Then he brought himself back from his mental plunge into the future.
"Well, well, Bruce," he said, "we need not discuss the merits and demerits of driving motor-cars, need we? What did you wish to see me about?"
"I came to ask if I might get off morning school tomorrow, sir. Those voters who got to the poll just in time and settled the election—I brought them down in the car. And the policeman—he's a Radical, and voted for Pedder—Mr Pedder—has sworn—says I was exceeding the speed-limit."
The headmaster pressed a hand to his forehead, and his mind swam into the future.
"Well, Bruce?" he said at length, in the voice of one whom nothing can surprise now.
"He says I was going twenty-eight miles an hour. And if I can get to the Court tomorrow morning I can prove that I wasn't. I brought them to the poll in the little runabout."
"And the—er—little runabout," said the headmaster, "does not travel at twenty-eight miles an hour?"
"No, sir. It can't go more than twenty at the outside."
"Very well, Bruce, you need not come to school tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, sir."