"But where can that driver be?" mused Dick, as he gazed admiringly up, down, and across the neatly painted vehicle, for the cars were all new and of the latest patent. "However, I seem to be the only passenger; but no, I guess here's another," as his attention was attracted toward a very stout old lady, all decked out in holiday attire, with artificial flowers in her bonnet, fresh roses in her belt, and a huge bouquet in her hand, who came panting across from the Park gate.
"Hi! hi! wait a minute!" she cried, frantically waving her parasol, and evidently under the impression that the car had already started off at a gallop.
Dick moved away from the step to allow her plenty of room to get in, when she exclaimed, "Oh, boy, can you tell me how long it will be before this car leaves?"
"No, ma'am," he replied, much gratified because she had not called him "little boy," for he had just entered his teens.
"Oh deary me, I'm in such a hurry! I think I'll speak to the driver. But I don't see any—why, where is he?" and the old lady bustled about from one side of the car to the other so impatiently that it danced upon its springs again.
Then she sat down for a minute, wiped her face with a perfumed handkerchief, took a sniff from her smelling-bottle, and began fanning herself with a fan which Dick thought she'd never finish opening out.
"I know I shall be too late, after all my promises, too!" and now there was more of regret than impatience in the old lady's tones.
Meantime Dick had gone on an exploring expedition, and presently came running back with the news that the driver had "a fit or something," and was lying on the kitchen floor of a farm-house around the corner.
"How did he get there?" asked the old lady, in her short way.
"He must have felt it coming on and started for the house, for they found him just outside the gate," replied Dick. "I didn't see him, but a boy who was running for the doctor told me about it."