"But isn't that his great charm?" Miss Summers seemed already delighted over something.
"Charm?" David looked doubtful. "I hadn't thought of him as—"
But he did not finish. Quick staccato footsteps were heard. Then a strange vision burst upon them—Jonathan Radbourne accoutered for motoring, in visored cap and duster, with a huge pair of shell-rimmed goggles that sat grotesquely athwart his beaming countenance. On one arm he carried a veil and another coat.
"Ready?" And to their astonished gaze he explained, "First we're going for a little run—if it is agreeable to you?"
They assured him, in italics, that it was.
"Then let us hurry." He handed the coat and veil to Miss Summers. "I brought these along for you. They are my mother's. I got them for her but she never would go out in a machine. She thinks it would be tempting Providence. I'm sorry," this to David, "I had nothing to fit you. Can you do without?"
David put him at ease on that point, and Miss Summers retired.
In a few minutes, fewer than you might suppose, she returned. Radbourne clapped his hands in delight.
"Look, David!"
David obeyed.