"All right, all right!" said the first person, and then to Bean, "All right, all right!"
The car was before him, a large, an alarming car—and red! It was as red as the unworn cravat. Good thing it was getting dark. He wouldn't like to go out in the daytime in one as red as that, not at first.
He ran his eyes critically over it, trying to look disappointed.
"Good shape?" he demanded.
"How about it, Joe? She all right?"
Joe perceptibly stopped hammering.
"Garrumph-rumph!" he seemed to say.
"Well?" said the first person, eying Bean as if this explained everything.
"Take a little spin," said Bean.
"Paul!"
Paul issued from the office, a shock-headed, slouching youth in extreme negligée, a half-burned cigarette dangling from his lower lip. He yawned without dislodging the cigarette.
"Gentleman wants to g'wout." Paul vanished.
Nap had already leaped to a seat in the red car. He had learned what those things were for.
Paul reappeared, trim in leathern cap, well-fitting Norfolk jacket and shining puttees.
"Never know he only had on an undershirt," thought Bean, struck by this swiftly devised effect of correct dressing. He sat in the roomy rear seat beside Nap, leaning an elbow negligently on the arm-rest. He watched Paul shrewdly in certain mysterious preparations for starting the
