..."
Thus in imagination he would drive; get out, crank, get in again,
and roll away in fancy, earnestly practising by the hour in the dark
and silent barn.
"I'm getting it," he would declare. "I really believe I'm getting it!"
And he got it. In his driving examination he stalled only once,
stopping dead across a trolley track in deference to a push-cart.
But he was out and in and off again in ten seconds, upbraiding me
like an old-timer.
Said the inspector, stepping out at last and surely offering a
prayer of thanks to his patron saint: "You're pretty reckless yet on
corners, my friend." But he scribbled his O.K.
The written examination in the City Hall Mr. Todd passed with high
honours. Willie, who was with us on the fateful morning, exclaimed
in admiration: "One hundred! Well, Mr. Todd, you're alive, after
all--from the neck up, at least."
In gratitude for the compliment, the glowing graduate pressed a
bonus of two dollars into the panegyrist's palm. "Willie," he exulted,
"did you hear the inspector call me reckless?"
I can scarcely think of the Todd of the succeeding weeks as the same
Todd who bought me. He changed even in looks. He would always be a
second, of course, but his frame had rigidity now, his lamps sparkled,
he gripped the wheel with purposeful hands and trampled the pedals
in the way an engine likes.
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