“Yes, sir,” replied Willard, preparing to get up from the rickety wooden chair that had been assigned to him. But Mr. Connors displayed no evidence that he considered the interview at an end. Instead,
“Well, and how’s it going?” he asked. “Doing pretty well, are you?”
“The business, you mean?” asked Willard. “Yes, sir, we’re doing very well indeed.”
“That’s good. And now it’s getting along toward school time again, eh? Too bad you’ve got to give it up, I say!”
“We—we’re not going to give it up!” exclaimed Tom. “We’re going to keep right on with it!”
“Are you now? That’s fine, ain’t it? But what’ll you be doing with that automobile when the snow’s a foot or so deep on the streets?”
“We’ll put chains on the wheels and get along all right,” answered Tom triumphantly.
“Is it so? They’re great things, automobiles, ain’t they? But I heard you were going back to school and your friend here was going to college. I forget who told me that. I think, maybe though, it was my son George.”
“We are, sir,” responded Willard, “but we’re going to have someone else run the car for us. It’s too good a business to give up.”