When I do run
across one I shall be reminded, I am certain, of Mr. Todd's lady.
"So you are still alive?" were her cordial words as we rolled into
the yard on the first afternoon.
"Yes, my dear." His tone was almost apologetic.
"Did he drive it?" she asked Willie.
"I'll say so, ma'am."
She looked me over coldly. When she finished, I had shrunk to the
dimensions of a wheelbarrow. When Todd sized me up in the warehouse
only an hour before, I had felt as imposing as a furniture van.
"Put it in the barn," said Mrs. Todd, "before a bird carries it off."
I began to suspect that a certain little stranger was not unanimously
welcome in that household. For a moment I was reassured, but only
for a moment.
"John Quincy Burton says," she observed, "that a little old used car
like this is sometimes a very good thing to own."
"That is encouraging," said Todd, brightening. In his relief he
explained to Willie that John Quincy Burton drove the largest car in
the neighbourhood and was therefore to be regarded as an authority.
"Yes," Mrs. Todd concluded, "he says he thinks of buying one himself
to carry in his tool-box."
Willie was an excellent teacher, though a severe disciplinarian.
But by way of amends for the rigours of the training, Willie would
take Mr.
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