“Hiring it out?” repeated Willard. “How do you mean, Jimmy?”
“Why, taking folks out for rides. Advertise in the paper or put a sign in the windows down-town saying you’ll rent the car for so much an hour. I wouldn’t wonder if you’d catch some folks that way.”
“We might do it evenings,” agreed Tom doubtfully, “but I don’t believe father would want me to do it on Sundays.”
“That so? Well, stick to week-days, then. I just suggested it. I don’t know how it would work out. You might try it, though.”
“Much obliged,” said Tom. “We—we’ll think it over. How much ought we to charge by the hour, Jimmy?”
“Oh, I don’t know. In the cities they get five dollars, or they used to. You could charge two dollars, maybe, for a carful. That would leave you about a dollar and seventy-five cents, allowing for gasoline and wear on the car.”
“I think that’s a bully idea,” said Willard. “Tell you what, Tom; I’ll just have to learn to run the thing. First thing we know we’ll be so busy you won’t be able to do it all. Besides, supposing you got sick or something! Then where’d we be?”
“I don’t see why you don’t learn to run it,” agreed Jimmy. “I guess Tom could teach you all right. If he can’t I’ll do it. And any time you want someone to run The Ark for you, Tom, you let me know. I dare say I could get off for a day or so and do it.”
“Really? I’ll remember that,” said Tom gratefully. “It might be that something would happen some time. They’re going to start the game. The mill team has the field. Is that your friend there, Jimmy? The big, tall fellow with red hair.”
“Yes, that’s Doyle. You watch him, fellows. He’s a wonder. Used to pitch for Waterbury, Doyle did. Of course, he wasn’t a first-string man, but he was pretty good. I saw him pitch five innings once against New Haven and there wasn’t a hit made off him. If he hadn’t passed four men there wouldn’t have been a score!”