"Good gracious!" said his mother, faintly. "I forgot the car!"
"What—have you one waiting? Well, it's a nice day for it!" said her husband placidly. He was scribbling answers. "Here you are, old chap, and here's the money. Sure you can manage?"
"Of course he can," said Mrs. Lester. "Hasn't he been looking after me ever since you went away?"
"I'll take up my job again," he said, as the door closed behind Dick.
The chauffeur welcomed the boy with some relief.
"Thought you were never comin'," he remarked. "Well, did 'e get here all right?"
"Rather!" Dick answered.
"So I should think, by your face," quoth the chauffeur. "Beamin's no name for it. Well, where to now?"
"Telegraph office," said Dick, getting in beside him. They whirred up through the busy streets, while the chauffeur discoursed learnedly on the ways of motors, in terms which were Greek to Dick though he tried to conceal the fact. He tried once to divert the conversation to horses, but the chauffeur said loftily, "Oh, 'orses is out of date, unless it's on a racecourse!"—which made Dick gasp with disgust.
"I'd sooner have my Tinker than all your jolly old cars!" said he. To which the chauffeur responded, "Oh, you'll grow out of that!" in a manner so intensely superior that Dick writhed beneath it. He was glad when they reached the telegraph office, and he could dash in and write out his telegrams. There were dozens of other people on the same errand, most of them from the mail steamer. Dick had to wait his turn, and, as he was a slow writer, it was some time before he could finish; after which a very fat lady blocked him at the counter until he was almost dancing with impatience. He got through at last, and hurried the chauffeur back to the wharf.