"Got us—hell!" snarled the youth. "Bud's askin' for it, an' some day he's goin' t' get it—good!"
Toward afternoon, Ravenslee was trundling light-heartedly eastward, his barrow emptied to the last peanut. Having reached Fifth Avenue, he paused to mop his perspiring brow when a long, low automobile, powerfully engined, that was creeping along behind, pulled up with a sudden jerk, and its driver, whose immense shoulders were clad in a very smart livery, pushed up the peak of his smart cap to run his fingers through his close-cropped hair, while his mild blue eyes grew very wide and round.
"Crikey!" said he at last. "Is that you, sir, or ain't it?"
"How much?" demanded Ravenslee gruffly.
"Crumbs!" said the chauffeur. "Sir, if you—ain't you, all I say is—I ain't me!"
"Aw—what's bitin' ye, bo?" growled Ravenslee.
"Well, if this ain't the rummest go, I'm a perisher!"
"Say, now, crank up d' machine an' beat it while d' goin' 's good. How's that, Joe?"
"Lord, Mr. Ravenslee—so you are my guv'nor, and blow me tight—shoving a barrer! I knowed it was you, sir; leastways I knowed your legs an' the set o' them shoulders, but—with a barrer! Excuse me, sir, but the idea o' you pushing a perishing peanut barrer so gay an' 'appy-'earted—well, all I can say is love-a-duck!"
"Well now, cut along, Joe, and get ready. I mean to put in some real hard work with you this afternoon."