The salesman laid his hand upon me and declared soberly: "You can't
possibly go wrong on this one, Mr. Todd." To a red-haired boy he
called, "Willie, drive Mr. Todd out for a lesson."
We ran to the park and stopped beside a lawn. "Take the wheel," said
Willie.
Mr. Todd demurred. "Let me watch you awhile," he pleaded. "You see,
I'm new at this sort of thing. In mechanical matters I am helpless.
I might run somebody down or crash into a tree. I--I don't feel
quite up to it to-day, so just let me ride around with you and get
used to the--the motion, as it were."
"All you need is nerve," Willie replied. "The quickest way for you
to get nerve is to grab hold here and, as it were, drive."
"Driving, they say, _does_ give a man self-confidence," our
passenger observed tremulously. "Quite recently I saw an
illustration of it. I saw an automobilist slap his wife's face while
traveling thirty miles an hour."
"They will get careless," said Willie.
Mr. Todd clasped the wheel with quivering hands and braced himself
for the ordeal.
"Set her in low till her speed's up," Willie directed. "Then wiggle
her into high."
It was too mechanical for Mr. Todd. Willie translated with scornful
particularity.
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