“Yes, it works well, Tom—faster than ever. And I hope things will take a turn for the better to-morrow.”
“So do I. See you later,” and Tom was off to keep his appointment with Mary Nestor.
Tom and Mary were riding along a quiet country road back of a little village when Mary observed just ahead of them an old man driving a horse hitched to a light carriage.
“Speaking of millionaires, Tom,” she said, “there goes one.”
“Where?” he asked.
“There! Jason Jacks. He has several millions, it’s said, but he holds on to them. Father knows him.”
“Lucky boy!” exclaimed Tom. “I wish I were you, J. J.!”
“Well, I don’t!” came promptly from Mary. “If you were Jason Jacks, I wouldn’t be out riding with you, Tom Swift!”
“Why not?” he demanded quizzically.
“Because he’s old, he hasn’t any teeth——”