"Happened to drop in where she was--brought her home--aunt
following in that hearse with its five-foot cushions she always rides
in," Hunt explained. And then: "Well, I suppose you've got to give me
the once-over. Hurry up, and get it done with."
Larry obeyed. Hunt's wild hair had been smartly barbered, he had on a
swagger dust-coat, and beneath it flannels of the smartest cut.
Further, he bore himself as if smart clothes and smart cars had always
been items of his equipment.
"Well, young fellow, spill it," he commanded. "What do I look like?"
"Like Solomon in all his glory. No, more like the he-dressmaker of the
Queen of Sheba."
"I'm going to run you up every telephone post we come to for that
insult! Hop in, son, and we'll take a little voyage around the earth
in eighty seconds."
Larry got in. Once out of the drive the car leaped away as though
intent upon keeping to Hunt's time-table. But after a mile or two Hunt
quieted the roaring monster to a conversational pace.
"Get one of the invitations to my show?" he asked.
"Yes. Several days ago. That dealer certainly got it up in great
shape."
"You must have hypnotized Graham. That old paint pirate is giving the
engine all the gas she'll stand--and believe me, he's sure getting up
a lot of speed.
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