"Oh, the sinful waste of this rising generation!" murmured Uncle Ezra, shaking his head, sadly.
"What kind of a car is he going to give you, Dick?" asked Paul.
"He says I can pick it out myself. I'll read you that part of the letter," and Dick quoted from the missive:
"'I have been thinking of something you might like, Dick, as a sort of reward for your good work at school this winter. I know you have studied hard. I had a man come here to look over your runabout, thinking perhaps it could be fixed up, but he says it is hardly worth it. He advised trading it in for a new and up-to-date machine, and I think that best myself.
"'I want you to be satisfied with what I get you, and I think the best way would be to let you pick it out yourself. So if you will look over some catalogues, which you can send for yourself, and let me know the make of car, I will attend to the rest'"
"That's great!" cried Paul.
"A terrible waste!" muttered Mr. Larabee. "Sinful!"
"Good old dad!" exclaimed Dick, as he put the letter in his pocket. "I wonder what sort of a car I ought to take?"
"One that you can cross the country in," advised Paul.
"That's what I'll do—I'll get a big touring car, and take some of you fellows with me. We'll have a great and glorious trip this summer!"
"More waste! You would much better get work somewhere, Dick, and pay part of your expenses here," declared Mr. Larabee.