The lady looked serious for a minute, took another sniff from her bottle, and then began: "Look here, boy, if you'll drive this car for me down to Clayton Street, I'll give you a crisp, new one-dollar bill, and a great many thanks besides. A friend of mine, whom I haven't seen since she was a little girl, is going to be married at three o'clock, and I've always promised I'd come to her wedding, even if I were three thousand miles away, and here I am, less than three, and likely to miss it after all!"
"I should think she'd wait till you come, ma'am," Dick ventured to suggest, consolingly.
"Oh, bless you," continued the old lady, "she thinks I'm in California. She sent the invitation to me out there, and it arrived just as I was unexpectedly called back to New York, so I determined not to let them know a word about it, but just walk in on them at the wedding. And now, if you'll only drive me down to Clayton Street, I think I can do it yet. I'm not afraid."
That last sentence nearly spoiled the effect of all the others, for Dick didn't like to have anybody think he couldn't drive a car-horse if he wanted to; but he graciously overlooked the blunder, promised to do the driving if his passenger would be responsible to the company, and then stepped out upon the front platform, feeling as if he had been asked to ascend the throne of an empire.
As for the old lady, she settled herself comfortably back in a corner, and began to button her white kid gloves.
Much impressed by this proof of the confidence reposed in his horsemanship, Dick untied the lines, gave the brake a twirl, chirped to the lazy nag, and, presto! the bell on the latter's neck commenced to jingle as loudly as when the regular official held the ribbons.
What fun it was, to be sure! No steering out of ruts and around puddles, the sole duties of the post being to slap the reins on the horse's back now and then, and keep a hand on that fascinating brake. Dick's only regret was that he had lost the opportunity of using the turn-table, but having found the car headed in the right direction, there was no help for it.
The street, as has been said, was a quiet one, especially so at that time of day, and thus no one saw and wondered at the sight of Dick Winworth, only son of the prominent lawyer, driving a "bobtail" car. As for Dick himself, he had never imagined so much enjoyment could be had by such simple means. The tinkle of the bell and the grating of the wheels on the track were as music in his ears, while the task of keeping the vehicle from running on to the horse's heels at down grades furnished most enchanting occupation for hand and eye.
On a sudden the latter chanced to light on the green tin box fastened to the dash-board, and he recollected that his passenger had not yet paid her fare. So, with a very broad smile, he rang the "reminder" bell, which caused the old lady to look up and smile too, as she handed him a dime. Dick having shut the door that he might have the fun of giving change through the "flap."
It was while he was thus engaged that he drove past a switch without noticing it, and at the next corner a young lady held up her finger as a sign for him to stop.