Papa swore he had never liked autos, had never approved of them, and had only bought one under an insane compulsion. Said he had known only one human being who could make a car go, and that was Albert; and rubbed in horse, horse, horse, and gave a list of the things he'd eat, from his hat to a pair of gum boots, if he'd ever allow himself to be caught out again without Albert.
We were in these depths of misery and depression when we heard the sound of a car coming along behind us. Papa jumped out and swung the lantern in the middle of the road, so as to stop it. There was a glare of lamps, a whir of gears, and then a man's voice asking through the dark, "What's the matter?" As far as we could judge, he seemed most friendly and accommodating, though at a ten yards' distance, and with his engine running idle it was impossible to follow the conversation. But a moment after, we saw papa leading him up to us, and lo and behold, it was Mr. Marsden! Yes, in evening dress,
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