“And hadn’t we better stop and see Saunders right away, and get a—get the refusal of the automobile?” asked Tom uneasily. “Suppose someone else got ahead of us and bought it?”
“I don’t believe there’s much danger of that,” said Willard; “but maybe we’d better be on the safe side. So we’ll stop in and see the old codger first thing.”
“There isn’t time now, is there?” asked Tom, looking anxious.
Willard looked at his silver watch and shook his head. “No, the bell will ring in four minutes. If we’d thought of it sooner—but I don’t believe anyone will get ahead of us. By the way, don’t you have to have a license to run an automobile?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“I think so. We’ll have to find out about that. How much do you suppose a license will cost?”
Tom shook his head. “I don’t know. Where do you suppose we can find out?”
“I guess dad knows. I’ll ask him this evening. I hope it doesn’t cost very much. A dog license costs three dollars, but I suppose that hasn’t anything to do with an automobile license. How long do you think it will take you to learn to run the thing, Tom?”
“About a week, I guess,” replied Tom vaguely. “Of course, there’s lots to learn about the engine part of it, but I guess you don’t have to know all that at first. There’s the bell. I’ll meet you after school, Will. And—and don’t be late, will you? It would be fierce if we got there and found Saunders had sold the car!”
But that fear proved vain when, five minutes after dismissal, the two boys reached the carriage works, rather anxious and quite breathless. The car was still there, looking, if anything, a trifle more dilapidated than before. Mr. Saunders had to be summoned from somewhere on the floor above, and, while they awaited him, they again looked over the car. It wasn’t a very commodious car. The rear seat was quite wide enough to take three passengers comfortably, but there was precious little leg room for them.