"Look here, I've been thinking. There ought to be a lot of cars like this in the county."
To Randy the enthusiasms of the genial gentleman were a constant source of amazement. He was always wanting the world to be glad about something. Randy felt that at this moment any assumption of gladness would be a hollow mockery.
"Any man," said the genial gentleman, rubbing a cloth over the enamel of the little car, "any man who would start selling this machine down here would make a fortune."
Randy pricked up his ears.
"How could he make a fortune?"
"Selling cars. Why, the babies cry for them——" he chuckled and rubbed harder.
"How much could he make?" Randy found himself saying.
The genial gentleman named a sum, "Easy."
Randy got up from the wheelbarrow and came over. "Is she really as good as that?"
"Is she really? Oh, say——" the genial gentleman for the next ten minutes dealt in superlatives.