Once in the street Rodgers moved with dragging footsteps toward his car, his thought elsewhere. Suddenly he became conscious that, as deliberately as he walked, some one just ahead of him was moving even more slowly. Stepping to one side, he moved forward at a more rapid gait and was about to pass the limping figure when a hand touched his arm and looking down he found old Oscar by his side.
“I’se sorry, Sah, I couldn’t get out o’ your way,” he said apologetically. “This hyar rheumatics am mighty bad dis mawnin’, Mister Rodgers.”
“That is too bad, Oscar.” Rodgers, observing the old man’s weary air, spoke with impulsive sympathy. “You are pretty far from home.”
“Yessir. I started to do an errand fo’ Mandy, and then I stopped to see a parade, an’ I jes’ naturally has ter follow a band, an’ hyar I be!” The old darky heaved a heavy sigh. “I ’spects a street cyar’ll be along bimeby an’ carry me over to Georgetown.”
“Get in my car and I will take you to ‘Rose Hill.’” At Rodgers’ suggestion a pleased smile lighted Oscar’s face and he showed his big white teeth to their fullest extent.
“’Deed, Sah, that’s mighty nice ob you’,” he exclaimed, moving with greater speed to the curb. “I kin get in, thank yo’ kindly.”
It took Oscar a few minutes to get comfortably settled in the roadster, and it was with a sigh of genuine satisfaction that he leaned back and watched Rodgers start his engine. His smile, which had never quite departed since Rogers first suggested taking him home, broadened expansively as they slipped through traffic and swung into a quieter side street.
“Yo’ certainly kin drive, Mister Rodgers,” he said, breaking the long silence. “I guess yo’ can beat Major Wallace handlin’ a cyar.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Oscar,” Rodgers laughed. “Major Wallace has a reputation as a speedster.”
“Yessir,” but Oscar looked a trifle bewildered, long words were not his strong point. “Major Wallace done taught Miss Kitty ter drive.”