'll know we're a-comin'." As the automobile moved away he beamed with proud satisfaction. "Some swells we are—heh? Skinny an' Chuck an' the gang'll be plumb crazy when they see us. Some class, I'll tell the world."
"Well, why not?" demanded the cigar-stand philosopher, when Tom described that triumphant drive of Sam Whaley's children through the Flats. "Them kids was only doin' what we're all a-tryin' to do in one way or another."