"Then," said Jimmy, "I wish I could have given you a whole Pullman instead of just one berth! By gosh! You deserve it. The firm you drove for ought to have seen to that."
"Firms forget, when a man is no longer of use," said Carver with a shake of his head.
"Some of 'em do. Mine isn't that sort. But, you see, my firm is head and shoulders above the others—in some ways. The Sayers Automobile Company isn't one of these big, swollen concerns. Old Tom Sayers looks after his people."
He was in true form again, proud of his firm, boasting its merits, advertising it and ready to defend it quite as valiantly as if he had been with it from its beginnings.
"I've heard of it," admitted Carver, politely. "Suppose it's because I'm so out of the game that I don't know more about it than I do. My fault! How long you been with 'em?"
"Since about five o'clock this afternoon," said Jimmy.
The crippled record breaker took out his watch, consulted it, and slipped it back in his pocket.
"Long time, isn't it?" he commented. "That's nearly three hours. I've broken a few records in my time, but you beat anything I've come across. It took thirteen years for me to learn that one concern I worked for was no good. It took you three hours to learn the one you work for is the best there is."
"But I believe it!" declared Jimmy, with his unquenchable enthusiasm. "Why? Because I believe in Tom Sayers. I believe in his honesty, and his reputation, and—well—because he gave me a chance."
"Know him very well?" his seat mate asked.