They sped softly across town, only the low buzz of the motor and the occasional jangle of the bell penetrating to the interior of the carriage. Overhead a light set behind ground glass cast a soft glow over the rich upholstery. Dan looked and marveled. At his feet an electric heater gave warmth, in front of him a little silver clock ticked away the minutes. The seat, upholstered in dark blue leather, was as comfortable as a bed, and Gerald was making the most of it. But Dan was too excited to loll back in his corner. Instead, he sat on the edge of the cushion and peered interestedly out of the window. The brougham slowed down and turned into Fifth Avenue, then buzzed its way uptown past a steady stream of southward bound vehicles, automobiles, hansoms, broughams, taxicabs, electrics, with now and then a smart delivery wagon. Dan turned in bewilderment.
“Where’s every one going?” he asked.
“Theater, I suppose,” answered Gerald listlessly. “It’s most eight o’clock.”
“Oh,” said Dan. He had never seen so many carriages before in his life, nor so many lights, nor so many persons. They were held up for a moment at an intersecting street, and he watched admiringly the majestic traffic policeman, and wondered where every one could be going! Then they went on again and the lights along the sidewalks grew fewer. Shops gave way to residences, and soon, through the window on Gerald’s side, he saw the Park. He heaved a sigh.
“Gee, this is a big old place, Gerald,” he said hopelessly.
“I hate it,” answered Gerald, arousing from his drowsiness. “I have lots more fun at Sound View than I do in New York. I wish father would live at Sound View all the year. He says he’s going to some day. Here we are, Dan.”
The brougham rolled slowly up to the curb and stopped with a final peal of its bell. The door of a white stone residence opened and a man in livery came out and seized the bags and coats. Dan followed Gerald into the house, stepped dazedly into a tiny room which turned out to be an elevator, stepped out again and discovered Mr. Pennimore awaiting them at the door of a big library, evening paper in hand. After that events followed each other so quickly that it was all rather hazy to Dan. There was a moment’s chat in front of a glowing fire, another excursion in the elevator, a hurried preparation for dinner, followed by a survey of Gerald’s bedroom and sitting room which adjoined the apartment assigned to Dan, a descent to the first floor, and—well, then Dan found himself eating again just as though he hadn’t already had one hearty dinner that evening!
“What’s the matter, Gerald?” asked Mr. Pennimore presently, interrupting himself anxiously. “Has coming home spoiled your appetite?”
“No, sir, but we had our dinner on the train.”
“On the train! Well, well, that’s unfortunate! Couldn’t wait, eh? But do the best you can, boys. When I was your age I could always eat. Parker, hand the vegetables to Mr. Vinton.”