He soon adjusted the broken bolt of the mud guard, and announced that it was now as good as new.
"But why won't you go in the Whirlwind?" demanded the girl. "I am only out on a little pleasure spin, and I would be very glad indeed to take you to New City. Besides, I'd like to race with the train," she went on with sparkling eyes. "I know I could beat it."
Paul looked interested.
"I guess you could," he said. "It would be a good chance, anyhow."
"Come on, then! Don't waste a moment. Let's try it."
Paul called his assistant, a young lad, and gave him instructions about some cars, and what to do if certain customers came in. It was not a busy part of the day, and he could leave without causing any complications. Then he slipped into his long, linen coat and stepped into Cora's car.
"I'm afraid this is an imposition," he declared, taking the steering wheel, a sort of unconscious habit he had. Then he bethought himself. "Oh, but I suppose you'll drive," he added quickly, shifting over, rather abashed at having taken his place in the driver's seat without being asked. "You see, I'm so accustomed to being here."
"I believe I will drive," answered Cora. "I have great faith in the obedience of my machine. It knows my hand."
"I shouldn't wonder," agreed the young, man. "I do believe that motor-cars can almost be made to think—under the guidance of very gentle but sure hands."
Paul looked very handsome, Cora thought. He was the type she always admired—a youth with a bronze complexion—a straight, athletic figure, almost classic, Cora decided. He cranked up for her, re-entered the car, and they rolled from the garage. Once out on the country road Cora threw in the high gear and fed the gasolene with a judicious hand, controlling the spark admirably.