His eyes sparkled as they ran over the graceful lines of the big touring machine. It was finished in a deep, rich red, relieved by touches of darker color. Polished lamps, steering gear and levers, in places, shot back the rays of the early morning sun.
It was something to feel that they were actually in possession of such a magnificent car—theirs to command, theirs to take them where they willed, and theirs to defy distance, time, and railroads.
Mrs. Collins was looking out of a second story window.
An instant later, Victor, from his place on the rear cushion, shouted:
“Good-bye, mother!”
“Have you all those warm wraps and the umbrella I told you to take?” she called.
“Yes, mother!”
“And that bottle of beef tea, and your raincoat?”
“Yes, mother!”
“And will you be sure to use the cough medicine in case you catch cold?”