“I can run the blamed things,” he remarked, “and I know how to keep them loaded with oil and water and gasoline—”
“Oh, don’t worry about running it,” exclaimed the other. “Why, she won’t let even me run the thing, so I’ve never learned. As for the chauffeurs, Mary Louise despises them.”
“So do I,” agreed Danny. “Your granddaughter, sir, must be a very sensible girl.”
That won Gran’pa Jim’s heart, but just then Mary Louise herself came tripping through the archway that led from the kitchen to the back porch and the garden. She was most alluringly attired, as if for a spin on a sunlit winter’s morning, and paused abruptly as if surprised.
“Oh, this is the new man, I suppose,” said she, a touch of haughtiness in her voice. “Your name is Dexter, I believe.”
Danny smiled, slyly.
“What makes you believe that?” he inquired, doffing his little military cap.
“I have heard Will White call you Dexter at the grocery store,” she responded promptly.
“Still, I’m not ‘your new man,’” he said, explaining his presence. “At the invitation of Mr. Hathaway I am merely examining his charming grounds.”
“Yes. What do you think, Mary Louise, this hang-around ne’er-do-well insists on seeing the place before he decides whether he’ll work here!”